I will forever be thankful

Eighteen years ago today, I was given another chance at life. For this I will be forever thankful!
My chances were slim to almost none. There was only one hospital in Canada that would even consider doing a transplant under these circumstances, and there was no room at the University of Alberta Hospital in the liver transplant department. When the Liver specialist in Saskatoon determined that my only chance to live was to send me, he did.  As someone in intensive care, they had to accept me.  The first loophole was met.

In Edmonton, each of my family was interviewed one at a time, and the experts determined that I had been a good Mom, deserving of another chance. Another giant step; I was put on the list at #1 in Canada in need of a liver.  My husband was given the facts; I had at most two days to live.  Furthermore, even if I received a healthy liver in time, I was given only a 50% chance of survival.

But there were people praying, thousands of them.  The word spread like wildfire through churches, through the Capenwray Bible School our daughter had attended in England,  through the ministry my friend Mary worked for. Our home church was even praying 24 hours a day for me!  Dear friends were taking turns throughout the days and nights to make sure I was always covered in prayer.

After just 4 hours of being on the list for a liver, a perfect liver was found in Quebec. What a miracle!
There was so much rejoicing for this answer to prayer. I will forever be grateful to the person and her family who made this liver available for transplant. It has been such a good match, that I have experienced no rejection in these 18 years. This day is a day of celebration and thanksgiving.

Two things to highlight. A priceless gift to give is our organs when we die. It is wonderful to think that when we die, our organs could allow many others to continue to live. What a precious blessing.
Another thing I want to draw attention to is mental illness. I almost died because I was experiencing an extreme low time and hadn’t been diagnosed yet with bipolar disorder. Furthermore, I was on the wrong medication, which made things much worse. Don’t be afraid to go for help. Get involved in a support group.  I plan to begin one soon in Wainwright. Please call or text me if you are interested in being a part of our group. There is no cost involved. We welcome anyone who is suffering with a mental illness. My number is 780-887-5647.

Feb 12th, a Dark Anniversary

If I knew then what I know today.....

...     I would have gone to the Emergency.
  ...    Or gone to talk to a close friend.
     ...   I would have told my husband what I was going through, instead of trying to protect him.
       ...  Or gone to my church to talk to our pastor, who would have taken me to emergency.
          ... I would know that this was temporary, that life would become tolerable again.
           ...  If I had belonged to a mental health support group, there would be someone to listen.

But none of these scenarios happened.  Instead, I went to a funeral. After 6 weeks of suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, and almost no sleep, all I could think of was I wanted to be her. At the front of the church, in a casket, without thoughts, at peace, in heaven. I wanted the pain and the bad thoughts gone. My family would be happier, better off without me, I reasoned. Actually, I didn't reason, as my mind wasn't functioning properly.

Following the funeral, I drove straight to the pharmacy, and being Valentine's Day was just two days away, I carefully bought four. One for Ed, Jenna, Michael and Breanna. I also picked up a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol and drove home.

On each of the Valentines I wrote what a wonderful person each of them was, then placed each card on that person's pillow. Then I got back in my vehicle and drove past the Meadow Lake Pulp Mill where my husband was the manager. The reason I hadn't shared with him how bad my depression was, because he had recently laid off 28 workers, many of them our personal friends. He had also been taking classes to earn his MBA while he managed the pulp mill.  In the midst of this stressful time, his Dad passed away. I felt I couldn't add to his stress, so I kept quiet. Part of my problem was being on the wrong medication, but I didn't realize there were other options.

So there I sat on an abandoned road, feeling completely empty. I began counting as I ingested the Extra Strength Tylenol. I counted to 50 and waited. Several minutes passed.

Thankfully, I was reminded that my daughter Breanna had asked for a ride home from school, so I drove back to Meadow Lake. I still felt OK, so I made supper and then became sick. Ed went to the church council meeting, never dreaming what was happening to me. By morning, when Ed checked on me, my liver was already too far gone. Panic stricken, Ed gathered me up in his arms and rushed me to the hospital.

This is what happened 18 years ago today. My book, "Rescue from Darkness" tells the whole story. The reason I am sharing is to help prevent others from taking their lives. There is help available. Don't stay in a dark place alone. I would love to show you support and many others would as well.
I needed more education about mental illness, and support. Hopefully, there will soon be a mental health support group in Wainwright.  Please let me know if you are interested in attending.  There is no cost involved.  By the grace of God, the prayers of many, and wonderful health care I am alive.  I am so thankful that my family did not have to endure the pain of losing me through suicide.

My phone number is 780-887-5647 if you need to talk to someone.

My Husband's Experience

The following post was written by my loving husband Ed.  I am sure it hasn't been easy remembering what he and our children went through during this very difficult time for them.  I have shed alot of tears, reading what they went through.  I thank each of them for writing down their experiences, as it is impossible for me to remember, as I was in a coma much of this time.  A huge thank you to Ed for taking the time, and to Jenna for getting pertinent information from medical records at the University of Alberta hospital.   Finally, thank you to God for the many ways He rescued me from death, as well as thanks to scores of praying people and wonderful medical personnel.  I truly am so grateful to be alive.

My Experience During Wendy’s Liver Transplant - by Ed Roste

It has been almost 11 years to the day that I discovered my wife lying in bed with her life hanging in the balance.  I will forever remember that early morning ….

The night before Wendy had been complaining about feeling sick so I put her to bed in our guest room so she would have a quiet sleep.  I then went off to our church council meeting.  Returning home later that evening I went to check on her and found she was sleeping.  In our bedroom I noticed a card on my pillow.  It was a Valentine’s Day card from Wendy in which she said she loved me very much …. It was two days early which seemed a bit strange … but I thought no further about it and went to bed alone.

The next morning I got up early as usual, but before getting ready for work I went into the guest room to see how Wendy was doing.  I noticed a white powdery substance on top of the bed covers beside her and it was apparent she had vomited during the night.  There was a strange odor and I had a sense that something was not normal.  As I tried to arouse her she was only responsive enough to tell me “I took some pills”.  There was a sudden feeling of panic and horror that immediately engulfed my heart as I cried out … “God please help me, have mercy on Wendy, please save her life”.  I frantically ran to the bathroom to check out what she had taken.  There I noticed a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol that was half empty.  I quickly picked her up in my arms and carried her to the car and drove to the hospital.  In my panic I hadn’t noticed that all I was wearing was shorts and t-shirt (it was February in Saskatchewan)

She was by now seriously ill from the effects of the overdose and in need of emergency medical treatment.  When we arrived at the hospital I was met by a nurse at the emergency ward who asked me what happened and immediately directed me to a room where we placed Wendy on a bed.  On call that morning were two of the most experienced doctors in Meadow Lake, both were believers, one of was a member of our church, a friend, and a fellow member with me on our church council.  He began attending to Wendy while the other doctor took me into a private room to ask me details of what occurred and prayed together with me.  He explained to me that there was an antidote available for Tylenol overdoses and that if we were fortunate enough to get it into Wendy before too much damage was done to her liver the effects were completely reversible.  I could only hope that this was the case.

Prior to this, Wendy had been struggling with depression for several weeks and had seen a new doctor to get some anti-depressants in an attempt to pull her out of the spiral she was in.  After sensing little change, she had gone back and the doctor tripled the dose.  Unknown to me she experienced serious side effects from the particular anti-depressant she was prescribed.  These included ongoing panic attacks and suicidal thoughts.  All of which she hid from me in an attempt to avoid placing any burden on me.  Wendy was well aware of the stress I was under with my father having passed away only a few weeks earlier at a time when I also had to take the company I was managing through a restructuring process … which meant letting go many people in our small community.  Included in those who lost their jobs were close friends of our, people in our church, some in our Bible study group, and some were on the worship team we lead.  It was a very painful time, and we both felt devastated by this.  To add to this, I was taking my Masters of Business Administration on line. 

As Wendy lay in the hospital emergency room, antidote was fed intravenously into her and multiple tests were done to see if her liver was responding.  I stayed in the waiting room crying out to God to save her life while questioning why I had not been able to see her suffering before it got to this point?

After several hours had passed the doctor came and told me that Wendy’s liver was not responding as they had hoped and that she would have to be transferred to Saskatoon’s University Hospital by air ambulance if there was any hope to save her life.  Although he did not offer his opinion, I could tell by the look on my friend’s face that he was not optimistic about her prognosis.   There "happened" to be an air ambulance close to Meadow Lake, as it had been ordered, cancelled, but then came for Wendy.

My mind raced as I assessed what I needed to do next.  I quickly went home and began to notify friends and family, packed some clothes, and went to gather up our youngest two children (Michael and Breanna) from their schools.  I called our oldest daughter Jenna (who was enrolled in the nursing program at the U of A in Edmonton) and explained what happened and asked her to take a bus to meet us in Saskatoon.  I also called my mother who lives in Saskatoon to ask her to meet Wendy at the hospital when she arrived ahead of the rest of us.

I went to pick up our children from their schools.  I tried to remain composed as I did my best to explain to Michael and Breanna what happened to their mother then we then began the long journey towards Saskatoon.  As we drove I encouraged them not to think badly about their mom, explaining that the medication she had been taking had caused her to not think clearly.  I explained she still loved us and we prayed as we drove towards the University Hospital in Saskatoon.  During the journey I opened the glove compartment to look for a Kleenex when I spotted a letter with my name on it.  It was from Wendy saying she was sorry for what she had done and explaining she wanted to go home to be with Jesus and that she believed we would be better off without her.  I would later find out that she had driven out into the country where she parked, wrote this note and took the overdose of pills before coming back home to wait for the consequences to take hold.  She had remembered promising Breanna she would pick her up after school.

As I read her letter to us it would have been very easy to feel completely abandoned by God.  However, that was not how it felt.  I felt a sadness for my wife and felt deep compassion for her.  I was concerned about her spiritual condition.  But my faith refused to entertain the possibility that God abandoned her.  He promised never to leave us or forsake us and in every circumstance to not allow us to be tempted beyond what we could bare but to provide a way of escape.  So, I continued to cry out to God asking for His mercy for Wendy … I did not know it at the time but over the next several months I would need to be in an almost constant state of prayer and my faith would be tested over and over again.

When we arrived at the University Hospital we found Wendy lying in a bed in the emergency ward.  Doctors and nurses were performing tests checking Wendy’s liver functions.  My mother was there sitting beside her bed obviously very concerned.  Wendy was awake and responsive.  She looked at us with a sad look and then hugged the kids and told them she loved them, they asked her why she wanted to die?  As in her note she restated that she felt she was not a good mother and that we would be better off without her and she just wanted to go to be with Jesus.  Because she was still in a depressed state of mind I am not sure our strong objections meant much to her at that point.

I recall one of the attending doctors in the emergency ward was particularly blunt in her assessment as she spoke to Wendy with a certain coldness and matter-of-fact style … “Do you know what you’ve done? You are going to need a liver transplant or you are going to die!”

Wendy was moved out of emergency to one of the ward rooms for further monitoring.  During this time several of our close friends had arrived as had our oldest daughter from Edmonton.  We all gathered around to express our love to Wendy and pray with her.  However, we could tell that she was starting to fail and her body was starting to shut down.  She was very tired and sleepy and some of her comments were not making sense.  Nurses were testing her by asking her questions like what the names of our children were.  It was sad to see her having to pause to think about her own children’s names.

It was during this time the liver specialist called me aside and began to explain to me that Wendy’s only chance of survival was to get a liver transplant.  However, he explained that there was no liver transplant program in Saskatchewan and her chances of getting into any of the seven hospitals in Canada that performed transplants was very slim as they did not accept patients who intentionally destroyed their liver through suicide attempts.  He continued to explain that the University Hospital in Edmonton is the only place in Canada that accepts patients on compassionate grounds, but that did not happen very often because there are many people waiting to get onto the transplant list who would qualify first.  He said liver transplants cost over $250,000 each and that requires them to make very difficult choices about who gets accepted.  He also said that even if she was admitted into U of A Hospital the chances of finding a liver as quickly as Wendy would need one was extremely low.  He said I should prepare myself and our children for the likelihood Wendy was going to die.  I can still hear those haunting words, the sense of hopelessness and despair.  Yet somehow I still felt God’s presence through the darkness.

He said all he could do at this point was to make some calls and try to get Wendy transferred to Edmonton’s liver transplant program.  I thanked him and asked him to do his best.  I turned to our children and tried to put on a brave face as I explained the situation.  We began to pray that God would open a way for Wendy to get into the Edmonton liver transplant program.

My faith was stretched to the breaking point as I watched Wendy drift from being fully conscious into a coma.  Over the course of the day her speech began to slur and become incoherent, she lost control of body movements, her eyes began to show signs of yellowing and she eventually drifted off into unconsciousness.

Breanna and Michael were taken to my mother’s apartment by friends to eat and get some sleep while the hospital staff allowed Jenna to crawl into bed with her mother and spend the night next to her.  She lay there all night praying for her mom who slowly became non-responsive … Jenna knew this may be the last act of love she could show to the woman who gave her life.  It was heart breaking to think that the woman I love might spend her last moments of life with her daughter clinging to her in love … but it would take God’s love to overcome the power of death that had a grip on Wendy.

Not long after our previous discussion the doctor returned and explained to me that his request to transfer Wendy to Edmonton had been denied because their transplant program was already full.  I felt sick to my stomach.  In desperation I asked if I could drive her to Edmonton.  He said she would not survive the trip in a car without life support.  He said there was one last way to get her to the U of A Hospital and that was to put her in the ICU at the U of S Hospital and then have her transferred to the ICU at the U of A Hospital.  He explained that there were protocols in place where hospitals could not refuse inter-hospital transfers between ICU’s.  I felt a small ray of hope and asked him to please do this.  He emphasized that this still did not mean she would be accepted into the transplant program but that at least she would be in the U of A Hospital in Edmonton where the staff there could directly consider her suitability for acceptance into the transplant program.  I thanked him and allowed a small amount of hope into my heart once again.

When the transfer plans were finalized I was told Wendy would be flown to Edmonton by air ambulance and that I could go along with her.  I phoned and told my mother and children the good news.  A friend volunteered to drive our car with my mother and our children to Edmonton so that I could stay behind to ride along on the plane with Wendy.  So, my family headed off to Edmonton while I stayed and waited for the ambulance.

By now our pastor and his wife had arrived from Meadow Lake and were there to pray along with me.  He told me that the church was organizing a 24hour prayer vigil for Wendy and the word was spreading to other prayer chains.  Little did I know that churches as far away as New Zealand, Australia, and England would come on board to uphold Wendy and our family with their prayers in the days to come.

As I waited for the air ambulance to be organized I went into the ICU to see Wendy and to lay hands on her and pray.  By now she was in a coma and I did not know if she could hear anything I said as I told her I loved her.  I then went back to the waiting room and continued to pray and cry out to God to show mercy on Wendy and find a way to get her on the transplant list.  The Women’s Pastor from our church and her husband also arrived and came along side me as we prayed as I waited for the air ambulance.  Finally the call came that the ambulance was ready to take Wendy to Edmonton.  I could hardly believe it when I was told that I could not go along in the plane.  One of the attendants told me he was puzzled why I was told I could go along because this was not allowed and had not been done before.  How was I to get to Edmonton?  By now I had already been up for two full days without sleep.  I was too exhausted to rent a car and drive myself.  At that moment our pastor volunteered to drive the five our journey through the night to Edmonton.  I was so thankful and relieved.  We stayed awake the whole time talking and praying as we drove.  During the drive I had time to reflect on the past couple days and felt a deep sadness that I had let Wendy down.  How could I have not seen her pain?  Was I partly to blame for what she was feeling?  What if I had taken more time to talk with her as I put her to bed the night before?  Maybe she would have said something sooner and we could have got her the antidote in time?

When we arrived in Edmonton it was around 5am.  Our kids, my mother and an ever growing list of Wendy’s immediate family had come to the hospital from around Alberta.  However, Wendy had just arrived minutes before we did.  Our growing crowd of supporters gathered with us in the ICU waiting room and we began a non-stop prayer vigil to seek God’s mercy to heal Wendy.  Friends and family volunteered to take turns around the clock to stay in the waiting room and pray.  Although no one seemed to mind, I am not sure how the hospital staff felt about our turning the ICU waiting room into our prayer center?

Shortly after we arrived two ladies came to see me and asked if I would accompany them to a private room where we could talk.  They introduced themselves as a Social Worker and the Liver Transplant Coordinator.  They began to interview me and ask questions about Wendy and our family.  Did she have a history of suicide attempts?  How was our marriage?  How often did she experience depression?  Did she drink or use any drugs?  How would she feel if she receives a liver transplant?  Would she have the support she needs afterwards?  The questions were many.  After they finished with me they asked to speak with each of our children. 

When they had asked enough questions, they gathered us all together again in the private room and explained that they were going to decide if Wendy would be put on the transplant list.  They said they would let us know shortly and left.  We went back to the waiting room and explained what had happened.  Our rather large prayer group now began to pray that they would decide to put Wendy on the transplant list.

An hour or so later, the Social Worker and Transplant Coordinator came back and asked if the children and I would join them again in the private room.  They told us that they decided to put Wendy on the list and that she had been given the No.1 priority in all of Canada.  This meant that any liver that came available anywhere in Canada and was a match for her would be made available to her for a transplant.  However, they cautioned the likelihood of finding a liver was still very slim.  The average wait even for those at the very top of the list was between two to nine weeks, the average wait for anyone else was over 9 months.  She continued … “and Wendy has only about two days left before she will die”.  Nevertheless, for the first time in over two days my heart dared to hope.  God had come through and answered a huge prayer … surely now God would find her a liver?!  I went back to the waiting room and told our friends and family the amazing news.  We rejoiced and thanked God for answering our prayers.  Our faith had been tested and God had come through … now for the biggest test of all … we needed to believe and pray that a liver would be made available.

At this point I had not slept for almost three days.  So, my oldest daughter and I decided to go to her dorm room a short walk from the hospital and get some sleep.  The fact that Jenna was a student in the U of A was convenient for us at that moment.  As we got ready to lay down for a sleep, we prayed together and Jenna said … “Dad, I believe God has given me a word of scripture for Mom … and she proceeded to read from Isaiah 54 vs 7&8 … “for a brief moment I deserted you, but with great compassion I will gather you.  In overflowing anger for a moment I hid my face from you, but with everlasting love I will have compassion on you, says the Lord your Redeemer”.  I said to Jenna that is a beautiful thought.  It did seem that God had turned His back on Wendy for a brief moment … but I know He loves her and we must trust that He will have compassion and restore her.

We prayed again and as we lay our heads down and were about to go to sleep … suddenly the phone rang.  Jenna answered and it was our pastor.  He told her … “They have found a liver, it is in Montreal, it is a perfect match and they are flying it out right now.  They have scheduled Wendy to go into surgery for a transplant around 4 am”.  It had been only 4 hours from the time the Transplant Coordinator had told us it could take up to 9 weeks to find a liver.  More importantly it was only a couple minutes since God gave Jenna a promise from the scripture for her Mom.  We rejoiced, we cried, we thanked God for His mercy and faithfulness … then we slept.

We slept well and were up and over to the hospital before 4 am so we could gather with friends and family to pray for Wendy as she went into surgery.  We were told the surgery could take as long as 8 hours depending on how things went.  As we prayed we saw Wendy being wheeled by the waiting room by a surgical team on her way to the operating room.  As I looked out the window to see my wife connected to many tubes and a ventilator to help her breath … I wondered to myself … would I ever see her alive again?  My heart skipped a beat … as I contemplated the possibilities.  There was a sense of darkness as I watched her disappear down the hallway.  I have to believe … I told myself!  Now was not the time to allow fear and doubt to take over.  God would not have brought us this far only to let her die!

Hours passed as the surgery proceeded.  Our family and friends took turns praying, and sharing our memories of Wendy.  The time seemed to stretch on.  It was hard not to fear as the time came and went when we expected Wendy to be done her surgery.  Finally after about 6 hours we saw Wendy being wheeled back down the hallway and past the waiting room windows into the ICU.  As she passed by one of the nurses accompanying her looked directly at me, smiled, and gave me a thumbs up signal.  My heart jumped for joy as I knew that she was telling me that the operation had gone well … she was alive. She was born again, given a new chance at life!  God’s love is amazing.  His mercy is more than we can ever deserve.

The following day, I was able to meet with the doctor on call for the ICU and the transplant specialist who did the transplant surgery.  They explained some of the issues that Wendy was facing.  I was told that because she was so sick when she received her transplant it would take longer for her to recover. The liver controls many body functions such as the blood clotting mechanism and immune system.  Wendy had experienced a lot of internal bleeding in many of her internal organs.  The doctors were particularly concerned that there may have been any damage to her brain?  Immediately after the transplant a cat scans showed massive bleeding on her brain.  They warned me that it would take a week or more before she would be brought out of her coma.  Only then would we be able to tell if her brain had suffered any permanent damage.  If it had, they warned … she may be a vegetable and spend the rest of her life requiring medical support to live.  I was told I needed to prepare for that possibility.  Her kidneys had completely shut down and her blood was being cleaned via a continuous hemo-dialysis machine.  Her pancreas had stopped producing insulin and she was now diabetic requiring intravenous insulin. In addition, her immune system had collapsed and she had contracted several infections including a bacterial infection of her blood and a yeast infection for which she was receiving three different antibiotics simultaneously (including Vancomycn the strongest available).  She was unable to breath on her own and required a ventilation machine.  She was being fed and provided fluids and electrolytes intravenously.  I counted 17 different tubes running into and out of her body.  She was also connected to all kinds of sensors (including heart rate, oxygen, and blood pressure) and she had a dedicated nurse monitoring her progress 24 hours a day in ICU.

For the first few days after her transplant we were only allowed in one at a time to see her.  She was completely unable to respond to our presence.  Still we could hold her hand and pray.  One by one our family and friends went in to see her.  We talked, prayed, and sang to her in the hopes she could hear us … even if only in her spirit.

I continued to get updates from the ICU doctors on a regular basis and a few days after the transplant one of the doctors called our family into a private room and began to explain Wendy’s status.  He went over all the things we already had heard … then he proceeded to explain that it was his opinion that she only had a 50% chance of survival at this point.  He also said he felt she would likely have brain damage even if she lived.  They had done a CAT scan that showed there had been a lot of bleeding on her brain which was usually an indication that some permanent damage was likely to have occurred.  That briefing left me feeling particularly anxious and discouraged.  After all we had been through it was hard to accept that God would allow Wendy to not fully recover.  It was clearly prayer time once again.

My mother volunteered to stay with Michael and Breanna at our home in Meadow Lake so they could continue with their school.  There was nothing left to do in Edmonton but pray and wait.  So, I drove them back to Meadow Lake and returned to Edmonton the next day.  The company I worked for was extremely understanding and helpful.  The owner’s daughter found me an apartment right across the street from the main entrance to the hospital and the company picked up the entire $1600 per month fee.  It was fully furnished and allowed me to do some of my own cooking and get the rest I needed all the while being only a few hundred feet from the hospital.  Again God was making His loving care and provision at our disposal.

When I returned to Edmonton, I met with the liver transplant coordinator.  She informed me that Wendy would require expensive anti-rejection drugs for the rest of her life to prevent rejection of the liver. She was put on a brand new anti-rejection drug protocol that combined one older drug (tacrolimus) and one experimental drug (sirolimus).  This combination was supposed to reduce side effects.  Wendy had developed anemia and required blood transfusions.  After release she would also require a drug called Eprex to stimulate blood cell development from her bone marrow.  These medications were very expensive and I was warned that the cost of medications during the first year could be as high as $7000 per month.  She asked me if I was prepared financially to cover the drug costs?  That was the least of my worries at that point as I was more concerned for Wendy’s full recovery and I would gladly pay any cost to keep her alive.  Fortunately, the company I worked for had a drug coverage plan that accepted 100% of the drug cost (where most cover only 50%).  God again was watching over us.  The coordinator also made me promise that I would ensure Wendy would regularly see a psychiatrist to ensure she received the counseling she would need so that nothing would ever put her life in jeopardy again.  That was a promise that I gladly agreed to.

As the first few days went by in the ICU, Wendy’s new liver finally started to show signs that it was responding positively to being in Wendy’s body.  Her liver enzymes were starting to slowly reduce, her blood was showing signs the clotting function was responding and internal bleeding had stopped.  Her infections were beginning to improve.  It was a slow process but there was reason to be optimistic.

However, the next few days Wendy experienced a setback.  I came in one morning early to find that Wendy was having a panic attack even while she was in a coma?  That seemed very strange?  She was in a coma, how could this happen?  The hospital psychiatrist was there when I arrived.  She asked me if Wendy had ever panic attacks before.  I said no she never had any panic attacks that I was aware of?  I would later learn that she had been having panic attacks that started shortly after being prescribed the anti-depressant medication by the doctor in Meadow Lake.  During the panic attacks Wendy’s heart rate and blood pressure would jump dramatically.  I was told this could be very dangerous for her in her fragile state.  So, the psychiatrist put Wendy on an anti-anxiety medication (called Haldol) intravenously which immediately stopped the attacks from occurring.  I couldn’t help but wonder was this a symptom that there had been some brain damage?  Fear started to creep in once again … it was again time to pray.

Fortunately, our prayer channels had remained in place and I could phone our church and relatives to get people praying for Wendy as needs arose.  I could literally feel the prayers of people ascending before God.  At times I could sense God’s peace that passes all understanding envelope me even though things looked discouraging.  I received letters from churches in far off locations from people I did not even know.  Pastors from different city churches in Edmonton somehow heard about Wendy and came in to pray for her.  I was very encouraged by the feeling of being upheld by the body of Christ.  Some day in eternity it will become apparent how much of a difference the prayers of the saints made to cause God to intervene in Wendy’s desperate situation.  For now I am convinced it made all the difference between life and death.  Did God not stop Wendy from taking the overdose … knowing that He would show His power in saving her at the last moment?  All I know is that God came through for us when we needed it the most.  She had her new liver …. Now, all we needed to get Wendy back to health!

Several more days passed by and Wendy had now been in the ICU for almost 10 days.  I went back to Meadow Lake and picked up our children to bring them for a visit to see their mom.  When we came back it was time to bring Wendy out of her induced coma.  One by one we went in to see her having been warned that her eyes looked pretty bad.  The failure of her liver had cause bleeding in her eyes and the whites were completely red with congealed blood.  We were ecstatic to find out that she recognized us.  That gave me hope that perhaps there was not serious brain damage.  We could tell she recognized us when she responded by opening her eyes wide as we entered the room and then squeezing our hands in response to our questions.  She was only allowed to have visitors for a very short period so that she would not get tired or agitated and start pulling out tubes.  We were told that was common with patients due to the fact that they are very uncomfortable when they come out of a coma.  Many family and friends came to see Wendy while she was in the ICU.  She still was using a breathing tube and was unable to speak.  However, she recognized all her visitors which continued to give hope that there was minimal brain damage.

Wendy remained in the ICU for 22 days after her transplant.  One morning about two weeks after her transplant I came to see her around 8am as I usually did.  Two nurses were standing talking as I approached the ICU room where Wendy was staying.  That morning they had given Wendy a clipboard to write on as she was still intubated with a breathing tube.  The clip board allowed her to communicate and was a good opportunity to understand more about the status of her brain.  I asked the nurses how she was doing.  There was a certain look of concern on their faces as one of them said … “She is writing some strange things.   She believes she left the hospital yesterday?”  I was a little concerned as I went in to see her.  I asked her how she was doing and she wrote on her clip board …”The boss of the hospital said I can leave today”.   She continued writing on her clipboard that she had also been to visit the home of the “boss of the hospital” and that he had two kids and lived across the street.  I was not sure whether to be concerned that these writings were a sign of brain damage, or whether her dreams were a sign of healthy brain activity?  She was writing (albeit barely legible) which showed she had hand eye coordination and she had an imagination.  Fortunately, in the days ahead her writings seemed to make more and more sense and her hand writing improved.  It seemed to me that she was going to be OK.

The time came for her to have her have the breathing tube removed.  She had developed an esophageal ulcer and her vocal cords were damaged.  She needed time to allow her throat to heal.  She was not allowed to drink for several days as there was a risk of getting water into her lungs and causing pneumonia.  She was still very weak and had to spend most of her time sleeping.  However, the nurses would wake her to move her around and have her sit up so she would not get a build up of fluid in her lungs.  She did not like this and often complained to me that the nurses would wake her up from her sleep.  I would try to show empathy to her … but then I would tell the nurses “Good job, thanks for all your care and attention to my wife”.

The doctors continued to do batteries of tests on Wendy while she remained in the ICU.  A colonoscopy discovered that she had developed several ulcers and was bleeding internally.  This was another result of the liver failure … so another medication was added to the list of 9 or 10 she was being administered.

March 9 th arrived and Wendy was to be moved from the ICU to the liver transplant ward.  She would be the first patient on the newly opened ward at the University Hospital.  I was amazed when she was the only one there for the first two days.  So, with two nurses she got very good attention.  Wendy’s vocal cords were starting to heal from the removal of the breathing tube.  So, I was able to start having conversations with her.  During her first day in the ward I happened to mention to her that while she was in the ICU she developed an allergy to the drug Heparin.  Heparin is used to prevent blood clots in patients who spend many days attached to IV tubing.  However, in a few cases people can develop an allergy to Heparin and it actually has the opposite effect.  Wendy had developed a blood clot in her lower right leg due to this allergy.  I was told that she could never again have Heparin in her life or it could cause a life threatening blood clot.  So Wendy was put on an alternative drug to prevent clotting.  God must have prompted me to mention this to Wendy that day as during that same night a new nurse came onto the ward and came in Wendy’s room that night to give her medications.  As she was about to give Wendy a needle, Wendy asked what it was.  The nurse replied “Oh it is a drug called Heparin”.  Wendy responded “My husband said I am not allowed to have this drug”.  The nurse looked puzzled and said  " I didn’t see anything in your records".  As Wendy was insistant,  she went back and took a look at Wendy’s charts (by now a three ring binder full of pages).  Moments later she came back in and said she was sorry … in the very front page of Wendy’s chart was a page that said “No Heparin, Allergy”.  I was amazed the next morning when I heard of that event.  God had prompted me to mention that detail to Wendy the day before, and He had also prompted Wendy to be awake during the middle of the night when the nurse came into her room!

Unfortunately, only five days after being put in the transplant ward Wendy developed pneumonia and had to be re-admitted to the ICU.  With her liver and body still adjusting to the transplant and now having major problems breathing, the doctors decided the ICU was the best place for her.  The following Sunday morning I was feeling a bit discouraged with the set-back.  I came to visit Wendy at the hospital before heading off to church.  When I entered the ICU I noticed the nurse was very concerned as she looked at Wendy’s monitors.  Wendy’s was sleeping at the time but her blood pressure had sky-rocketed to a dangerous level of 220/140.  At that level Wendy was at risk of having a stroke if her blood pressure could not be brought down.  The nurse seemed puzzled as to what was causing the spike in her blood pressure.  I decided there was nothing I could do but pray.  So, I went off to worship the church where some friends were regular attenders.  During the service I felt a very heavy heart for Wendy.  As the worship team sang one of my favorite songs “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us”, I felt the Holy Spirit comfort me that Wendy was going to be fine.  It was communion Sunday and I took the opportunity to go into the chapel to pray with our friends after taking communion.  We prayed for Wendy and asked God to heal her.   After we finished praying I knew in my heart that Wendy would be fine.  I rushed back to the hospital to see Wendy.  When I entered the ICU, Wendy was sitting up awake and alert.  Her blood pressure had dropped dramatically to 120/70 and was completely normal.  God had answered yet another prayer for Wendy.

Wendy continued in the ICU for another few days and steadily improved.  She was returned to the transplant ward after five days where her health continued to improve gradually.  She spent another three weeks in the hospital during which time she adjusted to her medications and healed from her ulcers.  Eventually she was allowed to go out on day trips to my apartment.  Finally on March 31^st six weeks after her liver transplant Wendy was discharged from the hospital.  She stayed with me at the apartment and over the next few weeks she continued to receive daily physiotherapy, rebuilding muscle she lost during her many weeks in bed and learning to walk again.

Finally in late April Wendy completed her rehabilitation and was allowed to return home to Meadow Lake. When she arrived she was greeted with a tree on our front lawn covered in yellow ribbons.  Many friends in Meadow Lake had written their thoughts of love and encouragement on ribbons and hung them on the large spruce tree in front of our house.  There were hundreds of ribbons decorating the tree.  Wendy was greatly encouraged by the love shown by so many.

It has been almost eleven years since Wendy received a second chance at life.  In the years since her liver transplant, Wendy has remained healthy and has not experienced any issues with her transplanted liver.  In fact, the doctors say her liver tests show completely normal functioning and  she has been called their star patient.  Shortly after her transplant Wendy was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and was given lithium to prevent extreme mood swings.  At present, she isn't needing an antidepressant medication, but has monthly blood tests  to help prevent any recurrence of depression plus monitor her liver enzymes, etc.   God has been able to use Wendy and her experience to help many women who also suffer from depression or forms of mental illness.  She has led support groups for women suffering from depression, shared her testimony numerous times and been able to help many through her witness to God’s grace and mercy.

When I look back today and remember how I felt so helpless and abandoned, I can now say with certainty that I am forever grateful God is a God of great love, showing mercy even when we don’t deserve it.  Wendy life is a testimony to the fact that He can rescue us from even the most desperate and darkest of circumstances.  In the end, we all need rescue from death and Wendy simply had the opportunity to have that happen twice.  All praise to God who conquered death and rescued us from the Kingdom of Darkness and transferred us to the Kingdom of His beloved Son.  Amen.

"The Nightmare" by Breanna Roste

Note:  My daughter Breanna just found this and gave it to me.  She wrote it when she was 13 years old, just after this all happened.  She wrote in the forward, "This book is dedicated to my loving mother Wendy Roste.

Chapter One:  The Nightmare Begins

     "Breanna Roste to the office please, Breanna Roste", the intercom blasted out.  I walked from the health room and proceeded to the office.  When I reached it the secretary said "Breanna your dad is coming to get you right away."
 "Why?"  I asked. 
"He didn't say."  As I came close to my locker an icy cold feeling came over me and I thought Mom!  She wasn't home this morning.  What happened to her?  Where is she"  I grabbed my coat and headed for the door waiting for my dads car to pull up.  Our vice-principal walked over to me and said "Your dad's coming to get you."
 "I know." I answered getting anxious.
 "Are you nervous?" He asked  
 "Yes," I replied
 "Don't be."  He told me.
     My dads car pulled up and I ran out to it.  "Where's mom?"  I asked.  With a tear in his eye he said "She's being flown to Saskatoon by air ambulance.  Last night she took half a bottle of Tylenol and tried to kill herself."  Tears streamed down my cheeks and I thought  Why?  Doesn't mom love me?
"Don't think badly of your mom Breanna.  She wasn't thinking straight."  He said sternly, but I continued to cry.
"When we get home you have to pack some clothes.  I don't know how long we'll be there."  We rolled into the garage and I climbed out of the car.  Going into my room I thought "God please don't let her die!  Mommy don't leave me!
     I scrambled around the room frantically trying to find clothes and a suitcase.  When I had finished, I put my things in the van and sat down at the piano.  Playing songs didn't seem to help so I sat on the couch.  I heard a plane overhead and knew it was mom flying to Saskatoon.  I waited for awhile with my brother when my dad came in and said "Let's pray for mom."  We sat down and prayed, asking God to be with her, then hopped into the van and were on our way.  On the way to Saskatoon my dad explained about how mom had been depressed and was on anti-depressants that he thinks made her have suicidal thoughts.  At Subway we made a quick stop to eat, but I stayed in the car.  Crying out I said "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" over and over.  When they came back I dried my tears and we headed out again.

Chapter 2:  Saskatoon

     The road was long and never-ending but we finally got there.  Right away we went to the hospital and tried to hunt down the room she was in.
"We have to be strong for mom okay you guys." my dad said
"Alright." we answered.
"Don't say anything hurtful and don't get mad at her." he said.  The trek to find her was a long process but we finally did it.  As I walked into the room there was mom.  She was lying in bed with all sorts of tubes around her.  My grandma was with her, holding her hand.
"Hi mom." I said hugging her, then dad and my brother said their hellos.  Mom had small bags under her eyes and seemed to be very cold.  A nurse came in and took her blood by pricking her finger and squeezing some out.  I closed my eyes from the sight and sat beside mom holding her hand.  My dad told me to leave and go to the waiting room so I walked over to my family.
     We watched the Olympics for awhile and then I decided to go back to my mom.  Coming in I said "I'm back mom."  She smiled and then a look of pain came over her face and she said "Hand me the bucket!"  I did so and she threw up red liquid.  I patted her back and she continued to throw up.  When she was done I sat down and started to read a magazine when she said "Are you missing school?"
"Yes" I answered
"You didn't have to come you know." she told me
"Yes I did mom."  I was wondering why she would say that
"Are you missing any tests?" she asked
"Ya, three.  One for French, Social and L.A." I replied
"Do you want me to help you study?" she asked
"Sure, but my books are in the van." I said
"Jenna's coming." I changed the subject
"She doesn't have to." Mom replied
"But she wants to come and see you." I said, getting angry that mom wouldn't want us to be there.  Another nurse came in to take her blood, so I left until she was done.  God I thought, please let her be okay.
     I went back in to find my dad there so I sat down and said "I love you mom."
"Why would you want to end your life?" my dad asked her.  After awhile she said "Because I'm a boring person."
"That's not true." I cut in
"It isn't." my dad agreed "That's a lie you've been telling yourself."
"I just can't believe I did this to myself."  Mom said shaking her head.  The doctors came in and told me to leave so I walked outside and stood with my brother.  It seemed like hours that we stood there. 
"This is torture!" I said "We don't even know what's happening."  When we were allowed to go back in our grandparents were there so we went for supper.  In the hospital cafeteria we grabbed some food and then went back up to see her.  She was being moved to a new room in the observation unit so we all tagged behind her stretcher.

Chapter 3:  The Day of Doom

     Once in the room we had to wait for them to settle her in, then saw her once more before we headed to my grandma's apartment.  She had just lost her husband the month before so this was really hard on her.  To keep my mind off things I watched a movie but as soon as it was over, I remembered so I went to sleep.  Later on I expected my sister to crawl into bed but she never came and I awoke to people talking.  My sister was there and she had not come to bed  because she stayed at the hospital with my mom but couldn't sleep because of all the noise.  We had a hearty breakfast and drove back to the hospital to find mom asleep.  I sat down and held her hand, caressing her forehead light enough not to wake her because she looked so peaceful.  My sister sat down beside me and said "Hi"
|Shhhh. Mom's asleep." I told her
"Okay, I'll just pray for her." she said.  A nurse walked in to take moms blood again and she awoke, yawning and stretching.
"I just need your finger." the nurse told her
"I'm so tired" Mom said
"That's okay." I told her
"I've never laid in bed this long before." she said "I should do something."
"No mom! You need to sleep." I said sternly
"This is probably so boring for you." she said
"Mom, I came here by choice, not because I had to. Of course I'm not bored." I said "Now you sleep and get better."  She closed her eyes and was asleep almost immediately.  As the day went on I could see how she progressively got worse and the doctors said if she got too bad they would send her to Edmonton for a possible liver transplant.
"I don't want to go to Edmonton" Mom said with a hint of fear in her voice.  I left for lunch and came back to my sister wailing, being held by the nurse saying "I just can't imagine life without you mom."  I went over to her and tried to calm her down and said
"You have to be strong for mom."
Later the doctors came in and said "We have to take some tests on you.  Now hold up your hands in the air."  She slowly held her hands up shaking wildly.
"Mrs. Roste do you have any children?" they asked
"Yes" she replied
"How many?"
"Three"
"How old are they?"  She thought for awhile and then said "Thirteen....." then couldn't remember anymore.  "Oh Mommy" I thought.  My sister started to cry but mom just laid there totally oblivious to what was happening.  The doctors told us they wanted to send her to Edmonton before her liver failed too much.  I started to cry and flung myself into my sisters arms whispering "I don't want to loose my mommy.'  Then I started crying uncontrollably "I know."  She was weeping as well.  We stood there trying to be strong for mom but it was so hard.

Chapter 4:  The Road to Edmonton

Some ladies from our church came to see her and she said exactly what she had said to everyone else.
"You didn't have to come."
"We wanted to."  They told her "We love you."  She looked up at them and said "I'll be fine."  I left her and said "I'll be right back mom."  Going out of the room I went into the bathroom and collapsed into a heap saying, "God please don't take away my mom."  I went back because I had promised mom.  Around 5:00 pm the liver transplant coordinator for Saskatchewan came to talk with our family.  Taking us into a separate room she told us about the possibility for a liver transplant for mom.
     "The success rate is about 95%." she said making it sound hopeful.  "She'll be at the top of the list because by the time she needs a liver she'll be the sickest person in Canada."  Those words hit me like a sledge hammer.   Sickest person in Canada, a whole country.  Oh my God! That really freaked me out but when she had finished, my dad suggested that we pray.  By then my brother, sister, dad, grandparents, and I were all crying hard and we said a few prayers then left the room to tell others what was happening.  She was going to go to Edmonton tonight so we had to get a move on it if we wanted to get there when she got there because it was a six hour drive.  We all went back to the room and told mom we'd see her in Edmonton but my sister was the boldest.
"No matter what happens..."  She said "there can only be a good outcome.  Either you come home with us which is what we want, or you'll go to heaven."  I stood there shocked that she would actually say that to her, but those words got no reaction, it was like she didn't even know that she might die.
     It took forever for us to leave and my dad was going to go on the plane with mom so we had to ride with one of the ladies from our church.  It was 7:00 pm and we started to leave when we got a phone call saying that the plane wasn't there so we should just go back to the hospital.  About three blocks away, we got another phone call saying the plane had arrived so we could leave now.  Frustrated, we turned around and left the city after a bite to eat.  Along the way I tried to sleep but my head was spinning and I was only worried about mom.  Only three hours from our destination my dad called
"Hi" he said  "Guess what?  They didn't let me on the plane."
"What!  Why not?"  I asked shocked
"They said they've never let anyone on the plane before and whoever told me I could go on didn't know what they were saying."  he replied
"That's really stupid.  They said you could go."  I said angrily
"Well I wasn't going to argue, so I'm going to have to get a ride up there."
"Alright.  Bye."  I said and hung up the phone.  I told everyone what had happened and they were as confused and angry as I was, but we had to live with it. 

Chapter 5:  Waiting

     When we arrived we went to the hospital right away.  I stepped out of the vehicle and a massive building was before me and I walked into the emergency room.  We went to the front desk to see if she had arrived and to our surprise she hadn't .  There was a Tim Hortons across the street so we went to get some food.  I didn't eat anything but just looked out the window and waited for the ambulance carrying mom to arrive.  About an hour later we went back to the ER but she still hadn't arrived and we were getting nervous.  A woman from the front desk came over to us and said that the plane had just left Saskatoon so we decided to get some rest.  Since my sister was going to university we went to her room and tried to sleep for four people and two single beds don't work well together.  We made do but at 6:00 am they phoned to say that she was there and so were our cousins.  I was glad to hear the news that she was alright so far but still a little worried we got over to the hospital as fast as we could.  We found her in a room in the Intensive Care Unit so we went in to see her, careful to keep everything clean and wash our hands.  As I walked in the room I saw her laying there with tubes and machines all around her.  Her eyelids were swollen and purple, her whole body was bloated from the medicine and she looked like a totally different person.  Afraid to step closer I stopped and put my head down.  My sister started to pray and I reached out and touched my mom every so softly, afraid to wake her.  I closed my eyes and pictured how she used to look and pretended that this had never happened.  "I love you mom."  I said, but she didn't respond.  Somewhere deep down I knew she heard me.
     After a few moments with her, I went into a smaller room that had been reserved for our family.  Inside was my father, sister, the pastor from our church and another pastor from Edmonton.  They were talking and I decided to stay in the room for awhile.  After a time I wanted to sleep and wait for another day to come.

Chapter 6:  Panic Room

     The next day proved to be one of the down days for the most part.  All we did was sit in a room and wait.  At one point a small Chinese woman poked her head through
the door and said  "Hello, I'm just going to ask a few questions regarding the patient.  I would only like the family in the room please."  My cousins walked out and the woman sat down.  She began to ask me questions since I was the only family member in the room when my dad, brother, and sister walked in.  The woman reintroduced herself and continued with questions like "Has she ever been depressed before?"  or "Has she ever tried to kill herself before?" and we answered as honestly as we possibly could.  The lady was trying to decide if mom should get a liver because they felt that if she got one and then killed herself, it would have been a waste.  I understood where they were coming from but I still wanted mom to get a liver.  Another lady walked in saying
"Hi.  I'm the liver transplant coordinator for Alberta.  I'm just going to give you some background information on liver transplants and some of the things I say you won't want to hear but that's okay."  We nodded, nervous about what she would say.  "Liver transplants..." she began "are not that common but we do about 90 per year.  The success rate is about 95% but at the stage your mom is right now I'd say it would be about 80%.  We haven't had a liver donor now for about six weeks but we aren't even sure that we'll put her on the list yet because there is still a chance for her liver to turn around."  She drawled on "Liver transplants have some complications to them.  Getting her through the operation will be no problem but after it she'll have an 80% chance of infection and her immune system will be suppressed, so she'll have a harder time getting over them.  There's about a 5% chance of complications with the small nerves that get reconnected in the liver and about 17% chance of something happening to
                ."  She said and as I listened the news got worse.  It felt as though someone had put a weight on my chest and I felt heavy and hot.  My hands reached for my face and I fought back tears that threatened to come pouring out with every word the woman said.  She kept on talking but I wasn't listening, overwhelmed I wanted to stand up and scream, "Shut up!  I don't want to hear anymore!"  I zoned out and sat there trying to take in the news that had been given to me    ".... of course, she'll have to take medication for the rest of her life and they'll decrease over time how much she has to take but they will be expensive.  Costs after the surgery will be around $5,000-$6,000 a month.  I know that's a lot of money and most people can't afford that but I think some of it is covered by your health plan if you have one.  We don't even know if we'll put her on the list yet so you don't have to worry about that right now.  And if we put her on the list you are going to have to make the decision for her.  You're going to decide if she get the liver or not and we want to know if she'll be angry that she's still alive or if she'll be glad and take responsibility for this." she said.
"Of course she'll be glad."  my dad said "it wasn't her to do something like this and she'll be happy to be alive still.  I know she would take responsibility for this because she'd want it for her kids and her family." 
"Alright," she said "We'll go decide if she should be on the list."  And with that she left.

Chapter 7:  The Call

"Let's pray for mom now."  My dad suggested and we began to pray when the woman came back and said
"We've decided to put her on the list."  She left again and we continued to pray that she would get a liver.  I wanted her own liver to turn around because even through a liver transplant would give her back to us it sounded pretty risky and life changing.  We left the small room and went our to meet my mom's family and dad told them what was happening.  I didn't want to hear it again so I sat with my baby cousin and thought "He's so lucky.  He doesn't have to deal with any of this.  All he has to do is eat and sleep."  And at that moment I wanted to be him.  When my dad finished, everyone hugged us.
"You're so strong."  my uncle whispered in my ear "You're gonna get through this."
"Thanks," I said.  Still feeling faint I said "I need to leave.  I can't stay at the hospital.  I need to think."
"You can come to my apartment." my cousin Kristy told me, "I'll drive you there."  We left and drove to her apartment and when we arrived I looked up at the 14 story building.  Maureen Manor it was called and as I walked inside, I was enveloped by the smell of shampoo.  We went up to the 12th floor and this time I smelled smoke.  I held my breath as she tried to open the door and went inside.  I sat down breathing heavily and tried to calm myself down by drinking a glass of water.  The next few hours were fun and made it easy to forget what had happened.  We were watching a movie when the phone rang
"Hello."  my auntie said "Really?  Oh my gosh!  Bre."  Handing me the phone she said "It's your dad.  They found a liver."  Those words were the greatest I had ever heard in my life.  I picked up the phone
"Hi dad."  I said trying to hold in my joy
"Did you hear?  Mom's gonna get a liver."  He said and I could tell he had been crying "They're going to do the operation at 2:00 am because they want the liver to be as fresh as possible."
"That's so great!" I said.  I hung up the phone and started jumping around the room with my brother.  We decide to sleep and then go to the hospital for the operation so I phoned my friend and told her what happened.  After about an hour I fell asleep and when I awoke we went to the hospital.  Up in the waiting room my whole family was waiting and praying so I came in and sat down.  After awhile we saw the doctors wheeling her into the surgery room down the hall and we went out to watch.  I didn't want to stay the whole eight hours so I asked if we could leave. 

Chapter 8:  Going Home

Over the next few weeks we went in to see her every day as she got better and better.  Her eyes began to clear up and she started to respond.  As soon as it had begun we had to leave but it was far from over.  We went in one last time to see her and I said
"Hi mom, I love you."  She opened her eyes and I took a step back because there were blood red.  We said goodbye and left on the long trip home.  My grandma would be staying with us so as soon as we got home my dad turned around and went back.  The next few weeks were a blur.  I just went to school, ate, slept and went to Edmonton on weekends.  My dad would phone us all the time and fill us in on how mom was doing and she seemed pretty good.  One night when I was taking a bath my grandma gave me the phone
"Hi"  I heard a voice say
"Mom?"

To be continued.....

The Birthday I can't remember

Ten years ago today, I had more people visit me for my birthday than any previous.  Lots of family and friends sang happy birthday.  A huge birthday card was made for me, with dozens and dozens of people who signed it, and expressed their deep love for me.  Many more prayed for me that day.  But I had no idea.  It was my 46th birthday, and I was in a coma in the intensive care at the U of A hospital in Edmonton.  Later, I was told the whites of my eyes were flaming red, my body terribly swollen, and I was unrecognizable.  Yet here I am ten years later, alive and healthy.  An extra special blessing is that I'm not in a wheel chair, as I was told I could be in ten years time. 

On a happier note, birthdays are an exciting time to express love for others.  Early on in our marriage, I had heard an aunt share an idea that I gladly adopted for our family, and it gave us many joyful memories over the years.  Early in the morning, I'd prepare a special breakfast for the person celebrating a birthday.  It was usually Norwegian pancakes, or "roll ups" as we referred to them.  They could be fixed with butter and brown sugar, fruit sauce with whipped cream, or whatever way the birthday person loved them.  Often that would be accompanied with bacon, ham, fruit, smoothie, coffee, or whatever, depending on their age of course.  What I didn't realize was that over the years Ed and I would greatly benefit from these breakfasts!  It turned out that we'd get special breakfasts not only for our birthdays, but also our anniversaries, Mothers and Fathers Day!  It was a way to make each person feel very special, and I don't mind anyone borrowing the idea!

Birthdays were a big deal at our house, as you can see by the loaves and fishes story I posted earlier about Ed's over the top birthday celebration.  On his 40th birthday, it was a little tamed down, but I had 40 wooden crows put out by the mill he managed, as well as a surprise supper with many guests and fireworks later.  I remember my 40th well, sitting by Ed's bedside while he agonized with the pain of kidney stones.  When it was all said and done, I mentioned that he could have timed it a little better, as though he had a choice!

Every year when our kids were growing, I would try to determine what would be a suitable type of cake or theme for them.  We made cakes shaped like a train, car, merry go round, doll, butterfly, soccer ball, guitar and the list could go on and on.  It was fun.  We had many different themes. One year, Jenna's birthday was a fashion show, complete with dresses, hats, make-up and jewelry.  It was lots of fun to watch, while several Moms cheered and clapped.

That particular birthday, one of the girls who was invited had been especially mean to others in the school, and Jenna was quite afraid of her.  As we had talked prior to her birthday, Jenna decided to invite her rather than exclude just one of the girls in her class.  This girl was from a broken home, and likely was used to seeing alot of violence.  At Jenna's party, this girl remarked to me that her birthday was a week later, but her Mom couldn't afford a party for her.  My heart went out to her, so I made a special cake for her, complete with presents and a few others from her class, and we showed up on her door step on the appropriate day.  It was so much fun to see her giggle and blow out her candles on the door step while we sang the birthday song to her.  She did end up celebrating her birthday after all and we were all invited in to have fun.

Another time at our home, Ed and I dressed up as waiter and waitress in a fancy restaurant, had the table set with china and crystal, and special menus made.  This was a dress up affair, so the young girls were all dolled up ahead of time.  Ed was a master mind at making special treasure hunts.  Once, after a half hour of searching everywhere imaginable including the chicken coop, the rock pile way out in the field, the base ball diamond, finally the girls found the treasure!  It was a small empty box with a picture of Ed cuddling Jenna as a baby!  Actually, they just had to look up to find a hanging bag laden with all kinds of treasures, mostly sweets!

Paint ball wars, games, floor hockey, and many other adventures were a part of Michael's birthdays.   Breanna's birthdays during the summer provided her friends fun times at the lake, tubing and swimming.  We often tried to celebrate before school was out for the summer holidays, otherwise many of her friends would be away on holidays.  Slip and slides were always a great hit for everyone.

The last birthday Jenna spent at home before she left for England, we planned a special event.  It was an East Indian feast, complete with music and food.  Our family, along with East Indian friends dressed up in the traditional saris, moondos and lungis.  When each of the guests arrived, it was fun for Jenna to put sandle wood paste on their forehead.  It was even more fun to watch the bewildered expressions of each guest that we caught on video! 

During the two years that I catered for seniors and planned activities for them, I had birthday celebrations on Fridays.  The one hundred plus seniors lived in four buildings, so there was a birthday of the month which rotated between the buildings.  Special entertainers would delight the seniors for the parties.  Musical families were some of the favorites, choirs and instrumentals provided joy as well.  It was a good chance for young budding musicians to practise being in front of others, prior to making their appearances at the local music festival. 

Once, I was surprised to find out that the birthday party I organized was the first ever experienced by that person.  That was the case with Suzanne.  She had an unbelievably difficult life.  Her description brought me to tears.  As a young child, she was told by her Mother and Grandmother that they both hated her.  Her Mother even brought men home who would sexually abuse her.  She never remembers getting a present, either for Christmas or for her birthday.  Her first child was born when she was just twelve.  Her next baby was beaten and had thirteen broken bones by her boyfriend, and they both ended up in jail.  Altogether, she had five babies taken away at birth.  She ended up living on the street, and both arms had many scars where she'd tried to take her life.  Finally there was hope in her life when a Christian lady picked her up off the street, showed her love, and brought her into her home.  She became a believer, but she still had a long way to go in her life.  Her desire was to go to Bible School in Vancouver, and have counselling to help her further heal the many emotional scars she carried.  So on her 25th birthday I threw a surprise party, invited all the ladies at church, and gave her money for Bible School.  We later drove her to Vancouver to start school.  It is amazing what God can do, even in a life so broken and full of despair.

Following my transplant, I was called by a young woman who was desperate.  She was afraid of being alone, afraid of what she might do.  I offered to pick her and her children up, and brought them to my house.  While her kids played, we talked.  She had been suffering for a decade with depression, and it was worsening.  She had been planning on taking her life that day, and it was her 30th birthday.  The wheels started turning in my mind.  I asked her if we could go for a drive with her kids, so off we went.  After asking permission to take her kids into a store, we went in and they picked out some presents for their Mom, and I found a nice birthday cake for her.  We went back home and celebrated her life, and I expressed how thankful I was that she had called me.   Finally she said she felt OK to go home, and we kept in touch.

Birthdays are a reminder of the day each of us was brought into this world.  It reminds us that we have a Creator who loves each of us and has a good purpose and plan for us.  "Your hands have made me and fashioned me" Ps 119:73 and "For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.  In those days when your pray, I will listen.  If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me." Jeremiah 29:11-13   These are good promises from the Lord, and I look forward to as many birthdays as the Lord wills me to have.   

The miracle of a new liver and a new chance at life! (Jenna)

February 16^th, 2002

On Saturday our family had to meet with the social worker, and I think each of us kids had to meet individually with her. She asked us all kinds of questions about Mom. I felt like I was pleading for Mom’s life, trying to convince her of Mom’s character, to show her that she deserved a second chance at life. It all felt so surreal.

The decision came an hour later. Mom was on the transplant list. Praise God. Apparently our pleading for her life had worked. She was at the highest priority level possible… a 4F. They told us that even at this priority level, it would be an average wait time of two weeks to find a liver that would match her properly by blood type, weight and sex. The problem was, she didn’t have that long to wait. They would only give her 48 hours on the transplant list before they would take her off because she would likely have too much brain damage after that.

Dad and I went back to my dorm room to sleep. We felt we had done all we could do and needed rest for whatever lay ahead. We talked a bit, prayed a bit, and were both just about to go to sleep when the phone rang. It was Pastor Tom. He was at the hospital and had just gotten word that there was a liver for her! A match! Unbelievable! It had only been 4 hours since she got on the transplant list. We were overwhelmed with the knowledge of God’s faithfulness and love.

I opened my Bible, and my eyes fixed on a passage in Isaiah 54:7-8. I could hardly believe my eyes. It read…

“‘For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you,’ says the Lord your Redeemer.”

I felt in my heart that this was a promise for Mom from God. It had felt like God had abandoned her for a while, but He would have compassion on her. I felt a sense of peace that no matter what happened, God would have compassion on her, and I had hope that either she would be restored to life or I would see her in heaven someday. We thanked God, again overwhelmed by His goodness, and after making a few calls, prepared to sleep. The surgery wouldn’t start for another 6-8 hours or more because the liver had to be carefully removed from the donor and flown to Edmonton from Montreal. We wanted to be ready for an all-night prayer vigil.

After a peaceful sleep for the first time in days, our family gathered in the waiting room of the ICU. I think we basically took over the entire room! We prayed and prayed. Even with the hope of the liver transplant, there was only a 50% chance that it would work at this point because she was so sick. Still so many hurdles. Even if it worked and she woke up, she might be left in a vegetative state forever.

The surgery took 12 hours. Sometime in the morning, Mom was wheeled down the hallway in her bed and returned to her room in ICU. We breathed a collective sigh of relief. The surgery was over. She had made it through. Now we again just had to wait and pray.

At one point, I remember walking with Dad somewhere down the halls of the hospital and telling him that if Mom didn’t make it, I’d quit school and come home and take care of him and Michael and Breanna. He adamantly refused saying that I had to keep going, had to keep living my life, that God would take care of all of us. I couldn’t believe the pillar of strength that Dad was for me and so many others, when he was the one who was suffering the most of all.

We are so thankful for many things…

·      Thankful that Mom came back to town instead of camping out in the van in a deserted farmyard.

·      Thankful that she told Dad the truth.

·      Thankful for the good medical system.

·      Thankful for the doctor in Saskatoon who transferred her to Edmonton.

·      Thankful for the team in Edmonton who believed in her enough to put her on the transplant list.

·      Thankful for the support from family and friends the world over.

·      Thankful for the prayers of hundreds or thousands of people.

·      Thankful that we live in this time where transplantation is a possibility.

·      Thankful for that woman and her family from Eastern Canada who decided to donate her organs, which gave Mom another chance at life.

·      Thankful for the people of Meadow Lake Alliance who had a 24-hour prayer vigil for Mom.

·      Thankful to God for His love, care, faithfulness, provision, kindness, compassion. All of this is because of God’s goodness. He is good. His love is unfailing and never-ending. May He always be glorified because of this.