Kidney Transplant 2

I was oblivious of everything that transpired as the doctors worked on me during the operation. I finally woke up in the ICU unit. Lucy was there, and her sister Esther. I was gagging as I felt I was in a cage--or worse yet, in an iron mask. It was not a good feeling at all. At least I could breathe. Then I heard a voice telling me to relax, which helped the situation as I relaxed. I had a gastric tube down my throat, and I also had a breathing tube still placed. I couldn't talk.

They tied my hands, which upset Lucy. It was for my own safety, and the safety of the monitors around me. Lucy and Esther soon left. I couldn't communicate but I gradually woke up more. I became concerned about the breathing tube because I was afraid of choking. I became more concerned, especially when I felt that it was moving and could get in the way of being comfortable.

I motioned to the nurse to take it out. She insisted that I relax. As time went on I became more adamant about removing the tube and I became more insistent. She said that the monitors said everything was OK. But I was not OK. I was not to be quieted so she tied my hands, turned out the lights and walked away.

But I was not finished yet. I had a finger pulse oximeter on my finger to keep track of my oxygen level and I shamelessly tapped on the frame of my gurney to get attention. She came back and scolded me for it, but I kept insisting that I needed attention and I was not just a fussy patient. In the struggle that she precipitated, she got unintentionally scratched. She walked away and shouted, "He scratched me, he scratched me!"

Finally...someone with common sense came along to see what the fuss was all about. He reiterated the concern my caretaker had but I needed to bring them to the attention I needed. I motioned for a pencil and paper. I wrote down my concerns and as I wrote he asked questions. I told him that I felt something was not right and I needed more stability in the setup I had to deal with. He said that he would have to retape it. I wrote, "Retape it then!" He proceeded to retape whatever was needed. It turned out to be more than I expected, but when he finished, I felt it was more stable.

I motioned for the pencil and paper again. I wrote, "I am not a mean person. I did not scratch her on purpose. I was concerned about what was happening and needed it to be corrected."

As I wrote he realized that I was serious about my situation. He took the papers and walked back to the group of people and one by one they came and apologized, including my nurse. A half hour later they removed the breathing tube and I could talk again.

Months later I told the story to a nurse and she was horrified, "You shouldn't have remembered that!" she exclaimed. I was not medicated enough.

I was finally sent to my room from the ICU and then began the recovery. And I had a new setup to deal with; the urinary diversion. It was working fine but I had to get used to it.

Kidney transplant 1

January 16 of this year I had a kidney transplant. Sometime in February it failed, for reasons that will be explained. During the next days I'll write about some of the things that happened during the few months I was in the hospitals (plural). I was at OSU Medical Center in Columbus, Ohio and that was where I stayed for a few weeks.

I was all set for the day, Friday. I had been checked out for eligibility for a transplant. I had found a donor, or a donor found me. I had written a Christmas letter and explained my need for a kidney and my wife's cousin Esther finally answered, took the required tests, and we were found compatible. So far so good.

Admittedly, I had a few reservations about going through with the process, but since I had a donor, and everything was a go, I figured it all would work out. So early in the morning of the 16th, I was prepped and ready for the big day. I had been on dialysis since May 2004 and this would finally end it.

Lucy and I talked with the surgeon and he explained the details of the operation. I asked if he could keep the same setup that I had since the age of three. He explained that I would be at risk of infection since I would be taking immunosupressant medication to keep the kidney from being rejected.

I hesitate to explain the details of my own medical history but there are readers who would understand. At the age of three my bladder was taken away and the ureters were attached to the sigmoid colon. It was something I was used to after all these years. When the doctor nixed the idea of keeping the same setup I told him to do what he felt was best. It meant creating a urinary diversion for the new kidney.

My wife Lucy was planning to be with me in the early morning of the surgery. I was due to go to the operating room sometime around 6:30 or 7 a.m. As the hour approached, I grew apprehensive about it and wished my wife were here to give me support. I found out later that she was on her way but not quick enough to be with me at the crucial time. I was going for a major overhaul and I realized that I would probably go there alone, something I was rather used to because I usually was alone quite often in my numerous hospital stays. But I grew apprehensive enough to question whether I should go through with it at all. I developed feelings of depression at the prospect, but I reasoned that the donor was gracious enough to come forward, why disappoint her. That logic may be weak under the circumstances but I certainly had ambivalent feelings which almost unnerved me.

I had my cellphone with me and I suddenly noticed it had a recent voicemail. I checked it out. It was Elisabeth, a friend of ours, saying that there was a song which was in her mind all day and she even played it on the piano and thought of me. The song--No Never Alone. I knew the song and as I was taken to the Operating Room I sang it in my mind all the way to the table.

I was transferred over and the medical staff prepared me. I lay on the table and they stretched out my arms onto two narrow boards and tied them fast. They explained that they needed to fasten them because they could fall when I lost consciousness. My initial thoughts were "Oh no, I'm being crucified!" But I also kept thinking, No Never Alone, which was a comforting thought. I breathed a fervent prayer for further reassurance as a technician injected medicine into the IV that had been placed in my arm. I soon blissfully relaxed into oblivion.

My Grandfather

I never met my grandfather, John M. Hackman, my Dad's father. In fact, my Dad was 7 years old when his Dad passed away from typhoid fever in 1917. But an interesting story came about in his relatively short life. There was a contract to dig a well on the property. A couple of well-diggers who were brothers from Hatfield, PA or thereabouts were contracted to dig the well. It took a long time, with intermittent frustrations but finally they announced that they found water. However, some neighbors reported that they saw the well-diggers carrying water in the middle of the night and pouring it down the well.

When it came time to pay for the work, John apparently mentioned it and an argument ensued. Finally, John said he would go into the house to get the money. He went into the house and locked the door. He went to the opposite side of the house and crawled out a window, and reported it to the police.

Meanwhile, one of the contractors waited and waited, and then realized that something was afoot. He went up to the door and pulled out a knife saying, "This knife has seen blood before!" Grammy was frightened and exclaimed, in Pennsylvania German, "Next he'll kill us all!"

What was not realized at the time was that three-year-old John Jr. was outside on the porch with the man but he was not harmed.

But a neighbor saw John Sr. leave the house by way of the window, and later found out he had gone to the police. Members of the Mennonite Church do not usually go to the police, and when it was known in the community, he had to make confession in church.

John M. Hackman was born on August 10, 1879 and died on November 14, 1917. The Gospel Herald published his obituary:

GOSPEL HERALD - February 14, 1918 - Pages 846, 847 HACKMAN. - John M. Hackman, a faithful brother in the Franconia, Pa. congregation, passed away peacefully Nov. 14, 1917, after five weeks illness of typhoid fever. He endured his portion of suffering very patiently, offering many short prayers. He leaves a sorrowing widow and five children. This happy Christian family and their beautiful home is broken up. His voice is stilled, his smiles are past, his presence remains to be remembered as a dear loving husband and a kind father. O what a change in so short a time, but we know it was the Lord's will. Age, 38y. 3m. 4d. "Beloved husband, Father of my five He left us all too soon. He longed to stay, and longed to go, But God claimed him His own. We watched him breathing through the night, His breathing soft and low, As in his breast the tide of life Kept heaving to and fro."

His children were: Henry, Warren, John (my Dad), Willis (passed away in 1918 at the age of six), and Lydia. Their mother, who was born July 21, 1880, never married again and died in June 1959.

Henry S. Hackman - December 29, 1905 - December 3, 1992. I usually had quite a few conversations with Uncle Henry and he told me that he remembers his grandfather, John O. Hackman (Feb. 21, 1849-May 30, 1912). The scene he remembers was a snowy day and he was driving into the lane with horse and wagon with a rather dour look on his face. Henry was around six or seven years old. Uncle Henry had a lot of of memories about people and places and I regret not writing it all down. He was a goldmine of local and family history.

Warren S. Hackman - July 21, 1908 - September 2, 1995. Warren's first wife was Mary Godshall who was my mother's sister. Her children are my double cousins.

John S. Hackman - July 25, 1910 - June 30, 1999.

Willis S. Hackman - October 10, 1912 - October 18, 1918. Lydia told me that Willis was a sickly child. He frequently suffered from boils which his mother treated by lancing. He was glad to finally attend school in the first grade. He attended for one day, and then became too ill to continue, and died before being able to go back to school.

Lydia S. Hackman Landis - March 10, 1916 - October 25, 2005.

Christmas at school

These little angels put on a show for the local Mifflin School parents, relatives, and friends in the Mansfield area. Over 100 people showed up. This is the first Christmas program featuring the kindergarten students. Lucy and Wes attended because Nathan (third from right, top row) was in the program. His brother Nolan also came with us.

Visit from Elisabeth

Every time Nolan sees this video, he insists that she is his girlfriend. Elisabeth visited with us recently in October 2008. Nolan is three years old.

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day, November 27, was a day to give thanks. It was a beautiful sunny day.

Lucy and I were invited by her niece Miriam and husband Irvin to their house for a nice feast of turkey and all the trimmings. Lucy brought her homemade pecan pie and I brought my homemade cranberry sauce. The cranberry recipe consisted of two packs of cranberries, one peeled orange, and 1-1/2 cups of sugar. I ground up the cranberries, orange juice and pulp. Since the recipe was no longer on the package I didn't remember the exact amount of ingredients so I mixed in about 3/4 cup of sugar and put it in two pint jars. Later, while I was watching the news my mind went idly to what I did earlier and realized that I didn't put enough sugar in it. I recalled the two jars, dumped the cranberry sauce into a bowl and added another 3/4 cup of sugar. Whew! Saved by a little dose of inspiration.

The next time I make cranberry sauce, I'll try brown sugar instead. There are other recipes where you cook the cranberries. I haven't had cooked cranberry sauce for years. I just grind up the raw cranberries, put in an orange and sugar, put it in jars and refrigerate.

The following day would have been Iva Hackman's birthday (my Mom). She would have been 87 years old. She passed away in 2006. God bless you Mom.

Fix up time

We bought our house in 2003 and have lived in it ever since. As houses go, it was not the fanciest house but it was liveable. Jason, a co-owner, renovated the inside of his side of the house, and gradually made a nice cozy living space out of it. He also made a couple rooms on our side in the basement. Things were gradually working out.

Then there were signs of the roof beginning to leak. The house was only 20 years old, but how long do roofs last?Finances were short to satisfy another expense so we waited, and wondered. Insurance would not pay for patches. If there was a single event that created the problem, they would get involved.

But the answer came on September 14, 2008. Hurricane Ike made its presence strongly felt like the big bad wolf that it was. It huffed and puffed and made mincemeat of the roof. I took a couple pictures while the wind was blowing. Nothing else was touched. I called insurance the next day.

The insurance agent told me they do not go out to make estimates. We would have to get our own. I left it in Jason's capable hands and he found some estimates and I faxed them. The weather after that Sunday storm was admirable but how long will it last until rains come? Jason put plastic that was available over part of the roof.

A few days later a couple of insurance adjusters came to check it out. They saw the plastic on the roof but I told them I had taken pictures so I went down to my office and made hard copies of a couple pictures and they were good enough to be used to evidence.

The estimates were to cover the damage over half the whole building. When the insurance adjuster climbed onto the roof, he said we should have the whole roof done, down to the boards. He would add enough to cover the cost, based on the estimate submitted, and see if insurance would agree.

The damaged part of the whole building was on the two-story side. Lucy and I live in the one-story side. There was evidence of a leak beginning but we were relatively dry on our side of the house. Still, the adjuster commented that there were a couple of different types of shingles and it would be better if the whole roof was done at the same time. He would try to rush the estimate but it could take up to 10 days. 10 days! It could rain by then. There were still parts of the roof at the mercy of the elements. In fact, Lucy commented that if we got rain from the south, the plastic wouldn't be very effective.

I went to a men's fellowship seminar at Berean Baptist one evening. It was dark when I returned. Soon the rain started. Uh-oh! The roof! I tried to convince myself that everything was OK. God is in His heaven and all is right with the world. But the feeling of despair was beginning to manifest and I didn't sleep well all night. I had a mind to let Jason know but I mentally argued the point that I'm sure he heard the rain more than I did, and if he's not worried, why should I be?

The next morning I woke up, after a fitful short night's sleep. I commented to Lucy that it rained but what is happening to the roof? Her response, although irritated, was soothing to my ears. "Oh, Jason put on plastic last night."

A couple of days later the check came, for the full amount suggested by the insurance adjuster. I put it in the bank and told Jason to get the roofers working, we're in business. He would have liked to help out but he had a job himself and he got a couple of good roofers to work for several days. It was a blessing all around.

Lucy, being former Amish, suggested that it would be nice to have a frolic to get the roof done. A frolic in the Amish culture is a gathering of a group of people to work on the project at hand. As it was, however, a couple of ex-Amish roofers worked on the roof for a few days, tearing off the shingles and matting, and replacing it all. We watched their progress and I took pictures.

Why do we worry sometimes? Maybe it's because we don't exercise our faith enough. We do what we can but when we believe in something a little beyond the practical, often things happen that go beyond what we may expect. This was an answer to our desires and we thank God for it all.

Of course, we weren't the only ones to have damage. Trees went down at many places, buildings were damaged by falling trees, as well as cars. Roofs were blown off. The whole state of Ohio experienced the fierce wind which at times reached hurricane strength in some areas. It may have been a record. We don't get the full brunt of hurricanes around here, usually the rain. But there was no rain with this wind storm until a few fine splatters toward the end. It was an unusual storm for this part of Ohio; and it came all the way from the Gulf Coast and beyond.