It's been two weeks since Jenny's funeral. I meant to update the blog more often. I am a week behind! When we were all together as a family in Utah I it was wonderful. We spent a lot of time together which helped us. I know a lot of you have asked after my mom and Ernie and the girls. Since coming home, I think they are all about as good as can be expected. It's hard to go from caring for someone 24 hours a day to start back at a job and real life. All I can say about that is the Lord is watching over us and helping us cope.
I wanted to share some more of her writings with you. She amazes me still with her optimistic outlook and her happy take on life as well as her faith. I feel like if I didn't share these things with others I would be doing a great disservice. I hope you read her words and bring something of joy and peace away with you. I know many of you have donated a lot of your money, time and prayers and my family thanks you whole-heartedly.
I feel so blessed to have known her. I love her more everyday and miss her so much that I can taste it. My heart aches to see her and talk to her but I know she's not far. I feel her all around me. Sometimes when I make jokes in my mind I briefly think, "Oh, I gotta tell Jen that one," and then I remember she's not physically around to do that. However, I know she is hearing them and we laugh together...that's what we did a lot together, laugh. I still laugh and that, oddly enough, comforts me. I think my family feels the same. If Jen had one thing, it was a sense of humor.
The following e-mail was sent out July 6, 2006 and was entitled "Great MRI and 4th of July."
It isn’t that I haven’t had a lot to write about, but I’ve had so little time to actually sit down and write that I haven’t had a chance. Last week was my second MRI since radiation treatments. I was a little bit anxious about what the results might be, but, overall, felt peace about whatever might happen. I haven’t been reading as much in the Book of Mormon as I like. If I ever slowed down long enough to read anything I was pretty much asleep in a few minutes, but I tried to read as much as I could. I read Ether 12 a lot and I got a lot out of the following verses: “27: And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them,” and v. 29: O Lord, they righteous will be done, for I know that thou workest unto the children of men according to their faith;” I prayed for a long time for the spirit of healing to be upon my body and also prayed for the faith to allow myself to be healed, but I also understand the the Lord gives and the Lord taketh away. I long for the opportunity to see my children grow up, but I also understand that the Lord has us in mind when He gives us our struggles. Hugh B. Brown gave a talk in the 1960’s at BYU called “God is the Gardener” which I keep in the desk drawer next to my PC. He talked about an experience he had just after he had bought a farm in Canada. There was an overgrown tree on the farm and he went out to prune it. As he cut away the tangled and sick branches, he imagined what the tree would be saying if it could talk, “Why are you doing this to me? I was doing just fine until you came along and started to cut and prune my branches,” to which Elder Brown answered quietly, “I’m the gardner here, I know what’s best for you.” Years later when he was in the military he came up for promotion and was denied it based on the fact that he was Mormon. He felt angry with the Lord and felt himself asking, “Lord, why are you doing this to me? I’ve been faithful and true to your commandments,” to which he felt the Lord answered, “I am the gardener here, I know what’s best for you.” Whenever I get discouraged or sad, I think of that line “God is the gardener” and I am comforted.
The MRI went a lot better the second time. I had it at the Huntsman Cancer Center instead of the University of Utah. It made a really big difference. At the U I had to change into a gown in the bathroom and put my clothes into a garbage bag. At the Hunstman center they showed me into a dressing room where I had my own locker. The techs were a lot nicer, especially considering it had been a long and busy day by the time they got to me. I didn’t get a sedative because of some mix-up so my mom gave me a Tylenol PM she had in her purse (mom’s are always prepared). I was already feeling a lot easier about it than the first one. I’m in a lot better place now than I was even three months ago. My faith and trust in God is even greater now than it was then and I imagine it will continue to grow. I actually fell asleep this time during the MRI which takes about 45 minutes. Dr. Choukair met with us right after the MRI. He asked me how I was doing and then he smiled and laughed when he told me that my MRI looked fantastic and that comparing this MRI to the MRI’s in March and December he exclaimed that neither doctors nor medicine had done this. He pointed heavenward and said, “this is the work of some higher power”. We all had really big smiles on our faces (except for Dr. Choukair’s PA, Julia – you know how I feel about PA’s. She seems very capable but really grouchy). That was the good news. Dr. Choukair said he wanted to start Chemotherapy anyway because it is generally what happens after radiation. The Chemotherapy will help what’s left of the tumor to shrink (and hopefully disappear) and hopefully prevent any new tumors from forming in other regions of my brain. I’ve read that soy also helps to keep tumors from popping up in other areas of the brain, so I drink as much chocolate soy milk as I want and think of it as medicine (ha). My brother Todd said it tastes like chocolate yoo-hoo. The chemotherapy is taken orally and is really expensive. We’re hoping to get a grant to help us pay for our 20% co-pay (it’s about $700 a month). Julia chastised me for not sending the paper work for the grant in sooner, but we were hoping it could be given through IV and thus covered under major medical. Blah Blah Blah – paying medical bills sucks (sorry mom about using that word).
As I was walking to another clinic in the hospital to get some blood taken after my appointment with Dr. Choukair, I felt the warmth of the Spirit wash over me. I stopped in the middle of a deserted hallway with sunlight pouring through the windows that were overlooking the Salt Lake valley, and I prayed and thanked the Lord and gave him all the glory for all the good news we had received that day.
You might be asking, “so what does this mean?” and my answer is that I honestly don’t know, only the Lord knows what is in store for us, but faith will help us through the toughest times in our lives. I might have fifteen months or fifty years. I’m hoping beyond hope that I will be there for all the milestones in Erin and Phoenix’s lives, and that Ernie will always have me around to support him and make him laugh when he needs it the most, but God is the gardener and He knows what is best for all of us.
Love,
Jen
My Sister Jenny
This story is about my sister Jenny Higley Lynch. Jenny is a 31-year-old mom who loves her family, the outdoors and making people laugh. In 2005 Jenny was diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme, an aggressive brain tumor. The prognosis was not good. The doctors told Jenny that she would have less than 2 years to live. Although she was 4 months pregnant at the time, Jenny underwent brain surgery to remove the tumor and immediately began radiotherapy. Five months later, following the birth of her beautiful daughter, Phoenix, she began oral chemotherapy.
It has been more than two years since Jenny's diagnosis. Our family was optimistic since her health seemed to be surprisingly good. She wasn't too sick from the chemotherapy and she was even working again.It was a horrible blow when, after an MRI in July of 2007, we found out the cancer was spreading to other areas of the brain. We were unable to understand how she could seem to be doing so well, but still be so sick. We rallied our hopes and Jenny and her oncologist came up with a new game plan. They decided to have an Omaya reservoir implanted. This device is surgically inserted under the scalp for direct injection of chemotherapy throughout the spinal fluid. This surgery left her in pain and made her very sick for a couple of weeks, but she came through it and began the chemotherapy.
Almost a month later, in October of 2007, Jenny became extremely ill and was taken to the hospital where she was diagnosed with Spinal Meningitis. This illness took a huge toll on her and her family. Not only was it physically devistating, but it was an emotional roller coaster. She was put in a hospital in Salt Lake City which is about 60 minutes from Farr West where she lives. This made visitation, child-care and work for her husband, Ernie, and our mother a logistical nightmare. Jenny had to endure 3 or 4 surgeries (we lost count) to relieve intracranial pressure and to insert and remove shunts and drains. Finally, extremely weak and unwell, Jenny was discharged and sent home. She had less than a month to recuperate before the next phase hit.
On December 21 Jenny got another infection in her spinal fluid which caused a lot swelling in the area around brain. She was taken to the University hospital in Salt Lake City again. Within a matter of hours she lost all ability to speak and many of her motor functions. She was in the University of Utah Hospital for 4 weeks, where she battled infection, endured more surgeries and tried to get well. After this she was moved to Salt Lake Regional Medical center where she had 3 weeks of physical, speach and occupational therapies and more antibiotics.
Thankfully, Jenny is home now and in the care of family and friends. Although she seems peaceful, she has sustained considerable brain damage and needs 24-hour care. She cannot perform most every-day functions without a lot of assistance. Speach is minimal and somewhat confused, and we don't know how damaged her thought processes are. She has a hard time concentrating and understanding problems and she cannot yet walk on her own. Most of her time is spent sleeping, watching TV or watching her surroundings.
My dear sister is not the same active person I know and love. I don't know if she will ever fully recover. My family is in a waiting game. Ideally, Jenny will recover and be able to resume her chemotherapy. Meanwhile, her family is faced with a single insurance carrier that doesn't completely pay for all the care she has undergone this far, let alone the care she needs now. The cost for her hospital time alone is astronomical. There are two young daughters and a husband to consider.Our hope is that people whose lives Jenny has touched can help. Every dollar you give will go to provide Jenny care and her family support. Perhaps more important, it will provide Jen's family some of the hope they need to get through this difficult time. We know that God has a plan for Jenny and we are trusting in him. We know that he will bless you for your donation.Thank you.
5 comments
2/5/08
by Heather Chamberlain
Delete
1 – 2 of 2
Erin, Jenny, Phoenix and Ernie
Monday, March 31, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
