Lost in the Shuffle

The other day I got an unsolicited phone call which turned out to be from a company that sells family videos. Lucy tries to keep me from buying or donating over the phone, and this episode clinches it.

I didn’t exactly trust the salesman’s sales pitch. It sounded almost like a computer voice; friendly enough but not warm. He said they owed us a refund of $5.00 and mentioned a film we would be interested in, especially when I told him there are children in the house.

I asked about the cost, and he said an amount which was around $12.00. I asked about VHS format, and he said it was DVD. I told him we don’t have a DVD working, could he send it VHS format. He agreed.

When I got the package, there were two DVDs and the cost was $25.75. They were cartoons, which were OK but I had expected something else. I decided to send them back. I included a letter stating that the salesman may have been trying to just make a sale by the way his sales pitch was presented. What was sent was not what I expected.

Well, the envelope was already opened and not in condition to send it back so I finally found a bubble envelope that everything would fit in. I was going to take it to the post office and I laid it on the Amish-made electric stove in the living room. It was there over the weekend.

I left the envelope open so Lucy could read the letter I wrote to them. On Monday she finally read it, but said that the DVDs were not in the envelope.

What?! I was not happy about that at all. In addition the envelope was ripped a little. Of course, these kinds of things could be a temptation to little boys, and I had thought about that, but I figured they would leave it alone. There are four boys in the house. I usually place letters to mail at that same spot and nobody touches them.

I was in a dither. Three-year-old Nolan was sitting on the couch and I mentioned about someone taking them. He responded in his defense, “I didn’t take them." The look on his face suggested indignation.

I had to go to hemodialysis but before I went I breathed a prayer in a similar line as “thank you Lord for taking care of the problem” and I tried to put it out of my mind.

But the depressed feeling would crop up again once in awhile and I kept suppressing it, knowing that God hears our prayers. I didn’t want to openly accuse anyone, I made sure the right people knew about it, especially their mother.

At bedtime I couldn’t sleep. Who could it have been—Nolan had said he didn’t do it and I believed him. I tried not to be accusatory even in my mind. At one point I got up late at night and looked to see if the DVDs had dropped out of the envelope onto the floor or under the furniture. But I remembered that I had prayed and endeavored to keep it out of my mind as best I could. Let the love in the Universe take care of it. But even under those circumstances, it is difficult to get a good night’s rest. I actually felt sick at heart at unguarded moments.

In the morning I got up and told Lucy, “How are we going to find out where the DVDs are?” Lucy asked me where the envelope was. I told her it was on my nightstand.

She got the envelope and gently talked to Nolan. When she mentioned the rip in the envelope he said that he tried to get the bubbles. Then he confessed that he hid the DVDs under the steps because he didn’t want his older brothers to get them. “They’re mine,” he said emphatically. Apparently, when he saw the cartoon characters on the packages he took possession, but he voluntarily gave them back to Lucy when he was found out.

So that was a major problem solved. I was glad that it did not have to escalate to bad feelings all around. I taped up the rip and sealed the envelope with the DVDs safely inside and took it to the post office.

The children in the house are good kids, if rather rambunctious at times.

So what about Nolan? The little fibber! I would not discipline him for something that he did in innocence. It wasn't my place anyway; we only take care of him when his parents are at work. It can be a good learning experience for him in the way it turned out. Like I said, such things are an attraction to little boys. It was my fault that it happened in the first place. Nevertheless, I breathed a prayer of thanks. We'll just have to work on helping him to tell things like it is.

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
Proverbs 3:5 & 6

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.