The long arm of the law

On the 10th of May, 2010 I made a deal with “Jeff Heinz” who wanted to buy my red 2000 Ford Focus. He agreed to $2000 for the car, and gave me $200 down, saying that he will give $500 in two weeks, and another $500 two weeks later, etc. Because I was so anxious to sell the car I didn't see any signs, or didn't care to see, larceny in the deal. Like a dummy I signed over the title (without it being notarized, and without full payment) and they took off. There were three people involved. Two weeks later I tried to call and found out all the information he gave was false.

I went to the police, taking along as much info as I could find; pictures of the car, the VIN number and the note that Jeff wrote. Detective Metcalf checked it out and found that, now two weeks later, the car was still in my name, but it was sold to someone named Steve. Shawn was also mentioned. He was one I had talked to but he never got out of his car during the incident. The whole deal was done by Jeff, not the Jeff Heinz that he indicated on the slip of paper with his information. I should have asked for his driver’s license.

After getting no follow-up after the initial interview, I tried to call Detective Metcalf and even left a message but I didn’t get an answer either way. I finally called the sheriff’s department and told the person there about it and she looked it up, but also said that Metcalf just retired. They assigned the case to Detective Mack who, after I left a phone message, called me back the next day and clarified some details about what was recorded.

He called me Thursday morning and indicated he found the car but it will have to be towed. I told him I have a spare key, could I go with him? He called back later and agreed for me to go with him to Perrysville to hopefully retrieve the car. He would pick me up. On the way he asked a unit from the Ashland Police Department for assistance. He came at a designated spot until the police unit arrived and we drove to each place where the perpetrators lived. At that hour of the day none of them were home but there was enough information gathered to ascertain where the car actually was. It was now owned by Steve who worked in Mansfield. Det. Mack took me home and asked me to go with him the next day to the work place in Mansfield, “and bring your key along”.

But a half hour later I got a phone call from him. Steve himself will be coming to the police station in 20 minutes, could I catch a ride to the police station, second floor? Someone took me to the police station just 3 miles down the road and I waited in Det. Mack’s office and when my car came in it did not have the original license plates, but I was told it was still officially in my name.

Steve was escorted into the office and Det. Mack asked for details about how he got the car, and introduced me as the rightful owner of the vehicle. He had a legitimate reason to not suspect any illegality in the deal and Det. Mack took a statement from him while I was there.

Then word came that Shawn was also arriving. Det. Mack told me to go into the room across the hall and then Shawn came in. He’s a young man around 20 years old, tall, blond hair. Det. Mack had a preliminary interview with him and then had me come into the office. Since he had a lengthy discussion with the detective, Shawn profusely apologized to me for his part in the whole deal, of which he really did not have active part. He was not aware that Jeff, whom I dealt with, did not pay the rest of the money. Then Det. Mack had me go back across the hall again while he took a statement from Shawn. Steve and I waited in the other room.

Det. Mack told Steve that the car would have to be confiscated. He was willing to comply. Shawn, whom he knew for years, would take him home. (It was found that Jeff bought the car, had the title put in Shawn’s name, and then Shawn sold the car to Steve to relieve some debt Shawn owed Steve—so apparently Shawn was victim to Jeff’s scheme too. There was no profit made because they paid me $200 and Steve paid Shawn $200. So there is still a puzzlement in the whole transaction. Maybe a deal that Jeff made with someone else fell through, I don’t know.) Det. Mack said he would find Jeff and charge him for several counts. One of which was taking advantage of the elderly (me) since I’m over 65. (whimper)

We finished in the office and we all went to the parking lot. Det. Mack gave Steve a box and he retrieved all his belongings in the car and I now have my car back. Steve said that the car had a tune-up just a couple weeks ago. When it disappeared it had a little over 100,000 miles on it. It now has 107,000 miles. Det. Mack told me how to handle getting a duplicate title and he would look for the license plates which I originally had. Meanwhile, I am to take off the existing plates and they will be given back to Steve.

When I got home Lucy told me that Shawn had come to the house to ask where the police station was, and he had apologized to her for what happened, which was apparently out of his control.

There were a few God moments in the whole thing and it was marvelous seeing it all come together like it did.

Now, the job is to find the real culprit--Jeff. It may take some doing but Jeff had bragged to others about how he fleeced the owner of the vehicle. Loose lips will eventually sink a ship.

Another problem presented itself. I took the report of theft to Auto Title and it wasn't good enough. I would have to obtain the title of the car from the last owner, Steve. Since I was not really on close terms with him I would have to have Det. Mack work it out.

He had the title which Steve gave him and then he called Steve to come to police headquarters to sign the title over to me. I had an appointment for Tuesday and I called him up to alert him that I would not be available at the transfer. He thought it was OK, all he needed was the mileage on the car. It turned out to be 107,118 miles. As it turned out, I should have gone to the transfer meeting.

The next day I went to the police station to retrieve the title which was notarized but without my signature. Det. Mack witnessed my signature and then I was free to go to Auto Title to get a new title.

At Auto Title in downtown Mansfield, the agent noticed that the seller had put his name and address where the buyer's should be. Another bureaucratic fumble. She gave me a sheet of paper indicating that an error was made on the title and that the owner would have to have a notarized signature to indicate it. I was not a happy camper. I called the Records Department at the police station and complained about it. Bonnie suggested I call Det. Mack but I said he was probably not in his office. I called his number anyway. He was not in his office but he said I should take the title back and he would take care of it. I went to the police station again and gave the papers to Bonnie, and left. I was rather bewildered by the complications of it. I should have mentioned, why don't they just white out the address and put my address in its place.

Anyway, a few days later I called up Mack and he had it ready for me. I took the papers to Auto Title again and the agent made up another title. But she gave me two receipts. She had to do it over because of a mistake she made on the title. As I went out the door I looked it over and found F. as the middle initial. I don't use a middle initial in my name. I went back and showed it to her and she to out the offending letter and everything was back to normal. She charged me $16.00 for the title.

The car sat in the lawn for awhile again. Finally someone came along and offered to buy the car. I asked $1500 for it. Maybe it was too low, but I have a karmic conscience about selling cars with high mileage so I ended up selling it for $1200. With the $200 the first "buyer" gave me, plus the $1200, I received $1400 for it and felt happy that it was finally gone. Now, when my ship comes in I'll be sure to get a brand new vehicle. Meanwhile, I have a 2004 Dodge Grand Caravan which suits our traveling purposes. It is a RampVan. Lucy needs a wheelchair accessible vehicle and that's what we have.

I must admit, I learned my lesson in leaving the car go. I went to the bank to get the title notarized, filling out my part, and when the buyer came for the car, we sat down at my kitchen table and she started to fill out the title. I quickly said, "Would you first write out the check please." She obliged and I felt better that I didn't have to say to anyone that the car was hers before she paid for it.

Second Kidney Transplant 2010

At the end of March 2010 I took a trip East to Pennsylvania and New Jersey to visit with my brothers and sisters for a week. Lucy didn’t want to go on the 500-mile trip so I went by myself. It was a trip that had many God moments, as I call it. Visiting people and even having my dialysis time changed to make things easier for the rest of the trip.

My dialysis times were Saturday and Tuesday but on Monday I called early in the morning and they had a vacancy so I had dialysis that day which let me freely visit for the rest of the day and then go home on Wednesday. It was a worthwhile trip and I felt that God was with me many times throughout.

The trip home was at night so there was not much traffic. I got home around 8 o’clock Wednesday morning.

A week later, on Saturday, April 10, I got a phone call at 7:30 a.m. from Diane, a nurse at OSU Medical Center in Columbus. There was a kidney available and Dr. Rajab says it’s a perfect match, would I be interested?

I hesitated, and Diane noticed it. I told her I was still stinging from last year’s experience when I had a transplant which failed due to complications. I was in the hospital for four months. I don’t know if I’m ready for another go.

But by the end of the conversation I agreed to have them go through with it. She didn’t know all the particulars about it but would let us know when she got more information. She called later and gave us more info and then I gave her my cell phone number.

Later that evening, around 6:30, she called again and said that the surgery would be at 8:00 a.m. Sunday, and I was to come to OSU tonight. It just so happened that Minerva, Lucy’s niece, had some business in Columbus and she took me down to the hospital, a 75 mile trip.

I checked in and soon got a room. Doctors, nurses, technicians, and aides came to get my medical history, which is extensive, and get vials of blood.

I had a Permcath placed a couple months ago which was used for dialysis and they used it to take blood from my system. I did not have a needle stick throughout my stay at the hospital.

Lucy wanted to be with me before surgery but didn’t know if she would be able to be there before 8:00 a.m. but then I got word that there was a delay until 10:30 and I relayed the news to her. She was on her way and relieved that she could be here to be with me, and then there was another delay, until noon. We just waited.
Dr. Rajab’s assistant came to tell me about the latest delay and I asked him about the kidney. He said he wasn’t at liberty to talk about it but he did say that it was from a young man about a third my age, and it was a perfect match. The kidney was coming from Florida and would be at the airport at 11:30 and a helicopter would bring it to the hospital.

Finally, I was taken down to the OR. Dr. Rajab was asked what the delay was and he commented about red tape. Where did that kidney come from? I never found out but later he did tell me it was imported. From where, he wouldn’t or couldn’t say.
I was wheeled into the OR and I don’t remember falling asleep but I woke up over three hours later and then was taken to the “Presidential Suite”, actually two rooms where one had the bed and the other had a cabinet with a large TV, a sofa and side table with a telephone. I was taken into the second room to the hospital bed. I don’t know if there are any other suites like that in the hospital.

The next step was administering the immuno suppressant medicine—intravenously. During the process my whole body contracted and I had almost excruciating pain, which they said is common during the first dose. There were three doses over the day and by that time there was no pain during the process. The next step would be to take pills for the rest of my life in order to keep the kidney from being rejected.
A nurse coordinator told me that, since the kidney is a perfect match, in a year I should be able to have the immuno suppressant medicine reduced quite a bit.

I met a number of nurses that I had seen the year before and they were glad to see me. To them, I am a model patient, their favorite, some said. They were quite pleased with the progress I was making and by Friday I was ready to go home. They took the Permcath out of my left shoulder, and then holding the site for a half hour to prevent bleeding, placed a bandage over where it had been.

On Friday they got a wheelchair to take me down to the lobby to go home and as I passed by the nurses’ station, they all—all 10 of them—stood up and wished me well. I almost cried.

Lucy was waiting with Minerva, her niece, who was driving, and I finally was home and starting a new life, as it were. Retired, no dialysis, and trying to find how to handle it all.

Trip East

I had a hankering to visit family sometime in March or April. My brothers and sisters are in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Georgia. Traveling east I could at least accomplish two out of three. Since I was on dialysis it meant I had to have arrangements for dialysis in New Jersey. I could have opted for Pennsylvania at Grandview Hospital in Sellersville, PA, where I was born, but I settled for two treatments in New Jersey. My usual treatments are on Monday, Wednesday, Friday but the Social Worker told me that there was only room on Saturday and Tuesday. It was OK with me. I had initially asked for a Friday morning treatment because I wanted to attend a Passover commemoration at the church I used to belong to before I came to Ohio.

On March 31 I took off. Since Lucy didn't really want to go that far I rented a car, a 2009 Mazda, and took off around noon Wednesday. I had had dialysis in the morning that day so I was ready to travel. The next treatment would be Saturday, rather far away from Wednesday for a dialysis patient but I did it before. I just have to watch my fluid intake.

My wife Lucy had given me a GPS unit for Christmas and I took it along. It was great to just put in the address to which I wanted to go and it would take me right there. I traveled east from my place on Park Avenue East and took Koogle Road toward I-71 and it took me all the way to I-76 to the Pennsylvania border. I wanted to take Route 80 so I wondered what the GPS would say. When I arrived at the junction of 80 and 76 it told me to continue I-76. I ignored it and took Route 80. Route 80 has no tolls, I-76 had loads of tolls.

But at the next exit it told me to take it. Curious, I took the exit and then realized it wanted me to turn around. I got back onto 80 and ignored its pleas to turn off at several exits I passed. I then called my cousin Warren and asked what exit I should take off of 80. It was a couple hundred miles away. I told him I should be there by 8 p.m.

It was a long drive and I came to the exit indicated and traveled another 100 miles through towns and over hill and dale. It was quite scenic but I grew a little tired of driving but I kept going. I stopped for a bite to eat at a drive-through.

At long last, as it was almost dark, I arrived at my destination, Hackman Paving, and looked at the clock. It was 8:00 o'clock. Warren told me he was going to be in church so I made myself comfortable in his house and waited for him to arrive, and fell asleep. It had been a long day.

He finally showed up around 10 p.m. and we sat and talked until midnight. I then slept in the guest room and had a good night's sleep. My itinerary was to visit a couple places while in Lancaster County, but first Warren got his crews off to their asphalt paving jobs and then we went out for a leisurely breakfast.

The Martin's Pretzel Bakery in Akron is owned by Warren's brother-in-law and sister and I went there to visit with cousin Kathryn. We had a nice conversation and then I took off to visit with another family before heading for New Jersey by way of I-76 which is the toll road.

I don't know what time of day would have been best but when I got off the Turnpike I had bumper-to-bumper traffic for miles to the Ben Franklin Bridge to New Jersey. My brother-in-law told me later that the Schuylkill Expressway is always crowded. I don't wonder, there are more cars on the road than ever before and the existing roadways just can't take the volume.

I finally arrived at my sister Jane's house and settled in. My parents had lived there before they passed on and the rooms were about the same as what I remembered when I had visited with them.

This was Thursday and one thing I wanted to do was to have a haircut. Years ago I got the best haircut in Maple Shade and I looked in the phone book for barbers and hair dressers and found one that had been near the place where I had the haircut before.

I was not disappointed. I finally looked decent, with the hair dresser trimming my hair not too short. I would look better for the get-together Friday evening. I spent the rest of the day visiting with friends. One was in a retirement home and she was so glad to see me. I believe it was about 25 years since I saw her last and I didn't recognize her anymore, but she said I looked familiar and when I said my name she gave me a hug, glad to see me. My sister Jane had visited with her a few times.

The next evening we attended the Passover commemoration at a resort and I met more friends I hadn't seen for years. I was rather popular with them when I had the kidney transplant last year and they were quite supportive with their prayers and best wishes in spite of the outcome, which was kidney failure due to a huge blood clot that could have done me in.

The dialysis was scheduled for 11 a.m. I woke up at around 6:30 and thought about the plans for the day. Then I noticed the cell phone blinking. It was a voicemail wondering where I was. I had an appointment at 6:00 a.m. and I was nowhere to be seen, he said.

Six a.m.?! I quickly got everything together and, thanks to my GPS found the place pretty quickly. I stopped at a 7/11 for a sandwich and figured to have breakfast during the treatment. I sat in the waiting room and took a couple bites of my sandwich; and that's all I was able to have until after the treatment.

I was escorted to my place in a large room where there were dozens of chairs and dialysis units, with people having their treatment. I was hooked up and then given papers to fill out for insurance. I asked if I could eat the rest of my sandwich and the answer was no, and he explained. One time a woman was eating something and she passed out during treatment. They had quite a time clearing things out so she would not choke and they made the rule, no more eating during treatment. I figured I could live with it.

When treatment was finished I weighed myself and found that I lost about 10 pounds! That must have been a record. I usually get cramps if too much fluid is taken out. But I did not feel any ill effects and I left feeling pretty good.

The rest of the trip was a series of events, God moments, and one bedeviled moment when I was tinkering with my camera at my brother Ron's house in Harleysville, PA and all the pictures I took in New Jersey disappeared...forever. (sigh)

After visiting with Ron I left for home, stopping at Newmanstown to stay overnight at cousin Warren's place. I left there around 1:30 in the morning and the trip was pleasantly uneventful. Little traffic. Good weather. And by around 8 a.m. I arrived at home safe and sound.

I told Lucy I would like to make these trips twice a year. She does not wish to travel so far but I can always rent a car.

Kidney Transplant 3

This is the third installment of the story of my hospital stays between January and May. If you're sensitive to medical stories, read it at your own gustatory peril. I eventually recovered. One of my body parts didn't.

I finally had a kidney transplant which worked fine. I had asked the doctor if I could have the same setup I had since I was three years old but he told me it was not feasible; I would be subject to infection since I was taking immunosuppressant medication to keep the kidney from being rejected.

I settled down to getting used to the new setup—a urinary pouch. It filled up pretty quickly and sometimes it was so full I thought it would burst. I emptied it in time though and continued to recover from the operation. At times I forgot to shut the pouch spigot off and I would find my gown wet, and also my own bathrobe. A nurse obligingly cleaned it for me—twice! This was something I had to get used to. When I was made aware that a lot of people have this setup, it made me more empathetic toward that lifestyle. You can get used to it and nobody notices. However, the pouches last only so long and every few days—maybe up to a week—it has to be changed. There was a wound nurse who changed it and I watched her so I could get the technique down pat.

But there was another problem that was presenting itself. I was getting a sore on my abdomen, about where the surgical procedure had been. It developed into a larger sore but I was sent home and in the care of Home Healthcare nurses. Lucy helped to change the pouch every few days.

The nurse would take blood samples to send to the lab for checking my condition every couple of days. It was difficult lying in bed so I sat on the armchair in the living room overnight. I still had a ways to go to feel comfortable.

Then one day I decided to go down in the basement to my computer. It was a mistake. When I went back up the stairs I was extremely out of breath and needed to sit down quickly. Something was definitely wrong. Lab tests showed I was low in hemoglobin so I was ordered back to the hospital—a 70 mile trek. They wanted to check if I had internal bleeding.

This was in February and there was snow on the ground—lots of it. We found an ambulance that would take patients more than to local hospitals. It got stuck in our lane. Fortunately, our neighbor on the other side of the street had a tractor with a snowplow and he graciously moved snow around to let them drive about 100 feet into the lane. The EMTs asked if I could step up onto the ambulance. I couldn't, so they put the gurney on the ground and I lay on it and they hoisted me in. It was a long ride to Columbus.

At the hospital again I was given blood transfusions and bed rest to recover. Meanwhile, the sore on my abdomen was getting more pronounced and when one of the residents came around I pointed it out to him. When a whole team of doctors and attendants came around again the resident pointed it out to the nephrologist in charge. The doctor said that it should be kept moist with ointment, and they left the room. I was sitting in a chair just then and I stood up and suddenly noticed a wet spot on my gown. I checked and the wound in question was leaking.

This is not a nice story to tell, and don't bother eating lunch while you read this, unless you not too sensitive about it. I was not happy about this new development. A nurse was still in the room and she called the team back and she was instructed to put on a pouch. That would be two pouches I would have to deal with. I was not happy. As she put it on I asked her if she saw a lot of this kind of wound. She said it was not too common but she did see quite a few of them in over 30 years of nursing. Arrangements would have to be made to deal with it. It was apparently a leak in the intestinal wall where they had taken a portion to create the diversion. It was fortunate that it leaked to the outside. A leak toward the inside would have been disastrous.

How they dealt with it was to put me on intravenous TPN, a protein fluid (it looked like milk) that would be my breakfast, lunch and dinner (breakfast, dinner and supper) for over two months. I was hooked to the IV machine for almost four months.

Meanwhile, I kept myself in pretty good spirits; especially when people came around—doctors, nurses, and nurses aides. They took my vital signs at all hours of the day and night. They wanted to make sure the kidney was functioning OK, and they could ascertain the condition by the numerous lab draws. I developed fits of coughing and a nurse would come in, mostly at night, and give me respiratory therapy. I felt I was gradually getting worse from something and I soon noticed that my urinary output was less and less.

I also developed dry heaves, gagging. The nurse would give me medicine for it but I often had these spells. Fortunately, that's all they were. I was the only one in the room, but sometimes at night I felt that there was someone else there, "No Never Alone". One time I did get into a depressed state and I cried like a baby, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. No one was there.

My legs started to swell. I had exercised every day by taking walks but then I suddenly couldn't walk. I lay in bed for weeks. They told me I had a huge blood clot, from my right leg to the liver, via the vena cava. The vena cava is a major vein to the heart. and that seemed to be the reason the kidney was not functioning as well. They took me to the OR and tried to put a filter in to keep blood clots from getting to the heart. They couldn't do it; it was clotted in that area. What would they do next?

One day, when the team made its daily rounds, the nephrologist explained everything to me. The whole room was full of his team and a couple of nurses. He went into detail about everything that was happening to me. He spoke with a foreign accent so I couldn't follow everything he said, but what he was saying became overwhelming and I started to get a little emotional, enough for the whole room to tense up but everyone was empathetic. After they left one of the nurses stayed behind and asked if I understood everything. She spent some time explaining everything he had said and I felt better for it. The doctor had said that I was one of his healthier patients.

Every day for a week they took me to the OR and systematically dissolved the blood clots. The mantra throughout the whole ordeal was "this is going to sting and burn." It would sting for a few seconds and I sort of got used to it by the seventh day. Maybe I was sedated a little—maybe—but I was awake through the whole process. Besides that pain, it was painful for me to be transferred to and from the operating table, which also lasted only a few seconds. I told them I would have to hold my leg while they transferred and it wouldn't be so painful. I had broken my left leg twice, in 2005 and 2007, and that was partly the reason. I also have a bad hip. Why me, Lord?! I had been walking with a crutch since the first break. Now I couldn't even walk. My legs were swelled up to huge proportions and I eventually noticed that there was very little urinary output. I knew I was in for the long haul.

I had to deal with the pouches. One day there were five pouch changes because of leaks, and when your digestive juices hit your skin, you can get a hellavu rash—witness diaper rash on babies butts; the same principle.

The doctor was sympathetic to my plight and he ordered that I could have juices to drink, to counter the monotony of eating nothing. Of course, it meant emptying the pouch oftener. I was not in a good situation, but I kept my spirits up and sought to learn all the facets of my medical anomalies and recovery. The nurses and aides liked me a lot.

I'll continue the story in the next writing. There's only so much you can remember about being four months in the hospital. That was in Ohio State University Medical Center in Columbus, Ohio in early 2009. What a way to start out the year!

Sunday School class

An interesting event happened on September 27. In our Sunday School at Mennonite Christian Assembly in Fredericksburg, OH we belong to the Lamplighter Class, ages 55 and above. Once a month we have a social time, mostly at the church on a Sunday evening, where Lamplighters bring their favorite foods, and games, and we have fellowship together.

A couple weeks before, Lucy invited the class to come to our place on Sunday evening. She suggested we’d have a hot dog roast and people could bring food. A couple of people offered to bring firewood for the campfire.

Saturday, we were invited to a wedding and we woke up to a light rain. What a day for a wedding! We traveled about 40 miles to our destination, being soaked by passing trucks and tractor trailers who stirred up wetness of the roads, and we had to deal with rain which made me put on the windshield wipers to fast speed.

But a few miles from our destination the rains stopped. It was heavily cloudy but we arrived at the farm where the wedding was held. During the whole ceremony and reception there was no rain although the weather was so heavy that it became almost foggy at 2 p.m.

On the way home we encountered rain again. We wondered what it would be like tomorrow (Sunday) when we would have the Sunday School class at our place. I chose not to worry about it. We never had the Sunday School class at our place and it would be nice if the weather would cooperate so we could have a good time. If the whole class would show up we might not have room for them although the house is rather spacious. But it will be a nice day. The Universe will make sure of that. I felt rather confident, and chased away any little doubts that would crop up. You remember what it says in Scripture: For verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith. Mark 11:23

Sunday morning we went to church in a light rain—a 37 mile trip. While we were in Sunday School Lucy pointed out to me that it was still raining. So? . . . When it was asked who would be coming to the Hackmans, there was show of hands which represented a little less than half the class, but it was a good number. When someone wondered if we would indeed have them come rain or shine, I said, “Yes, come—you’re all invited.” They noticed the rain, but anything can happen in a few hours.

It was raining a little when we set out for home around noon. Lucy wanted to stop at Walmart for hot dogs. It’s a 37 mile trip home and we traveled on Route 30. Pretty soon I saw a glimmer of light in the clouds which showed that the weather might be breaking up. And it stopped raining!

We drove to the Walmart in Ashland. The clouds were continuing to break up as the sun started to peek through. We shopped for awhile and when we came out the sun was shining and it was quite windy. The clouds still looked threatening in a couple of directions but it was mostly sunny by this time. And the clouds were moving fast!

We arrived home and Lucy did some more preparation. The outdoor picnic would be at 5 p.m. I had asked Jason about mowing the back acreage during the week and he got a young man with a Bush Hog mower that chopped down the tall weeds and grass, a couple of acres in size. I also had suggested that the burn pile be cleaned up but they didn’t have the time or the equipment so that was left undone. When I asked Lucy about having a campfire she told me she knew where it would be. She was in control of the whole thing, and she wouldn't tell me. "Yes, dear." (I always have the last word.)

At 4 p.m. Sunday, Eli and Clara Mast showed up with firewood and he started the fire right where Lucy had placed a marker. It was at a stony part of the lawn just southwest of the house. By this time the wind was not as brisk but still a little stiff to try to build a fire. I suggested that he park his car on the windward side.

Because of the wind, the grass and everything dried off, making it nice for an outdoor picnic. More people came and I was still watching Eli tend to the fire when I saw a couple of women carrying the picnic table and chairs onto the cement parking area where I usually park our vehicles. The ladies set up the eating area, laid out the food, and by 5 p.m. we were ready for the picnic. A couple of men roasted the hot dogs over the now hot fire. Three-year-0ld Nolan was there to watch and supervise and roast a hotdog or two. I don't know where his brother Nathan was.

It was amazing to see how the weather changed to a suitable atmosphere for a nice time at our place. I should have chronicled the weather change with my camera. Everything came together in what you could call a miraculous way. And twenty-two people showed up.

We had hot dogs, casseroles, salads, cheese, nuts, sodas, desserts. We were not disappointed in anything. After we ate, we all gathered around the fire and talked until almost dark.

The group started to break up and they remarked about the good weather, the good time, and that they finally know where we live. Some of the ladies took it upon themselves to clean everything up. Men and women put chairs back in their customary places, whether they were brought by some, or taken from the house.

Lucy was able to connect some of the families she knew with the people that were there, many of them being ex-Amish. It was a nice time for a private conversation with some. It was really her day. We’ll have to do it again.

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.