France, not Rome

Today

Today I learned love has no bound,
it has no end and lacks some sounds.
From strangers with a foreign tongue,
To the determined heart of my only one.

When trials face us great or small
We find great ones who won't let us fall
My thanks is all I can send in return
To those hearts in whom Christ's love doth burn.

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Today I live, because how far we have came as human kind. Modern medicine is why I am still alive. Many have asked about my experience so I want to capture it while I'm still in that moment.

Lucky for me it started with the most wonderful day I believe I've had with my little family. Complete with tickle wars and dancing princesses, but most of all, smiles bigger than the moon. The next fateful day seemed like all the rest, where I had a job to do and a long trip to get there. I calculated it out, Dynelle could drive up to Vernal, turn around and make it back to St. George before I would land in Rome. Three legs in the trip. First to LA, then to France, then my still awaiting arrival in Rome. France was as far as I made it.

On the airplane I worked for 2.5 hrs straight getting ready for an upcoming conference like I always do. Anxiously trying to occupy my time well enough that the trip goes much faster. Just before I had finished working they had brought around the dinner for the flight. I don't think it would have mattered what I ate. But apparently I chose my "Last Supper" to be shepards pie. It was extremely good. My favorite part was the small beans they had for a side with small slices of salmon on top, scrumptious!!!

Within the hour though, without more work to do, without the strength to keep my eyes open I tried to dose off. Though it never happened. My stomach just hurt. I've had stomachs ulcers in the past and instantly blamed my pain upon that. Because for lunch I had a taco/tortilla soul with a lot of tomatoes as well as some soda. (both of which have caused me problems before). And likewise I had been stressed about some upcoming deadlines. Therefore it fit perfectly as the culprit. I stood up to walk it off, calm myself down, and hopefully get some sleep afterwards. Trying to recall now I believe I made three trips back and forth in my cabin area before I realized my food was not going to stay down. Scooting past two mothers trying to keep their children asleep (sacrificing their own precious dreams for those other souls on the plane deep into theirs). I reached the bathroom just soon enough to open the door and miss half of the sink. It followed with three more that landed correctly. Problem was the sink was now plugged.

Trying to gain my composure I began to clean up the mess I made. Trying to make sense of it all. Why had I thrown up? It wasn't food poisoning. I've had that! It wasn't the stomach flu. I've been there! My only solution was my ulcer hurt that bad the muscles spasmed everything out.

Once my mess was cleaned and my new hope was found in the fact my empty stomach shouldn't hurt anymore. So hoping for my now well deserved sleep I went back to my seat only to find my pain worse than ever. Not a moment my eyes were closed that I lost my consciousness.

I set out with a resolve to find someone who might help. I found an entire crew, speaking little English trying to help where they could. I was offered water, a coke, aspirin (of sorts) alkaselcer (of sorts), offered tea and every type of pill they could find. Struggling with the language even to identify what was wrong with me.

I proceeded to continue my cycle of wandering front to back, making more stops to the bathroom. Emptying out my stomach, wishing my ulcer would stop hurting, blaming myself, because as I continue to stress about the fact that I hurt so badly my ulcer inflames.

I finally found my safe haven. Though it was not without pain I found if I changed positions every 5-10 minutes or so I could try to catch a glimpse of the sleep I so desperately needed. I believe the longest sleep I actually got was when the airline crew allowed me to curl up in a ball next to the rear exit door. I slept about 2 minutes I think.

The rest of the flight was a blur. 6 hours out of the 10.5 hour flight were completely miserable. But as fate has it, all things pass and we landed. The flight crew had already called ahead to the airport, pushed my flight out 2 hrs to Rome so I had more than 1.5 hrs layover and could make it to the airport medical center in between.

I was greeted off the plane by a wheelchair pushed by a fellow who was much smaller than he should have been to push me. Many times through what I would have measured as 1.5 mile wheelchair ride did I find my French helper struggling to continue onward. Bless his soul because every bump seemed to hurt me more and more so he went far out of his level of comfort to ensure my trip was pain free.

Finally we arrived, I couldn't take you back through the hallways of that airport if you drew me a map. I met an English speaking doctor which I was ever so grateful for that I was able to explain my situation to. He had me lay down and began to examine me. He began just as I indicated with my stomach. I knew instantly as he pushed on my stomach and there was no pain, it was definitely my appendix. His words only barely preceded mine saying it wasn't an ulcer. He moved down my stomach. The pain increased... He move just to my right of the belly button and pushed. I swear my stomach almost collapsed. I asked "appendix?". His reply with what I could see of some pain in his eye he confirmed my new found suspicion.

The confirmation I found was a common practice because I grew to hate it. It was to push on the left side of my intestines where there wasn't any pain then release very quickly and watch me wince in pain. This was every doctors last check that always confirmed their suspicion.

My options were as follows, catch my airplane, hope my appendix hadn't ruptured already. Get to a hospital there, suffer through another 2 hr flight. Or he would give me a note to stay in France. I took the latter. He then gave me the option of an American hospital where they may or may not speak English that was 45 minutes away or a French hospital 8 miles away. Again I took the latter.

Back at the front desk, now left to my own two feet I received a French piece of paper that apparently had an address on it. I then proceeded to walk two doorway entrances down to catch a cab. I went through 4 cabs as my only method of payment was an Amercan credit card. And when I finally found one I am pretty sure he ha no clue where this hospital was. Again my suspicion was confirmed when the first words he spoke to me in English was "you see hospitol?". Three phone calls later we corrected our direction and I came to an Urgencies entrance where he dropped me off, me dragging my bags through the entrance.

Inside I said "English" and handed them the paper from the doctor at the airport. I then sat down and let them sort it out. It was sitting there then, finally with a moment where I just had to wait, when I realized I had no clue where I was. I had no clue how I was going to tell Dynelle I wasn't in Rome. And I had no clue how long I would be stuck in this predicament.

It wasn't a long wait before they brought me in. They got my passport information to supposedly track me (which apparently wasn't any help) and the next task I was given was to go "pss pss for test" :) this was the only way the nurse could explain a Urine analysis. Still dragging my own bags I followed procedure and waited another 15 minutes until they finally layed me down on a bed. With a slight incline to my back the pressure on my appendix was lessened and I finally found those dreams that had long escaped me. This was good because it would be 2 hrs before the results were back. I don't think I slept the whole time because it was broken up by two rounds of blood tests and a CT scan.

The CT scan was a little entertaining because no one spoke any English. Although what I found later was they needed my height and weight. Instead what they asked me for things like "Hate?" or "Wade?". It finally sank in when one girl stood upright and asked "Fat" with a pose like Santa clause that I told them 230 pounds. Unfortunately for them, they needed kilograms. And asked me if I knew... I'm pretty sure they guessed when they put me in... Same applied for my height needing to be in meters instead of feet.

Upon returning to the first room and recapturing my long lost sleep I finally was awoken and told I did in fact have Apendicitus and would be operated on that night or in the morning. I proceeded to find out what time it was. It was an hour after I should have arrived in Rome and I knew Dynelle would be rightfully worried about me. Between the nurses downstairs and getting moved upstairs to my hospital room I found it very hard to convince them to give me a phone call. I kept thinking isn't everyone entitled to a phone call, even on their way to jail?

They finally found a nurse who understood me well enough and had enough authority to allow for one phone call to the United States. Unfortunately that phone call resulted in an answering machine. This is where I tried in my semi-conscious/delirious state to convince my loving/worrying wife that I was fine and in a hospital somewhere in France, about to have surgery on my appendix. I found out later I didn't succeed in being convincing....

Left alone, and actually not even sure they called the right phone number because they handed me the phone right when the beep sounded, I awaited the verdict from the doctor hoping they were not going to wait until morning. It came, just as I had been praying for. Down through hallways with pictures from Monet, Picasso, and many other renaissance painters I arrived under a 6' diameter light and a huge crowd of happy English attempting nurses and Doctors. One nurse spoke well enough to indicate while they operated on me they all would speak poor English together (I hoped this didn't mean when asking for the tools they needed).

As they prepped me, moved me to the operating table and continued to put me under my thoughts from the whole situation left me with uncertainty. In a foreign land, with a historically deadly illness, I found my last fleeting moments of conscience praying my family would be watched out for if I were not to wake up...

It was 11 when I awoke again. Only enough to see a smile from one of the nurses, glance at the clock and drift away. 11:30 was the same, only they began to move me back to my bed.

Trying to recollect now, the timing of the night has lost me, but I do know that my one true love, my significant other, my everything had gone through the ends of the earth to find where I lay. And after hours of effort reached me by telephone to give me hope again that I wasn't alone. Anymore!

My beautiful wife! My angel! That girl always has and always will be there for me. Of all the acts of kindness in the world, no one person has more love in their heart than Dynelle, not counting celestial beings :) of coarse, but when she is one of those, there will still be no comparison.

Approximately 5,000 miles apart, her love stretched beyond every barrier there is in the world, and found me, through language, ocean, airlines, and even country borders . Her first instinct was to get ahold of missionaries to give me a blessing. Notify my boss I wouldn't be training the 25 students in Rome and notify our family to reach out with their prayers.

Im amazed at how everyone reacted! Thanks!!! Thank you for wanting to go the ends of the earth to physically find me. Thank you for the support you were to Dynelle, physically and emotionally. Thank you for your prayers on my behalf. While some might find fault and think there should be a way to prevent this kind of situation. I found comfort with the reaction of Dynelle. Not just because she is my wife but because she is my soulmate. She stayed where she was to take care of my precious girls and loved me from where she was at, knowing it would be ok in the end. How hard that must have been to stand idly by. Sacrificing....

I think I found a new hope in life. With all the trash in the world that our media portrays there is more good in the hearts of those around. Then I had ever seen. I used to teach a principle called "Social Loafing" to get my class to participate. Social loafing is when in any situation the more people around the less likely any one of them is to do anything. I found social loving to be a greater term that describes Gods children. With compassion and the light of Christ in everyone most all of Gods children can be watched out for.

Thank you Lord, for saving my life today!