I went up Wednesday to be with my mom and my dad, and I didn’t think it would be so hard to see my dad go through this. I’ve heard how common this surgery is, and my sister even flew over from Winnipeg to see him for a few days, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be on ME. I know that’s selfish of me.
I’ve always been the “sick” on…the one in the hospital bed, the one getting the surgery, and it was so hard seeing my dad in the hospital bed, in the ICU, in pain. At one point, my dad even started crying because he got scared cause his dad died in the ICU years before. I’ve never seen my dad cry. It was the most heartbreaking thing in the world to see.

It’s scary how my dad went from being a generally healthy person one week to needing heart surgery the next.  I’ve realized this past week how important my parents really are to me…and I’ve come to appreciate even more my mom for staying with me constantly in the times I’ve needed to be in the hospital.  I’ve realized how draining and hard it can actually be.

I’ve realized that I need to be more careful with my OWN health and I need to help out my family more and be there for them whenever I can be.  I now know that I am willing to do anything for them.  My whole family was able to get together before my dad went into surgery, and it was really nice.  I just wish it didn’t take my dad having heart surgery to get us all together.
I’ve been lucky to have a job that supports me taking the time off to be with my family during this time.
I’m home now, and I go back to work and school…and life, tomorrow….and I’m scared. I don’t know why.

As I was reading through my homework tonight for my Abnormal Psychology class, I came across the requirements for doing research on clients. One of the requirements involves the use of an ethics worker.

I remember when all of the other choices had run out and the two choices I was left with was blood transfusions monthly the rest of my life (which would involve having a port surgically inserted in my side) or a stem cell transplant, and they left that decision up to me. It was the year 2000 and I was 16 years old, I guess and several people had issues with leaving that decision up to a child. My parents knew it was my decision, and the doctors knew it was my decision, but we still had to make sure that I was under the “right mind” when I made my decision.

Of course being a 16-year-old girl, I didn’t want to have a hole in my body, and I didn’t want to have to spend half of every fourth Friday in a hospital room. There was also the risk of constantly receiving other people’s blood, the ever increasing amount of iron (which would eventually lead to having a nightly ‘infusion’ of a drug to eliminate the excess iron), the chance of diseases in blood, etc, etc. Also, I was told to have one stem cell match in your family, the chance is 30%, I had two matches, my brother Paul, and my sister Heather (my sister Beth, unfortunately for her, is the only one out of the four of us who doesn’t match, so we’re praying she never needs a donor for anything). The choice was easy. I took it as a sign from Heavenly Father. I said to myself even BEFORE we had the cross matches done, if I had a match, I would get the transplant. I was told all the risks, I knew that there was a chance of dying, but as soon as I heard I had two matches…that was it. Then came all of the interviews with psychologists and doctors making sure that I had made the right decision. I remember meeting up with a social worker here in Lethbridge, and she said, “If there was any other 16 year old girl asked to make a choice like this, pretty much between life and death, I would question her answer. But I absolutely believe Diana is making the right decision. She KNOWS what she is getting herself into.”

Anyway…. what got all of this memory back was that reading about the ethics. I remember having to go up to Calgary into a meeting room at the Children’s Hospital with all of the Doctor’s, nurses, etc, and there was a person there in the ethics department. They had to make sure that my parents weren’t forcing me into getting the transplant, or that I was some lunatic who didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

I just find it interesting that in our own personal lives, other people are SO much involved on our own decisions. It can be scary. Do we really have that much control over our own lives?

For years, I have been told that I should write a story about my life.  I’ve always put it off, because to me…my life isn’t all that interesting.  But people keep telling me that my life is different, it’s special, and that I should share it with others.  The biggest problem is that I don’t even remember half of my life.  Through the required drugs to keep me alive, the pain that caused me to just remove it from my mind, and then other times when I was addicted to prescription pain killers just to make it through the day.

I will start with a break down of my life story, and then go through each experience bit by bit.

-       Birth to toddler: Diagnosed with the disease.

-       Toddler to preteen: Disease kept at bay by the medication

-       Preteen to 13: Remission

-       13 – 17: Return of the disease, trials and trials of different medications, then finally the stem-cell transplant

-       17-20: Recovery, high school graduation, right hip transplant, University

-       21-22: Mission

-       23-25: First love, severe depression, 2 knees replaced, suicide scare, loss of friends, and a new start.

This is going to be hard, it is going to take a lot of work and memory.  I’m sure that I will need help on points, but I’m determined to do this.

Life is getting busy with school full time, and I’m also trying to find a job.  Things are going great.  I’ve had quite a few changes happen in my life, and I’m slowly adjusting to them.

My knees are doing great, I try to swim daily and work on the physio constantly.  I did have a fall this past Saturday, but luckily it wasn’t on my knees.  It was quite funny actually.  I was at the Haunted House in Stirling, and there was this girl hiding on the ground who would grab your legs.  I didn’t see her, and trip over her, in the meantime having my hair stepped on by a friend trying to run past.  Haha, it was so funny.  My butt is sore now, but otherwise I’m fine.

Halloween is coming up, and I am excited.  My mom is making me a costume again, and I hope it works out.

I will maybe right more later…class is about to start.

Anyway, here’s an update on my life. I’m in summer school still, right now in Writing 1000. I’m learning some pretty valuable stuff. Should have taken it my first year…but I still suck at papers.

I had my 12 week follow up for my knees. Surgeon is happy with progress. I go to the gym daily to help with the range of motion. I can do the bike now! Just realized I can do the upright bike the other day. Great feat!!

I’m excited for school to start full time, hopefully my student loans go through. Currently on hold with them…finally able to get through.. I’ve tried all week!!

1) My mom got diagnosed with cancer (she’s had radiation, and everything seems well)
2) I had bi-lateral knee replacements.
3) We put down our 15 year old cat Tails today.
4) The lab my brother-in-law works at got shut down.

I’m sure there’s more…but can’t think of any.

Today has been a really sad day. Our cat Tails, who was 15 years old was put to sleep. Yesterday we noticed that her mouth was bleeding pretty bad, and also that she hadn’t been eating much lately. So we took her to the vet today (expecting the worse, she is old and has had other problems, like arthritis) and we found out that she had a tumor that was eating away at her mouth. We were given the choice of trying anti-biotics, or have a biopsy taken of her mouth, but as my family is, we didn’t want to take the chance and have her suffer more than she already was. If we did try the other stuff, we’d maybe have a few more months, and we didn’t want her to be in extreme pain at the end. We like to remember out pets happy. We don’t like it when people prolong their pet’s life when the pet is in pain. She was brave to the end. I went with my mom, and then my sister and dad showed up when we decided to have her put down. Tails was my sister’s 12th birthday present. I looked at a chart in the vet’s office, and Tails was 76 years old in cat years. There were a lot of tears. It’s still hard now being at home, expecting to see her, and then nothing. I’m really gonna miss her.
We’ve had to have 3 pets put down now since I got home from my mission 2 years ago. At least they had all lives happy long lives.
I’m trying to not cry again. It’s just really sad. We’ve had her for so long. I miss her.