Jenny continues to fade away. She had a few rough days of sickness, and now she's sleeping all the time. She hasn't eaten anything or had a drink for a few days now. As a family, we feel that her body is speedily shutting down one small bit at a time. My mom is having to be there pretty much all day and she works to make sure Jenny is comfortable. I don't envy my mom for having to be there, in Jenny's home, with all of her photos and with all of her earthly possessions. Jenny's "essence" is everywhere you look. It's such an emotional pull on her. I think it would be hard for me to do the same.

Here is another e-mail she sent out. It's from October 30, 2006. It was right after we went to Disneyland as a family.

Netty wrote me today and it made me realize that I haven’t been writing as much as I hoped to do. I’m still feeling really great – a little stressed at time with two little kids and mountains and mountains of laundry! :o) I have a few more months of chemo (okay, I’m not even half way finished) but compared with what some others have to go through, my chemo is relatively easy. I do five days a month. My mom takes the kids (which means she has to get up in the night with Phoenix (and/or Erin). My dad helps out. He and Erin “eat grapes” every night so my mom can get some things done around the house. I usually can go to lunch or a movie the first couple of days, and then I generally just feel pretty crummy. I’ll still go and walk around at the mall or something, but even the smell of movie theater popcorn makes me a bit queasy. The anti-nausea meds work great and they’re worth every penny (or twelve bucks a tablet – maybe I should just smoke some pot – just kidding, just kidding). I am just grateful to still be here and able to spend a lot of time with my kids (even if it does mean a lot of work for me!). I went to visit a mission companion last week and she has four kids, so I can’t complain much. I don’t know how she does it! Being a mom is still the best job in the world.

Just before leaving for my trip to Disneyland, my PA told me that I needed a platelet infusion. I wasn’t even sure what platelets were! I looked it up on the Internet and found out that they are sticky little discs in the blood stream that make one’s blood clot. My platelet count went from 190,000 to 20,000. I asked my mom if she would take the kids overnight so that I could leave early in the morning. For the first time in the last three years, Ernie didn’t wake up when his alarm went off – and he was supposed to wake me up! We jumped out of bed at 7:45 (I was supposed to be in Salt Lake at 8:00). Anyway, I got to up to the Huntsman Center, did a quick blood test then went to the infusion center. There were mostly people in there receiving their chemo intravenously. They sat me down in a recliner and gave me an IV. While I was waiting a volunteer came in and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I told him I wanted Diet Coke and he laughed at me. What’s so funny about that? He told me all he had was juice and milk – well why didn’t he ask me if I wanted some juice or some milk – I mean, I really got my hopes up for a nice little diet Coke in a foam cup with crushed ice. :o) Another lady was finishing her chemo treatments after 14 months. They brought in a cake to celebrate. It had fourteen frosted flowers on it and everyone got a piece. I joked with my sisters that it was a lot like getting a pedicure except there were needles and I didn’t get to pick the color. My body rejected the platelets (my antibodies attacked the other antibodies). My platelet count actually went down after the infusion. Julia didn’t want me to go on vacation. I started crying and told her I was going no matter what. She worked really hard to find a hospital in Anaheim and call some orders in so that she could continue to monitor my counts and order another infusion if I needed it. Luckily, my platelets started to go back up a few days later. I still went on all of the roller coasters I could and shaved my legs – despite Julia’s warning to avoid sharp objects and not to cause my body any “trauma” by going on any roller coasters. It’s not like Disneyland has some wicked coasters or anything.

Disneyland was great fun. I’m sad that it’s already over! My mom and dad would take the kids at night and Ernie and I would hurry and ride all the “grown-up” rides. After Disneyland and Sea World, everyone else headed home. We stopped in Hollywood to see Grauman’s Chinese Theater. Gene Simmons left a tongue print (eeewwww!) and John Wayne left a print of his six-shooter. Erin made her own prints in some concrete – a souvenir we got to buy and take with us.

After Hollywood we drove to Visalia and stayed the night at a little hotel that had neither an air conditioner nor fan. It was stifling! The next morning we drove up to see the giant Sequoias. It was misty and beautiful – actually awe inspiring. The oldest tree is around 3,000 years old and it is MASSIVE! I can’t really explain it, but I felt like I had been there before. It was chilly and quiet. There weren’t many visitors and we were really able to soak in our surroundings. I’m sending some pictures. Ernie and I thought it was the best part of the trip (and it was a lot cheaper than Disneyland!).
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I’ve been reading the New Testament. I read parts of Jesus the Christ along with it. Talmadge really offers a lot of insight into everything. Last night when I couldn’t sleep, I thought about Jesus healing the leper. Talmadge describes the leper’s plea as both “pathetic” and “inspiring”. Lepers were considered the uncleanest of all beings. He approached Christ, fell down at the Savior’s feet and asked the Savior to heal him – it wasn’t a question in the leper’s mind whether or not the Christ could heal him, but rather would he heal him? I’m sure the leper was used to people shunning him. Generally they lived separately in colonies with others who were afflicted with this malady. That being said, Christ, without hesitation, reached out his hand and touched the leper. Instantly was the leper healed – “be thou clean” the Savior told him, and he was.

Dallin H. Oaks said in the last General Conference:
“Jesus healed many from physical diseases, but He did not withhold healing from those who sought to be "made whole" from other ailments. Matthew writes that He healed every sickness and every disease among the people (see Matthew 4:23; 9:35). Great multitudes followed Him, and He "healed them all" (Matthew 12:15). Surely these healings included those whose sicknesses were emotional, mental, or spiritual. He healed them all. . .”
“. . . Healing blessings come in many ways, each suited to our individual needs, as known to Him who loves us best. Sometimes a "healing" cures our illness or lifts our burden. But sometimes we are "healed" by being given strength or understanding or patience to bear the burdens placed upon us. . .”
“. . . At times we may despair that our burdens are too great. When it seems that a tempest is raging in our lives, we may feel abandoned and cry out like the disciples in the storm, "Master, carest thou not that we perish?" (Mark 4:38). At such times we should remember His reply: "Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?" (v. 40).”

I know that it may be that faith may not be able to save me. If it is our time to leave this earth then it is time. I cannot say, however, that I have not been healed. Through the Lord’s grace and power, He sent his holy spirit to comfort me and “heal” my broken heart. He has literally taken my burdens upon him. I can remember two distinct instances out of the many, many, many times that I have felt comforted:

The night before my surgery, I was afraid, but I didn’t realize it until the middle of the night how frightened I really was. It was very dark and very quiet. I couldn’t sleep, and I was very worried about leaving Erin without a mom. I felt the darkness closing in around me. I prayed with all my heart and the spirit blessed me. I asked Ernie to come and lay down with me in my bed. We laid there holding each other. I knew everything was going to be okay. It was the beginning of the “healing” process for me. The Lord knew how difficult the next few months would be. His love for me was a salve for my sorrowing spirit.

Another instance was one morning back when I was doing my radiation treatments. I had to go to the OB that morning. Erin was crying and I was tired. Suddenly my burdens felt very heavy. I layed down on the couch and sobbed. “I can’t do this” I cried out to Him, “it’s too much! It’s just too much!” I remember instantly feeling enfolded in a safe embrace. Suddenly I realized that I could do this, because the Lord was there to carry my burdens and heal my aching soul. Just a few thoughts for tonight.

Love, Jen

Jenny is doing about the same as she was last week. Mom says she's pretty aware of things. When I was there visiting her she was still Jenny. She wasn't the "same" Jenny but little things let me know she was there. When I would make sarcastic remarks and she was the only one in the room she smiled. A couple of nights when my Mom and I were putting her to bed, Jen would laugh out loud, probably because I stink at helping. It was a laugh that was short and simple, but thoroughly Jenny. It still rings in my ear like a clear bell. I just have to think about it and I feel her close by. It's funny how a laugh so individualistic can make others remember better times. For Jenny, her laugh was her trademark.

Some more of her e-mails I thought you'd like to hear. This one was dated October 30, 2006. This one talks about my mom and dad a little bit. Their pictures are included. My mom is going to be unhappy about this but too bad! She has been so inspiring and unfailing in all this mess. She takes care of Jenny without a thought to herself. She has taken on so many hats and I am so proud of her and I wanted her to know that and to tell her we all love her so much.


I was thinking about my dad and how he once taught us an important lesson about gratitude. I was pretty young when this happened, but my dad was still farming back then. As a farmer, he was “obsessed” with the weather. Even when he was home he’d always be checking the weather out the window. An early frost can destroy an entire crop and a sudden change in the weather could be extremely stressful. We said a prayer as a family every morning around the coffee table in the front room. I was still in my pajamas because I don’t think I was in school yet. My dad walked in the door (he had already been up) and looked really stressed. It had been a cold night and he was worried about the crops. We knelt as a family and my dad asked that the crops would be okay. The other kids went to school and me and my little sister stayed home. My dad walked in later. He had just examined the crops on part of the farm and they were frosted over. I’m sure he was stressed and upset, but do you know what he did? He knelt down with us again and he thanked Heavenly Father for all that we had. When my dad came back in at lunchtime, he told my mom that the crops on the other part of the farm had been spared from the frost. My mom tells the story much better, I was pretty young at the time, but I’m really thankful that my dad taught us to be grateful for what we have, even when things seem bad.

Yesterday was my 30th birthday. Ernie took the day off of work (which is a really big deal for him). We went to breakfast at Jeremiah’s and then we came home so Erin could have a nap (and Ernie, too). My mom met us around noon and we drove down to Thanksgiving Point to see the tulips and let Erin play in the children’s garden. The first thing that happened was Erin stepped in a puddle up to her ankles. The water was murky and full of leaves and moss, but she didn’t seem to mind. Ernie lifted her out of the puddle, but she just kept trying to get back in. I was also walking with Erin, holding one hand with my mom holding Erin’s other hand when I looked down at the sidewalk and saw a snake at my feet. Besides the fact that I was wearing flip flops (hey, I’m nine months pregnant, I’ll wear what I want), I really don’t like snakes. I think I screamed jumped about six feet in the air, Erin tried to go after it and my mom stopped her. Last night we had a party with hamburgers and cake and ice cream. My family came and I thought it was a lot of fun. I don’t think I’ve had a birthday cake for a few years, but I made one this year. You only turn 30 once – well, you know what I mean.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the spirit of healing. My dad spoke of it once during a priesthood blessing. I’ve thought a lot about spiritual healing, too. When I was first diagnosed, I was devastated and searching wildly for answers. I allowed my heart to fill with doubt and fear at times. I turned to the world for hope and found none. I turned to the Lord and was cradled in the arms of His love, remembering the words He spoke to his disciples, “My peace I leave with you. . .” I then realized that only through him would I feel the calmness I once knew. Only through Him do I have Eternal Hope. Only He can know exactly what I am feeling, and send the right people to comfort me at the right time. Carol Lynn Pearson, a poet that my mom really liked when I was growing up (and I “borrowed” her books) writes a poem about spiritual healing:

THE HEALING

A bird
Once broken
Can never fly,
They say,
Quite so high
Again.

Perhaps.

But as for me,
Now desperately
In need of mending,
I have a healer
Who would restore
These foolish wings
Without a scar.

I will lie quiet
Beneath His touch
I will listen
As He whispers,
“Rise
And fall no more.”

And then –
Then I shall
Soar.

I am thankful for the smell of a blossoming cherry tree, for a tiny being growing inside me, for a blue-eyed little girl who is so excited to see me every morning, and for those moments when she wakes up in the night and she wants a snuggle. I am thankful for a husband who still holds my hand in the car, and for his 3:00 break time when Erin and I go visit him at work. I’m thankful for friends that took me to lunch and bought me a pedicure (I actually got gift certificates for three pedicures! You think they’re trying to tell me something?). I’m thankful for root beer popsicles, for a friend that flew all the way from Wisconsin to visit me, for my mom who took off of work to spend time with me on my birthday, for my dad for always being so nice to me, and for the moment between daylight and twilight – the “magic hour” (the best time to kill dragons). I’m thankful for Jesus Christ and His loving example and I wish I could be so much more like Him, but I’m thankful that He loves me even though I’m not perfect.

Love,
Jen

Miracles and Mormon Muffins

Hi, everyone. We have had a difficult week. Monday, February 18 my mom and Ernie took Jenny to the hospital because she quit speaking all together, had become very lethargic and lost some more coordination in the right side of her body. After waiting nine hours in the ER, and after a CT and an MRI, the doctors discovered that half of Jenny's brain was clouded in tumor and the other half was covered in abcess. As soon as mom and Ernie saw the scans for themselves they knew that the battle was over. It seemed the antibiotics weren't taking care of the infection and the cancer was also spreading. Together they decided instead of subjecting Jen to more surgeries, they would bring her home and make her as comfortable as possible for her final days. A strange burden seemed to be lifted from our shoulders as we began to feel the intention of the Lord. We are getting used to the idea. We are struggling but are somewhat at peace. Jenny, ironically, has popped back up after quitting the antibiotics. I was able to go to Utah, spend time with her and possibly say my final good-byes. She has become more alert than she has been for weeks and has gained some strength. What a blessing for her to be able to enjoy some more days with her family. I, for one, will treasure that gift forever.

Here's another e-mail she sent entitled "Miracles and Mormon Muffins." It was sent on December 28, 2006. Hope you like it.

On December 7, I officially became a one year cancer survivor. It’s cute that they make special little names for us – “victim” is a no-no – and I would agree with that. “Survivor” just sounds better I guess, but it always makes me think of the song “Eye of the Tiger”, and then I picture myself doing chin ups and pulling sleds of rock up an icy hill like Rocky in Rocky IV – that’s right, “eye of the tiger” that’s me.

To celebrate my “survivorship” we went to eat at the Greenery, one of my favorite restaurants and an old family favorite. We ate “Mormon muffins” and had some diet coke (I think their diet Coke is the best – my friend Jen calls it “crack water” – it’s true, that stuff will kill you). The waitress asked if it was a birthday or something and I explained to her that I was officially a one year cancer survivor. She is co-chair for the Relay for Life, an event that is held each year at Weber State to raise money for cancer research. She brought me a big decadent, gluttonous piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (and a cherry on top) and she sang “happy one year anniversary”. My eyes filled with tears and I saw that my dad’s, Lesa’s and my mom’s were too. I hope that waitress understands what a service she did for me that night. It made everything really special. She’s also sending me a special invitation for the Relay for Life in August.

My last chemo treatment went really well. I didn’t feel as sick. On the third day of the Temodar cycle I took care of the kids for most of the day. We built a fort out of blankets. Both Erin and Phoenix were really excited about it. Phoenix just rolled around inside it, staring at the pictures of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on the blanket. Phoenix can get anywhere she wants to go just by rolling and scooting. She sits up by herself now (which is amazing considering she has a pretty big head for such a little body!). Erin called the fort her “little house”. She squealed with laughter when she realized what I was doing with the big blanket. I was “Grandma” coming for a visit to see my “grandkids” (Carebears and a freaky looking doll that Erin loves).

I wrote about “miracles” in my journal and I thought I’d share part of it with you:

“. . . My whole world came to a sudden, terrible stop . . . I was deeply, terribly depressed, and without the Love of my Heavenly Father, I most assuredly would have remained that way. I’m here by His Grace and I must always be mindful of that fact. I may not experience the miracle of being cured, but the miracles I have experienced have been many. . .”

I look at Phoenix and I can’t believe how close I came to losing her. I am so thankful there was a doctor brave enough to take a chance on our unborn baby. They did so much work and research on my behalf. I feel so blessed and happy to have her in my life. She’s Ernie through and through and I love her so much. I also experience joy every single day. I remember wondering what I might be able to pray for. I knew people who were also young with children who undoubtedly prayed to be healed and who passed away. I wondered if I was questioning the will of our omnipotent God by asking to be healed; so I prayed that I would be able to feel joy again. I honestly never thought I’d feel that again. My whole world was twisted up into everything cancer, and now I sometimes go all day without thinking about it once. I woke up thinking about it; I went to bed thinking about it. Some days I would cry off and on the whole day, and now I can’t remember the last time I cried about it. It’s not that crying is bad, but I was wallowing in my own sadness and there were times that I literally felt the presence of the Adversary who wanted me to be miserable. The Lord was willing and able to ensure that I had joy in my life, but I believe he also wanted me to have the faith to ask for it.

I couldn’t have made it those first few harrowing months without the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the unfaltering love of my husband and family, and the sweet, kind acts of neighbors and even strangers. I don’t have the actual quote, but I believe it was Spencer W. Kimball who once said, “God does love us and watch over us, but it is usually through someone else that he meets our needs.” (I’m sure he was much more eloquent). Like the simple vase of tulips from a sister in my ward. For two weeks I kept them near the window in my kitchen, and when I would see them, I would think of spring and hope and better times. Tiny acts of kindness such as these got me through the darkest days of my life.

We had a terrific Christmas, and I hope that all of you did as well. Happy New Year!

Letters from Jenny

I've been going through some of Jen's old e-mails this week. It's hard to read them but also fun because it makes me feel closer to her. I've always been amazed and somewhat jealous of her writing ability and how she can make words speak to people so beautifully. She has always had such a writing talent.

I decided it would be fun to put some of those old e-mails on this web site so that people can get to know my sister better and see what a wonderful person she is. Although I am the oldest of us, I always felt that I had more to learn from Jen than she did from me.

The following is an excerpt from an e-mail dated April 11, 2006. It was written about 4 months after her diagnosis.

Hi everyone! I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while. Erin and I have been having a lot of fun with the sunny weather. Daylight Savings has been very beneficial to my mood, I’m sure it’s helped a lot of you out, too. My mom can’t wait to ride her bike in the mornings. She’s been working out at the gym. I can’t believe she wakes up at 5:00 every morning – I feel so lazy! Erin has been waking up at night. I think her internal clock get a little messed up with the time change.

Ernie didn’t have to work Saturday so he stayed home and cleaned out the garage (yea!). He said he didn’t realize what a pack rat he was becoming until he realized he was eventually either going to have to throw it away or move it. It’s so nice to have a 2 car garage again! The weather was so nice on Saturday. I opened the sliding glass door and Erin sat in the sun in front of the screen. I was sitting at the table and looked over at her. She was looking so angelic and peaceful and then she pulled up her shirt to reveal her belly button and said in a soft voice “Tickle? Tickle? Tickle?” Later in the afternoon we went to Farr West Elementary and flew kites on the field. Erin flew her own kite. She didn’t exactly understand the concept (she kept running after the kite, trying to catch it). Then she got tired of that and rolled around in the wet sand for a while. She was filthy! I think her Aunt Mindy would have had a heart attack if she had seen how dirty Erin was. Dallon is always very neat and respectable.

I’ve been thinking about an experience that I had while in Germany that I didn’t really understand at the time. I was in Erfurt at a street display at a place called “Anger” a wide open space where all of the trams met. Usually we would approach people as they were walking by. I used to say, “Hello, may I introduce myself?” (in German of course) and sometimes the person would wait long enough for me to tell them who I was before they would say, “no time” or “not interested” or “no need”. A lot of people in that part of Germany are atheist because of the communist teachings that religion was just “opium for the masses”. I once stopped a man who was short and a little stout (not like a tea pot). He was probably in his fifties, balding, with a gray beard and a kind face. I approached him and started the conversation. I asked him if he believed in God and we chatted. He asked why we (the missionaries) were all so happy and so we chatted awhile about Jesus Christ and redemption. Then he said to me, “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway. I’ve been out walking in the woods, thinking about life and death.” He then went on to tell me that he had recently been diagnosed with cancer and was going to have an operation the next day. He had been walking through the crowded pedestrian area when I stopped him. He told me that talking to me was like talking to someone he had known for a hundred years. He said he could tell that I spoke from my heart. We talked a little longer, and I don’t know if I’ve felt the spirit so strong before. As he was leaving, he told me there are people in your life that you only meet briefly but you never forget, he told me I was one of those people to him. I wanted to break down into a long hard sob right there. I knew that I had been a tool in God’s hands that day and that He directed me and guided me in giving comfort to this man. As someone who now walks the path he was walking, I understand how much a conversation like that would have meant to me under similar circumstances. Stephen R. Covey wrote that we are all tools in the Lord’s hands. Maybe you’re a saw and he needs a hammer, but if you keep your saw sharpened, when he needs a saw, you’ll be ready.

I found a quote that my first mission companion in Germany used to share with me by Harold B. Lee, “You must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness; then the light will appear and show the way before you.” That’s such a simple concept, but so spiritually powerful. We need to trust in God that if we just step into the darkness of the unknown, our eyes will adjust and we’ll be able to see the light before us. This is the picture I had in my journal underneath that quote. That’s me walking into the “darkness.”
This is another picture that I found in an Ensign in my last apartment on my mission. I didn’t write down the artist’s name, but the title of the piece is “The Initial Act” which reminds me of the story about a boy in Ireland who had been climbing on some rocks with his friends. The boy climbed down to a ledge and realized he could not climb back up. His friends ran and brought the boy’s father back, by which time it had become dark. The boy’s father called to him and told him to jump that he would catch him. The boy looked down and could hear his father’s voice but he could not see him. Again his father called out and told the son that he could see him and that he would catch him. The boy held his breath and jumped into the darkness only to be enveloped in the arms of his father who caught him without incident.

I feel like I’m learning a lot about trust right now. I put my whole trust in Him and know He lives and loves all of us. He understands our triumphs and our struggles and He is always there for us if we just have enough faith to accept Him into our lives.

Well, thanks for reading today! I am enjoying life! I’m feeling good and the new baby is doing well, too. She’s due May 29th for those who maybe want to know.

Jen