Here we go.....

Ok, so you know when you’ve asked someone for a favor, and they act weird about it, and you retort with a, “God, I’m not asking for your kidney – just forget I even asked!”? Well, in the next few paragraphs, I AM going to be asking for your kidney, so stop reading now if you know in your heart you could never donate it. And, I won’t judge you for it; it’s a scary thing to think about losing an organ. It’s a scary prospect to face the rest of your life with HALF of your body’s filtration system. But, if you read about what happens to Living Kidney Donors, you’ll be inundated with facts on how your other kidney, by the Grace of God’s brilliant design, will step up to the plate and say, “I’ll miss you, Buddy; it’s been a good 25 years, but I got this. You go and start your work elsewhere. Please tell Steve I got this over here.”

It’s amazing what your body does to adapt after kidney donation. Did you know that on average, kidney donors live a longer life due to the fact that they generally take better care of themselves after the transplant? Are there risks? Of course there are. I don’t want to bore you with the details of the minute amounts of things that can go wrong. But, you can find so much info out there anyway. If you’ve read this far, it seems you at least have an interest in calling the toll free number to start the process.

Obviously, I have a vested interest in this case. It’s taken me several weeks, days, hours, and moments to come to terms with the fact that in the biggest time of my baby brother’s need, I failed him. I couldn’t save him, even though there was NOTHING in this world that I wanted more. I could write volumes on what my brother means to me…on how giving him a world not attached to tubes and wires and a thousand medications was something that I didn’t even quite understand how badly I wanted. It was as if a hole had been punched through me that would never close.

But, for reasons that I’ll probably never understand, it wasn’t meant to be. His big sister, who solved all his problems when he was a little boy, couldn’t solve this one, despite praying and hoping with every fiber of her being that she could. And with that, I have turned my shock, hurt, anger, feelings of failure and inadequacy into an energy that I can only describe as fierce. I WILL find him a donor. I WILL, in all ways possible, help save my brother. It’s the same path I started out on, only now, my determination is geared in a different direction.

I am going to post a toll free number at the bottom of this. When I’m done, and you sit with the thought in your head of, “Man, I really want to do this, but I have a family,” or, “I’m too young, or too old, or too out of shape,” I only ask that you pray about it if that’s what you do. By calling the number, you are simply agreeing to be tested as a POSSIBLE match. They may even rule you out over the phone due to a few reasons, but it CAN’T hurt. It will cost you nothing through this process; my brother’s insurance takes care of all medical issue finances for you.

So, ultimately, yes, I am asking for your kidney. But, first, I’m just asking that you’ll call to see if you may be the one that gives my brother life. This journey has opened my eyes to so many things – one of which that life is too precious, and any time I have the opportunity to change – let alone save – someone’s life, I’m taking it.

So, here’s the number. Call it. See if you might have that opportunity NOW. And, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this far and considering it. It means the world to me and my family. It means life, and it means that you might be able to give it in a situation in which not many people ever have the opportunity. Think Eminem, as I’ve had it playing the entire time I’ve been writing this, “Lose yourself in the music, the moment, you own it; you better never let it go…You only get one shot; do not miss your chance to blow – cause opportunity comes once in a lifetime, Yo….”

Call it: 210.575.4483 – when they ask, tell them you’re calling for Stephen Preusz – they’ll take it from there.

B
(and the link "Lose Yourself" is a link to his You Tube video - play it while you read it...it helps).

"Lose Yourself"

Retrospective

I guess given the circumstances of late, it seems a bit odd to be looking back rather than forward, but I've been really engulfed in my past - particularly my senior year of high school. Songs, notes, volleyball Sectional Champs (sorry - had to throw that in - hehe!), true love, true friendships that lasted a lifetime, or at least seems like a lifetime. I've thought long and hard about why I can't seem to shake thinking about this time in my life, and I think it's because it was truly the easiest, most simple, worry-free, 'top of the world' time of my life. Now, I'm raising four kids, working my ass off, and worrying about my baby brother, who during my senior year, was happy, healthy, and I was his Big Sis who could fix all his problems. Now, I have a chance to 'fix' the biggest problem he will hopefully ever face in his liftime, and it's weighing on me. What if my organs aren't healthy enough? What if my kidney fails him? What if I can't 'fix' this for him? All of this is taking me back to a time when winning volleyball games, road tripping, and going to football games, basketball games, and baseball games - with my little brother in tow most of the time - was the only thing that consumed me. My whole life was ahead of me, and I dreamed of what I'd become - I dreamed of having a family, with two kids, lots of dogs and cats, and a 'perfect life'. I was always liberal, so I knew I wanted to work, and after a major change of direction in college, I finally chased my true love: English - and especially the grammar side of it. I like literature, but I could seriously diagram sentences all day. I know - FREAK. So, I did graduate with a degree in English and was able to teach at VU for five years before I finally stopped working for awhile as I had enough work with a four year old, two year old, and a newborn who didn't sleep due to having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from his experience after his birth. It was another time in my life that I drifted back to my past and settled there for hours at a time in my dreams. After a serious bout of Post Partum Depression eased from seeking help, I decided to dive into photography head on. And now, five years later, I'm here. I'm right where I want to be. Except, I'm still sucked in to that time of my life when all was well, and I had no worries. Anyway, listening to music that takes me back there is helping a bit. And, it's a reminder that despite the circumstances with my Bub, I am so very blessed. I can't decide if I want to journal about this experience with my Bub on this blog, or if I need to start a new one. Either way, I'm going to at least start on this one so I can get my thoughts onto 'paper', and my kids will someday understand what I'm doing, and why, and how when you truly love someone with all your heart, you'd do anything for them, without a thought at all, even though I know all of my kids would donate their own kidney to Uncle Tebe NOW if they could. They love him to the moon and back, and the feeling is completely mutual. So, please, come on this journey with me. If I can figure out how to embed songs into this blog, I will use music to sort of represent what's going on in this head of mine. And of course, any prayers and positive thoughts are always more than welcome. ** I have no idea why blogger in not putting paragraphs into my posts, but until I figure it out, I apologize. ** B

On my Way...

Do you ever just feel like you have so much spinning around in your head that if you don't get it out in some form or another, it might explode? Well, I feel like that all the time - of course figuratively speaking, but in my case, literally also. I have suffered from chronic sinusitis all my life. I've had MRSA in there; I've taken every anti-inflammatory and antibiotic known to man, and I've flushed my nose with salt water probably over 10,000 times. And that's not an exaggeration AT ALL. At one time, during my pregnancy with Marlo, the infection was so bad that I had to have a six week IV treatment with Rocephin - two times a day - straight into my arm and into my system. And while it worked for a tad bit, it didn't really do much. I had my THIRD sinus surgery in July of 2010. The doctor who performed my first one said that I was definitely one of the worst cases he'd seen. In the last 20 months - since my last surgery, I have suffered from 'sinus migraines'. They feel like a migraine, but they aren't nuerological in form - they are because my sinuses get so filled with infection that they basically become like rocks inside my head and the pressure creates all kinds of problems. My only form of relief is pain medicine - both prescription and OTC. But now, I'm sick of it. I'm pissed off. I'm so tired of being dependent on drugs to mask this pain, and when I say dependent - I mean it literally. I KNOW I'm dependent on these pain meds because gradually I've had to increase my dose to get the same relief. I. WANT. OFF. OF. THEM. I don't want to become addicted to pain medication, which is a HUGE possibility when you take them regularly like I do. So, a few weeks ago, I went to see Andrea Stephens - Doc Rohrer's NP. For those of you who haven't been to her, you're missing out. Not only did she listen to me basically break down about my situation and listen to me blab on about my fear of addiction, blah, blah, blah, she took a vested interest in my case. She mentioned a place in California who is dealing with these sinus nebulizers to get the meds straight to your sinuses instead of having to go through your entire system. I've been on so many anti-biotics in my lifetime that if a super bacteria ever hits, I'm the first to go - seriously. But this is different, and the success rate is high. When she mentioned it, I kind of brushed it off as I've been told things by the medical community before that really never came to fruition for varios reasons. But later in the week, the place in California called me. THEY CALLED ME. All because Andrea took the time to call them and fill them in on my info and send them scripts in my name. Over the last few weeks, we've been in communication, and today, I ordered it. I ordered the machine that has the potential to change my life. I know that sounds drastic, but it's not in the least. My headaches, and my infections and constant fatigue, have put a huge damper on my life. I can't exercize; I can't run around the yard with my kids; I have the energy of an old, dying sloth. I'm tired of it. I know BJ and the kids have to be tired of it. I'm tired of it consuming 80% of my thoughts and I'm tired of being dependent on pain meds to get me through my activities. I know I have high hopes for this, and if it doesn't work, then I'll move on to the next alternative. But right now, at this moment, I'm filled with more hope than I've had in a long time. I desperately want to get back in shape. I desperately want to have the energy that having four kids requires. And I desperately want off these meds. I'm tired of my backpack looking and sounding like a pharmacy from all the meds clinking around in it. So, these words, and this sinus junk, literally have to GET OUT of my head. I think I'm going to put Eminem's "I'm Not Afraid" on repeat today. Ok, so that's a little overboard, but I'm so ready for this. I'm so ready to get myself back and stop letting my sinuses have all the glory. No more. And, if you have a medical problem, please consider seeing Andrea. I can't tell you how wonderful she was, and how much time and energy she put into helping me. Here's to clear sinuses, a healthy body and mind, and being back to 'me'. Bring it on!

"Emily's Tea Party"

A Journey to Boston

BJ and I got married in October of 1997, and we moved into our first place a month later.  We spent our first 'married' birthdays there, and we had so much fun decorating for our first Christmas together!  BJ was working at his Dad's car lot at the time, and I was driving back and forth to Oakland City to finish my English Degree.

 When spring break rolled around for me, which happened to be a cold and snowy one that year, I decided it was time to start voluteering my time somewhere, and spring break seemed like a good opportunity.  And, after not very much a lot of thought about where to start my voluteering, I jumped into to my car and headed out to the Vincennes Pet Port - with strict instructions from BJ and everyone who knew me, to NOT come home with a pet on my first trip.  I'm an animal psychopath.  I save and rescue everything that comes into my view - including rodents and bugs.  But that's another post. 

When I arrived at the Pet Port, I was taken into a room to fill out papers so I could be a volunteer.  I had completely planned to head to the Cat Room and give the cats some lovin'.   As I finished my paper work, a man in a sock hat, with a scruffy salt and pepper beard, volunteered to show me around.  We took a look at the puppy area, and I said my pleasantries, "Oh, how cute," when inside I was doing everything in my power to keep from running in the room, gathering as many as I could hold in my arms and darting out the door.  But I didn't.  I made it all the way back to the 'big dog' cages before the nice man said, "I know you told me 782 times that you CAN NOT take an animal home, but there's just one dog in particular you have to meet.  He's over here with this red dog - they were found runnin' together, and brought in by a young couple yesterday.  You just have to meet this guy - he's somethin' else."  And so, I walked to the cage and laid eyes on the red dog first.  My heart sank with sadness, obviously, worried about her fate. 

But then, I laid eyes on the dog he was talking about.  He was obviously mostly border collie, but bigger - he was built just like "Lassie" but with a bit shorter hair, and he was black and white - not at all what I was expecting.  The man said to me, "Let me get him out - you can start by walking him around outside a bit."  Fine.  I could handle this.  "I won't get completely attached after a short walk.  I can handle putting him back in the prison cage when we're done."  The man put the leash on him, handed it to me, and off we went out the door.  I'd take a step, and then he'd take one.  I'd go four, he'd go four.  What a good dog.  And then, I bent down, face to face, and I was done.  Finished.  Finito.  When I looked into his eyes, as corney as this sounds, it was as if he already knew me.  He knew I was coming.  He knew who I was.  I grabbed him around the neck and told him everything would be ok.

I walked him back in, handed the leash to the man, and headed home to discuss the situation with BJ.  I knew all the logical reasons why we shouldn't get him.  I knew we lived in a small apartment, and he was a BIG dog.  I knew all these things, and yet, I wanted him.  I wanted him with all my being.  And, as I explained all of this and more to my husband, he gently, but adamantly, said NO.  NO.  NO.  I wasn't mad, because I knew the deal we had made before I went.  But, I was persistent enough to convince him to go see him.  I knew that would hook him.  Nope.  "I've never really liked Border Collies."  I thought to myself, 'Oh yeah, you've known a lot of Border Collies, have you - tons, huh?"  But again, I wasn't mad, just crushed.  Beyond crushed.  I cried to myself in the car and prayed - out loud - that God would lead him to a good family.  That this creature, who had stolen my heart in two minutes of knowing him - would live a good life.

The next day, a Sunday, I moped and worried and pouted until my whole family finally told me to get over it.  He would be fine.  I had made a deal.  They were right.  It was a bit warmer that day, so my brother and BJ decided to go play a round of golf.  Good.  I didn't have to look at the face of the man who broke my heart into a million pieces.  Hmph.  I was NOT bitter at all.  I hung out at my parents' place all day until BJ called and he and Stevie had picked up pizza and headed to the apartment, so my Pops needed to bring me home.  My dad talked to me on the way home about all the ways I SHOULDN'T be mad at my husband over this dog.  I finally relented, and planned to apologize as soon as I saw him.  I opened the door, and I looked at BJ, standing by the couch, with THE dog at his feet. 

He and my brother had gone to the Pet Port after golf, and rescued the being that would change my life in so many ways.  I was speechless.  I truly was.  My awesome husband and wonderful Bub were grinning from ear to ear telling the story of how they had gotten him, took him to the car lot, and bathed him in cold water (the only water source there) and he hadn't so much as growled, barked or complained in any way.  They KNEW he was a good dog, and they had both felt what I felt the day before.  He had won them over in two hours. 

For the next couple of days, we debated names.  We wondered about his past, but found out from the vet that he was actually still a puppy - just barely full grown, probably not a year yet.  We tried out names on him to see if he might recognize one.  Then, we thought of the Celtics - BJ's favorite NBA team when he was little.  "Celtic?"  No.  "Bird?"  Uh uh.  "Larry?"  Absolutely not.  And as if out of a story, BJ and I at the same time blurted out, "Boston?"  And, in perfect timing, our 'Boston' looked at us like he was pleased.  That was it.  Boston.

Over the next FOURTEEN years - yes, FOURTEEN - Bossy was more than a dog could ever be.  He laid with me during my sadness of losing our first baby; he sat with me through the fear of my next pregnancy, and then welcomed Sam with open arms - despite being demoted to our 'second baby' behind Sam.  He welcomed all of our kids, and pets, and craziness.  He became best friends with my Bub's dog Jewell, and they enjoyed several years of romping around in the snow together.  He loved nothing more than chasing the kids around the yard - especially in the snow.  All of our friends knew Bos - and most of them agreed that he 'knew' them the minute they locked eyes with him.  He was a fierce protector - with a deep, scary bark.  I ALWAYS felt safe with my Bos around.  He was not a cuddler, though.  He preferred to roam the house at night, almost as if he was on shift.

In the last year, Bossy's health took a turn for the worse.  The dog was 14 - of course it took a turn for the worse.  His bones were aching, and he was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure.  But you know what, he still would get a little spry at times and chase one of our cats around the yard.  We were SHOCKED he made it through Christmas as his age and health was obviously affecting him greatly.  Three days ago, he started to foam and drool and his breathing was so labored that it was painful to look at him.  As we were eating lunch - as a family - at our table...I made the call to our vet.  They instructed us to bring him in, and they would put him down and end his suffering.  To say that our hearts were shattered, would seriously be the understatement of the year.  This dog - this being - this soul - was such an integral part of The Thornes. 

I bawled as I watched each of my kids hug his neck and tell him goodbye, and that they would see him again.  BJ and were both crying uncontrollably as he picked him up and put him in the car for the last time.  We arrived at the vet and they took us into the room.  At this point, he was so labored in his breathing, we honestly thought he might die on his own.  Bos walked over to where I was kneeling on the floor and lay down.  Dr. Catt gave him an injection to take away his pain and sedate him deeply.  BJ and I both were talking to him, and when the medicine hit him, he was so peaceful and breathing so calmly.  I know God was there - ready to welcome him.  As sad and broken as I was, when Dr. Catt walked in with the injection that would stop the heart of the soul that had given us so much throughout his life, I was at peace.  I put my arms around his neck - just as I had done on that miraculous first meeting fourteeen years ago and told him it was okay; we loved him, and we would be with him again.  Dr. Catt told me that when she has a patient that she has to euthanize, it's not nearly as sad when she knows it's an animal who has lived the fullest and best life possible.  That gave me so much hope and peace, and I think it shows what kind of doctor she truly is.

Boston - our journey to you and with you will be one that changed us forever.  Thank you for choosing us.  Thank you for being a Dog among Dogs.  Thank you for protecting us and loving us with every fiber of your being. You truly were, are, and will be a part of us forever.  Until we meet again, my sweet peanut butter loving boy, God Speed and Sweet Dreams.