Some Additional Thoughts

I was proud of myself for posting the final piece of our account yesterday afternoon, knowing my Sunday morning wouldn't be as harried as the last couple of weeks (yet it managed to be anyway! I should not have been surprised). Ironically, though, the Conference talk I read last night had several passages that seemed to directly relate to my experience. I sat down tonight to edit the post from yesterday to include them, but decided instead to draft a new post entirely. Consider this an extended "P.S."

This talk, titled "Redemption," was given by Elder D. Todd Christofferson, someone I've actually interacted with several times while growing up, long before he was an apostle. He talks about the Savior's role as our Redeemer and the different aspects of that title, and discusses how we as Christians "seek to participate in and further His redemptive work." After mentioning missionary work and temple work, Elder Christofferson notes that as Jesus provided temporal service for others during His ministry, we can also assist in that meaning of redemption:

"This kind of redemptive work means helping people with their problems. It means befriending the poor and the weak, alleviating suffering, righting wrongs, defending truth, strengthening the rising generation, and achieving security and happiness at home. Much of our redemptive work on earth is to help others grow and achieve their just hopes and aspirations."

I do not feel like I was a lost soul or anything before all of this drama occurred this month, yet I clung to this quote last night with relief to find a word for how I felt regarding everyone's service. I feel redeemed. Like this miracle has freed me to a new level of appreciation for life, for family, for time, for the people around me. Those who assisted me and my family during this time truly did assist the Savior in His work. I will forever be grateful for this experience, for that reason.

As I think I've mentioned before, I have felt a deep responsibility to document and share this story. I have tried to bear witness of miracles, but in reviewing Elder Christofferson's words, I don't think my posts are complete without more directly sharing my testimony. For one thing, my experience (among countless others you could find) demonstrates that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a well-oiled machine in terms of members taking care of one another (and of non-members in need - read the entire talk for proof of that). Elder Christofferson states,

"Some forms of temporal redemption come by collaborative effort. It is one of the reasons the Savior created a church. Being organized in quorums and auxiliaries and in stakes, wards, and branches, we can not only teach and encourage each other in the gospel, but we can also bring to bear people and resources to deal with the exigencies of life. People acting alone or in ad hoc groups cannot always provide means on a scale needed to address larger challenges. As followers of Jesus Christ we are a community of Saints organized to help redeem the needs of our fellow Saints and as many others as we can reach across the globe."

Through my bishop, home teacher, Relief Society president, Relief Society Compassionate Service Leader, and other individuals serving in assigned callings, the blessings and support we received were carried out in an extremely organized, systematic manner - which enabled everything to occur quickly and seamlessly. No one had to wonder what had been done already or had not been done yet. That fact deserves to be highlighted. 

Elder Christofferson closes his remarks with the following: 

"As disciples of Jesus Christ, we ought to do all we can to redeem others from suffering and burdens. Even so, our greatest redemptive service will be to lead them to Christ. Without His Redemption from death and from sin, we have only a gospel of social justice. That may provide some help and reconciliation in the present, but it has no power to draw down from heaven perfect justice and infinite mercy. Ultimate redemption is in Jesus Christ and in Him alone."

Thus, the responsibility that I have felt to share our story won't be fully satisfied without declaring that I know Jesus is the Christ, and that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds the fulness of His Gospel on the earth today. I know we are led by a living prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, and apostles who receive revelation from our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, to let us know Their will for us right now. I know that I receive revelation for myself and my family through prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance; Heavenly Father knows who I am, loves me, and guides me personally. I know the Book of Mormon is true, and that it enhances my study of the Bible and provides me endless insights into the purpose and plan of my life here on earth. If you are unfamiliar with the LDS Church and have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me anything. If any of this story has touched your heart, I invite you to listen to or watch the General Conference of the LDS Church occurring this coming Saturday and Sunday, October 5 and 6. You can view it live (10AM-Noon and 2PM-4PM, Mountain Daylight Time, both days) here, or use the same link to watch/listen/read it after the fact, or watch/listen/read talks from previous Conferences. Listen to words from those we sustain as living prophets and apostles, and see for yourself what you think of their authenticity.

There. Now I'm done. :-) Thanks for reading!

This Sickness is Not Unto Death - Part 3

If you've made it to this final post, thank you. Forgive me, it's long (again). Wednesday morning, we got to Will at the hospital right as they started waking him up. As the sedative and paralytic wore off, he immediately started shaking all over (just like he had done in the ER), and he pulled his left leg in (in discomfort?) and opened his eyes slightly. The doctor said he needed to do a few commands to see if Will could respond, and shouted, "William, open your eyes!" like he had on Monday in the ER. Will did. The doctor pounded on his chest (I think he had to do something that would hurt to see how/if Will reacted?), and Will winced and pulled his body upward a little. The doctor asked him to squeeze his hand, and he did. The doctor was satisfied with Will's responses and said these were all really good signs, and said he would be back in 1.5 hours or so to remove Will's intubation if things continued in this direction. With the low expectations we had tried to maintain, we were thrilled beyond words at what we were witnessing.

I held Will's left hand and pet his forehead and told him we were here and everything was okay, and he immediately started to calm down and not shake anymore. I don't remember the sequence of all this, but I told him we were at the hospital and that we thought we lost him (I think that's what I said, and started to break down). He was still intubated and obviously extremely uncomfortable from that, trying to move around, and we told him not to move even though it was uncomfortable. I let Alena trade me places, and she said something like, "Can you see me?" or "Can you open your eyes?", and he suddenly opened his eyes quite widely. They were blood red and a little goopy. At some point, I returned to the head of his bed (left side) and was still holding his left hand, when I realized he was signing ASL letters in my hand. We first saw W-H-A-T-H-A (by then we said, "What happened?" and he nodded). I explained. He then signed B-A-D-D-R-E (somewhere in there we asked, "Bad dream?" and he nodded), to which we responded, "Tell us about it!" with an involuntary laugh. He asked (I forget how) the day and/or time, and then started in with "What happened?" again. The doctor had told us that his short-term memory would be pretty bad for a while, so we were expecting that and went through things again. Sometime around now, I tried my mom at 7:45 to update her quickly, left a voicemail, and then called my brother, Joel, when I didn't reach her, gave him the update and asked him to let family know and post it to Facebook.

At some point, the nurse said the respiratory therapist would be there in a minute to take out Will's tubing (which was surprising, since the doctor had said he would do it - but we weren't arguing, since we wanted Will more comfortable and able to communicate with us!). Alena took a picture of Will giving the thumbs-up sign, which we posted to Facebook, and which has since symbolized to me all the miracles we experienced during this time.

Bishop was there by then (I forget...he might have been there from the beginning that morning). My memory of sequencing is horrible, but here are the first few things that Will said once he was no longer intubated (several of them repeated several times, due to that short-term memory):

• "What happened?" (we realized too late after the fact that we should have recorded my explanation on my iPad, then pressed Play each time he asked after that!)
• "What the crap?!"
• "What the Hades?!"
• "This doesn't happen to me."
• "This is the wrong side of the bed to be on."
• He rubbed his head, and Jeana said, "You still don't have hair." He said something, like, "Darn it."
• He had a really hard time (for a few hours) accepting that it was Wednesday. I probed to get the last thing he remembered, and it was going to bed Sunday night.
• He talked about not liking hospitals and not having been in them (he and Minnie talked about how he'd been in to have tubes in his ears and once when he broke his nose, but how he didn't come in when he broke his sternum because there's nothing they can do for that). So we weren't worried about his long-term memory.
• He kept asking if someone had called work, and I repeatedly explained how I'd called them on Monday and had been communicating with them since. One time, he was specifically concerned about not being there for payroll that had to be run. After a few hours and several repetitions, he started remembering being told that and also remembering (if I prodded him when he asked what happened) being told that he fell in the bathroom - after which he would ask why and more details.
• He said hi to the Bishop, and every minute or two if he looked back over at him, he would say something like, "Oh, hey, Bishop!" Later, he would remember (if it was brought up) that the Bishop was there and even where he had been standing in the room.
• He said "This is a bad dream" and "I'm just waiting to wake up from all of this" several times. Also said he felt like he was in the Twilight Zone two or three times.
• He had pain in his shoulder/side (which we thought was all due to the line in his chest from his collapsed lung, and later found out was also connected to a bubble of air in his lung that can be VERY painful). So he talked about how badly it hurt and then when we mentioned the collapsed lung, he was surprised and frustrated about that all over again each time.
• Throughout the day, each time Jeana returned to his room after an absence, he would act like he hadn't seen her before and was so pleasantly surprised she had driven down.
• He asked several times about the kids and who was watching them.

That day, the physical therapist and his assistant came by to get him out of his bed, and he walked back and forth about 5 feet three times. Dane and Ali came to visit after they'd dropped the kids off, and Will was pretty cheerful and animated with them - when Dane showed him a picture of his new gun and said Will should come shoot it with him sometime, Will immediately quipped, "Well, what are we doing here? Let's go!" Will was in a lot of pain that day, but he seemed pretty distracted from that by how frustrated he was with how he could possibly have suffered cardiac arrest, be in the hospital, and lost two days of his life.

Each night, going home to get the kids fed and to bed was pretty rough, since the kids were so wound up from their day. But it was certainly helpful for them to have us there and maintain a fairly normal bedtime routine. BabyG would say, "Daddy? Daddy?" anytime she was close to our bedroom or if we went in the garage to go anywhere and she saw his red 3000GT. After the kids were down, I headed back over with Alena to spend a little time with Will before returning home for bed. The doctor had spoken to Will about the potential (likely) need for an ICD (internal defibrillator) implant to prevent this from happening again. They had also put him on stronger pain meds, because at some point he had been crying due to the intensity of the pain (but he hates pain meds and was trying to avoid saying anything). The Bishop came by while I was there and gave Will a beautiful blessing, saying that all of this was not to punish him but to allow the Lord to bless him even more. He said that despite that, the feelings of frustration and sorrow were perfectly reasonable and understandable to have. Those are the main things I remember. I said goodnight and left Alena and Minnie with Will to go home and sleep. Before I left, I told Will this might be hard for him to hear because of how much pain he was in and how frustrating the day was, but that this day was the best day of my life.

The next day (Thursday) was taken up with stress tests on his heart and more physical therapy. He was extremely dizzy that day and in a great deal of pain from the chest tube. Around 5PM, the nurse and I were giving Will a sponge bath when Dr. Wang called our room. He had been expecting to come visit Will between 5 and 5:30, but got called in unexpectedly to Timpanogos Regional Hospital and wouldn't be able to make it back until late. He said that Will had passed his stress test, which meant that his heart was strong, and it was much better to have a strong heart with arrhythmia than a weak heart with it. He said Will would need the ICD. He said he would still look at Will's file that we had brought in case anything stood out to him that could connect this to his chronic tendinitis, but he strongly doubted he would find anything. I asked if the investigation of of Will's situation would continue after the ICD implant and quick review of his file, and he basically said no, that the secondary diagnosis (beyond the diagnosis of cardiac arrest due to v-fibrillation) would be something-or-other that meant that there was no known medical cause for the cardiac arrest, and how he'd just had two other patients recently that had that diagnosis or something. I explained how frustrated Will would be to get basically an exclusionary diagnosis out of this, especially with the lack of answers he'd already had from so many doctors about his tendinitis (which showed up out of the blue around 3 years ago when he was healthy and had taken good care of himself). The doctor agreed that there may well be a "unifying cause" to the tendinitis and cardiac arrest, but it was "not known to the medical world" and basically said he was considering Will's case to be closed. In answer to other questions, he said he had already penciled Will in for the ICD surgery the next afternoon, and that Will would likely be able to go home on Saturday. The ICD would track Will's heart rhythm at all times and report it all to Dr. Wang's office so they could track everything going on (so that might possibly teach them something). I was getting emotional (in frustration for Will) as we ended the conversation, and as soon as I hung up I just started crying. Alena, Jeana, and Minnie returned just then and I went on a rant about how sick I was of doctors who stopped investigating as soon as Will's problems didn't fit in their typical cubby-holes of answers. I was really mad that no one cared enough to really go the extra mile and/or try to collaborate with other specialists to figure out what the heck had been going on with Will for years and especially now. It took me a few hours to calm down from that (also venting to my Mom on my drive home to get the kids to bed), but eventually I forced myself to focus on the miracle we had experienced in Will's simply being alive. After the first hour or two of panic on Monday, I hadn't been emotional except for once on Tuesday when I was telling my mom on the phone that I knew Will knew I loved him, and then the time when he was first coming out of the coma. So I was holding my composure for a long time and just holding everything in, and this was the leak that burst that cloud open into a downpour of emotion and tears.

Jeana and I ran home to take care of the kids, and not long before I got back, they finally took the chest line out of Will, and he seemed to be feeling quite a bit better at last. Alena and Jeana headed to the airport to get Kimra and Matt (Will's sister and her husband, who came out earlier than they originally planned for a trip to Idaho, so they could come see Will beforehand). The next morning, while I was getting the kids ready, Alena let me know that the ICD surgery would be late morning or early afternoon (earlier than we had anticipated) and that the doctor had recommended an MRI to check on Will's brain due to his prolonged dizziness and the question of whether he had hit his head during his fall; once his ICD was in, Will would not be able to have an MRI again, so this was his only chance for that. Will was very uncomfortable with the MRI idea, since the machine made him feel VERY claustrophobic, and the procedure would take thirty minutes. I talked to Will for a little over the phone to try to help, but the kids were acting up and I had to leave. I said I supported whatever he wanted to do, but that it sounded like the MRI might be a good idea if he thought he could handle it. Later, Alena texted that he had gone for the MRI and that the bishop had come and given him a blessing. Then, later, she let me know that he was already going in for the ICD surgery before I had even left home (I felt so bad that I wasn't there, and surprised how quickly everything was happening that morning). She said Will was pretty upset because the doctor told him he would not be able to bench press, do push-ups, or do military press for the rest of his life (although other weight lifting and exercises would eventually be fine).

When we finally got to the hospital in the late morning, Bishop was there with Alena and Minnie. Dr. Pearce came in to tell us that the MRI was clear except for a tiny blip that wasn't in an area related to dizziness and was probably just due to recovery from the cardiac arrest/coma. Kimra and Jeana came, and all of us had a nice conversation with each other and the Bishop while we waited for the ICD surgery to finish (about 2 hours). Then Dr. Wang came in to let us know that it had been successful. He reminded us that 97% of people who experience cardiac arrest do not survive, and of the remaining 3%, most do not fully recover - so everything lined up just right to give us the miracle of Will being alive with full recovery. The ICD would ensure that this would never happen again (he would almost certainly not survive a repeat incident), as it would sense an arrhythmia and immediately shock his heart back to life (feeling like a kick in the chest from a horse) if it ever occurred again.

We went back to see Will, and he was very groggy and tired. That was Matt and Kimra's first chance to see him, though, so we visited for a bit. Then, they had everyone but me leave so Will could get some rest. Other than Tuesday, I didn't really spend too much downtime journaling - it was almost a full-time job responding to texts, comments on status messages, phone calls, etc. And then remembering to make updates on Facebook, since everyone was anxious to hear news each day. Sometimes I laid my head on Will's leg or on the arm of his hospital bed and dozed a bit. When everyone returned, we had a fun visit all together in Will's room (there were six of us besides Will - so much for two at a time!). 

Alena, me, Minnie, Will, Kimra, Matt, and Jeana

Matt, Will, Bishop

Kimra, Matt and Jeana eventually left for Idaho, and later, Dr. Wang came in and talked to Will about how the surgery went, and said they would put him on beta blockers to make sure his heart rate never spiked in an anxious/heated situation - at least for the first few weeks. Will cannot raise his arm past the elbow and cannot pick up more than 10 lbs (so no carrying kids!) for 4-6 weeks. He has to be approved to do any type of exercise. He can't linger around metal/security detectors and will have to carry an ICD card with him everywhere - he can't be wanded by airport security personnel. He can't talk on a cell phone with his left ear, and can't work under the hood of a running vehicle. Any time he gets a shock he needs to call the doctor's office as soon as he can (or first thing the next morning if they are closed). Anytime he gets more than one shock in a day, he needs to go to the ER to get checked out. 

On Saturday, I headed over to the hospital to (I thought) pick up Will and bring him home. However, I walked into his room just in time to hear the doctor tell him they would keep him overnight again, since (a) he was still pretty dizzy and not completely steady on his feet, (b) he wasn't strong enough still, and (c) they had to switch him to an oral antibiotic (instead of the one through the IV), so they want to make sure he can tolerate that before sending him home. It was definitely wise, even though Will was disappointed. So he had one last walk around the ICU with the PTs, and a last nap while I worked on journaling, and then they moved him to the telemetry floor (so he wouldn't be so connected everywhere and could move around more). He was pretty wiped out by the time they got him situated, then I ordered him some lunch and he rested on and off for the afternoon. 

Almost all day, I typed away on my iPad. It ended up being a huge blessing for me to have this extra day in the hospital, since if Will had come home Saturday, I would be up with the kids all day and would have to try to fit journaling in late at night or early in the morning. It could have taken a week or two to get through the whole experience, and I would likely forget more and more each day. So even if this extra day was simply an answer to my prayer that morning that I'd be able to remember details for recording this experience for our family, I consider that worth the minor inconvenience/disappointment! 

Journaling - it was chilly in his room!

On Will's second PT walk of the day (the first on the 5th floor), the PTs showed us a huge storm coming in with lightning, thunder, and high winds. When we got back to his room, we saw that the storm was literally coming in our window, with big fat raindrops falling on the sill and getting the floor wet. They found out that all the windows on our side of the building (which wasn't shielded by another tall building next to it) were leaking. Nice! We didn't mind...we Cosmans like ourselves a good storm!

Unfortunately, though, we found out Sunday morning that the "good storm" had flooded several homes on our hill. Many of our ward members were serving selflessly again that morning, this time helping fill sandbags and assisting these other families with the damage that had occurred. Will and I did not get home until around 1:30 in the afternoon.

Going Home Today!

Ready to Leave!

No, Will isn't smiling...that's a wince, as BabyG is right on his sore shoulder here.

The kids were so happy to see their dad again, but Will was so exhausted and still in a lot of pain. Minnie and Alena had talked to LG about how he would need to "take care of Daddy," so LG set right to work getting Will covered in his (LG's) favorite soft, blue blanket and making sure he had water to drink. I was hit by an overwhelming feeling, similar to bringing a newborn home from the hospital - worried I would not be able to keep everything together. The Relief Society jumped right in and set up meals for three more days, and volunteers watched LG for a couple hours on the days when he didn't have preschool so that I could get a short break each day. That first week, Will stayed home and recuperated; the week after, he put in a part-time week, and this past week, he was back pretty much full-time.

Things have mostly normalized now (Will still has to sleep on the LazyBoy at night since it hurts too much to lie all the way down, and he is still tired and uncomfortable most of the day), and looking back on all of this, I just shake my head that it actually happened. It feels like a bad dream. But it did happen, it has changed us in so many ways, and I know it will be important to look back on this experience frequently - both personally, and as a family. I plan on printing out all my status messages and the accompanying comments of love and support, combining those with printed pictures and several of the cards and notes we received, and making a little book of remembrance that will sit in our family room. As I mentioned on Facebook, every year on September 4th, we will celebrate William's "Second Birth"-day and give thanks for Heavenly Father's mercies in bringing him back to us. 

In meeting and talking with the paramedics and officers who saved Will's life, and in (slowly!) distributing thank you's to as many of the people that we can who helped and supported us through this trial, I have been amazed all over again at how many blessings we have received. So many people did things they may have thought were little or not significant, but it truly added up to be a massive demonstration of love and service. Even the people who weren't local sent their messages of prayers and concern via text, email, and Facebook, and every single one of those lifted our spirits as well. It is hard to fully capture all of this without experiencing it, I imagine, but I hope these posts have given you a taste of it. No one can go through what I have gone through and not know that he or she has a loving Father in Heaven who has a plan for each of us. I don't know why we received all of these miracles when so many more stories that begin similarly end with tragedy. I have had two uncles die at young ages in tragic circumstances, and I shudder to realize how close I came to being on my own on this earth with two young children. But even then, I knew then and I know now that I would not have really been "on my own." None of us is ever actually alone. I don't know if Stephen Sondheim believes in God, but his lyrics to "No One is Alone" from Into the Woods touch my heart with truth. I will leave you with them, thanking you for taking the time to read this very long story:

Mother cannot guide you.
Now you're on your own.
Only me beside you.
Still, you're not alone.
No one is alone. Truly.
No one is alone.
Sometimes people leave you
Halfway through the wood.
Others may deceive you.
You decide what's good.
You decide alone.
But no one is alone.

Mother isn't here now
Who knows what she'd say?
Nothing's quite so clear now.
Feel you've lost your way?
You are not alone.
Believe me,
No one is alone

You move just a finger,
Say the slightest word,
Something's bound to linger,
Be heard.
No acts alone.
Careful.
No one is alone.
People make mistakes.
Fathers, Mothers,
People make mistakes,
Holding to their own,
Thinking they're alone.
Honor their mistakes,
Everybody makes--
One another's terrible mistakes.
Witches can be right, Giants can be good.
You decide what's right; you decide what's good
Just remember:
Someone is on your side (our side),
Someone else is not.
While we're seeing our side,
Maybe we forgot: they are not alone.
No one is alone.
Hard to see the light now.
Just don't let it go
Things will come out right now.
We can make it so.
Someone is on your side,
No one is alone.

This Sickness is Not Unto Death - Part 2

"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." James 1:27

I want to focus Part 2 on the immense outpouring of love and service we received throughout this experience. (Part 3 will cover Will's waking up.) The above scripture perfectly captures how I feel about my ward (local congregation). Or, more accurately, what our ward has done helped me to understand this scripture so much better. People in the LDS Church often refer to their ward as their "ward family" -- that term will never mean the same thing to me again. I want to clarify that I do not think this kind of reaction to someone in need is exclusive to the LDS Church - nor that every ward in the LDS Church would necessarily demonstrate such overwhelming support (though I believe the large majority would). Regardless of religion, however, pondering on my experience makes me wonder what I do when the proverbial rubber meets the road; when others around me are in need (of any nature), how do I respond? And my response prior to this experience may have been very different than it will be in the future, since I know that if I don't let the love I experienced change me fundamentally, then miracles have been wasted.

The afternoon of that day (still on Labor Day) was spent taking visits to Will's room (only two of us were permitted in there at a time usually) and talking in the family consultation room. Our neighbor, K, who had been watching our kids, brought A and BabyG in the late afternoon so that I could nurse BabyG, who had never been away from me that long during the day before and was understandably distraught. K told us that our bishop's daughters had come over to help her watch the kids. She said her phone almost immediately started ringing off the hook with people calling to ask how they could help. One sister on the phone overheard K talking to the kids about putting batteries in a toy that LG wanted to play with, and she told K, "I am at the store -- what kind of batteries do you need? I will bring them over." While BabyG nursed at the hospital, our neighbor took out a notebook and got more information about our kids' different allergies and what we typically fed them. People had signed up to bring us dinner each night through Friday, and to watch our kids (all four of them together, in AM and PM shifts) through Friday (including K's volunteering to pick LG up on Tuesday and Thursday from his AM sitter to take him to preschool, and returning him to his PM sitter afterwards - having to put his car seat in her car with all of that both times!), as well. We ended up packing lunches to take with the kids each day, and the dinners brought to us were gluten-free for Celiacs (Alena and her girls), and dairy/peanut free for LG and BabyG. We were an extremely difficult combination of dietary restrictions to follow! All the meals were delicious and filling, and we had leftovers each day to contribute to the kids' lunches for the following day.

Around 5, we went home to get the kids fed and to bed. Our home teacher had told me before he left us at the hospital that he left the back door unlocked and the Relief Society may or may not have come in and cleaned our house, noting with a smile, "I can't be held responsible for any of that." When we got home, the entire house had been tidied; toys put away, counters cleared, beds made pristinely. I think they did laundry. They scrubbed all three bathrooms from top to bottom. They organized the fridge! They took out the trash. They cleaned the microwave inside and out, and cleaned the stove. I was just amazed and so humbled at this significant gesture. I had been told that our neighbor across the street had been over to our house within 10 minutes of our leaving and was taking care of weeds in the driveway, and that the Young Men and their leaders showed up soon after and mowed and cared for the front and back yards. When we had gotten out of Alena's van, the same neighbor from across the street pulled me aside and noted that several men had talked about wanting to work together to finish the playset area of the backyard that Will had been working on; he told me to think (when I had time) about what we'd want done there and to let him know. After all of the ordeal was over, this neighbor came over to talk to Will and told him not to worry about our lawn care for the rest of the season; he has been over here on various days, mowing the yard, treating for weeds, and working on our sprinklers. Several ward members have come over in the past week or two to work on the playset in the backyard.

Back to Monday night: a feast waited for us on the kitchen table. Chicken, cut-up watermelon that was so sweet it tasted like candy (BabyG inhaled that stuff!), hot corn on the cob, cut-up fresh fruit, fresh grapes and peaches from someone's garden, I think 3 dozen cookies (not kidding) of four different varieties. In addition, there were cut-up veggies in the fridge, a honeydew melon, an extra jug of almond milk, a giant package of hotdogs for the kids (with buns also on the kitchen table). The love this all demonstrated was so humbling.

I took melatonin (we'd given some to the kids) in hopes that it would help me sleep that night, but my racing mind was stronger than the medication, and ended up just making my heart feel weird while I spent an almost-sleepless night replaying all of the events of the day in my head.

Tuesday morning, our next door neighbor dropped by a tupperware full of freshly made quinoa, a pseudo-grain that is OK for celiacs. This neighbor had woken up with a feeling that she should make this for us, and had had the impression to leave it unseasoned. This small act meant more to our family than she could possibly have known; to Alena, it was heaven-sent comfort food for herself and her daughters, and she had enough to season some with salt/pepper for her girls' chicken for lunch, and do the rest with sugar/cinnamon for breakfast. These tender mercies were frequent reminders that the Lord was aware of us and was bringing us comfort.

That day, I spent several hours typing up most of Monday's events on my iPad next to Will's hospital bed as he remained in his coma, seemingly dozens of cords and tubes coming out of him, his hands (of course) ice cold, and periodic beepings sounding from his various monitors. He had what seemed like six or seven different bags of fluids hooked up to him that the nurses periodically had to change out. The doctors told us that at 3PM (the 24-hr mark) they would begin slowly warming his body back up, a quarter of a degree per hour, until he would reach normal body temperature at about 7AM the following morning. At that time, they would take him off sedation and the paralytic and see what would happen. They reminded us to keep our expectations low, since it well could be several days before he would actually move at all (let alone wake up and talk to us). Ali, our cousin, went to our house to get the kids fed with the dinner that had been brought over, and I met her there afterwards to help get them to bed. LG was so excited to tell me about his first day of preschool -- he had some paperwork to show me from his book bag, and he was excited for Thursday when he could go back.

This picture was taken at my request by LG's morning sitter before he left for preschool, since Will and I missed that milestone

I brought some dinner back to the hospital (Ali stayed at the house) for Minnie and Alena and saw that Jeana (another of Will's sisters) had arrived from Idaho in my absence. She is a nurse, and was extremely helpful in getting information we needed or making things happen to help Will (and the rest of us!) stay comfortable. We decided to all go home and get some sleep that night, since they would wake Will up early in the morning and it would be a major day for all of us. So we left the hospital I think close to midnight and headed home.

Other acts of service and kindness that we have received throughout this experience:

- I think within a couple hours, our names were submitted (probably several times over!) to prayer rolls at dozens of different temples. These, along with what must have been thousands of prayers being said for us throughout the country (and beyond), created an almost tangible blanket of warmth around us, especially on Monday and Tuesday when things would otherwise have been so frightening. I felt anesthetized to fear or hopelessness; instead, my emotions rode calmly on a smooth course -- never letting my hopes get up too high, but at the same time never feeling despair or entertaining any "what if" scenarios. The phrase "perfect love casteth out all fear" (Moroni 8:16) has since come to my mind, and I have realized that that "perfect love" does not necessarily need to originate from within oneself, but can also be manifested TO a person and remove fear just as effectively.

- Our bishop came to the hospital several times to check on Will and all of us. His visits were never just "dropping in" - he stayed at least an hour each time.

- Around Friday or Saturday, the Relief Society president texted me to see if there was anything else at all that I needed. I was running low on bananas, and babyfood for BabyG, and asked if she or someone wouldn't mind picking up some for us at the store. She accepted with enthusiasm, and the asked-for items were on our kitchen table that evening.

- Will's and my employers sent lovely flowers and cards, and even stuffed animals for LG and BabyG. So thoughtful!

- After Will was home and recuperating, ward members signed up for three more days of meals and child-watching to help me ease back into normalcy.

- Will's cousin, Merrill, flew out from Florida to spend time with him when he was home recuperating.

- An angelic couple made a short visit to our home that included an unexpected and incredibly generous financial gift to assist with medical expenses. We were blown away.

- Just last week (when things have really calmed down), a sister in our ward dropped by a meal to our house. She had not been assigned or received any request to do so, but just wanted to help and figured it would make life easier for me (which it did!). That gesture touched me so deeply. Even yesterday, another sister brought over a fresh-baked loaf of bread.

"And it came to pass that he said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon (for thus were they called) and now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; 

"Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life—

"Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?

"And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts." Mosiah 18:8-11 (emphasis added)

This Sickness is Not Unto Death - Part 1

"This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby." John 11:4

Family Picture, taken by Ann Caballero. 6/6/13

Monday morning, September 2nd, started out like a normal holiday-type day. I got up and nursed BabyG (age 16 months), then fed her some breakfast. LG (age 3.5) woke up, and Alena's kids (Alena is Will's older sister; her kids staying with us were A, age 8, and D, age 4) came up from the basement, and for a little while I sat with BabyG on my lap and the rest of the kids next to me and we watched cute cat and puppy shows on YouTube. LG and Alena's girls then went into his room to play, and I carried BabyG down the hall to do something in her room (turn off her fan? close her door? Don't know). I was going to shut the door to Will's and my room so he wouldn't hear the kids across the hall, but I peeked in and saw his eyes open. So I carried BabyG in and tucked us under the covers next to Will for a cuddle. She laid her head down on both of us in her characteristically affectionate way. I asked Will what our plan should be that day, and I think he responded with a "what do you think?" kind of response. We didn't have an opportunity to discuss it more, because tired BabyG had a very limited attention span for cuddling. So I got up and started her naptime routine. 

After she was down, I warmed up a leftover pancake for LG and got him eating. At some point, I went back in to our room to cuddle with William again (thank goodness), but hearing D repeatedly tell LG, "Leave me ALONE!," I figured I'd better head back to the kitchen to keep the peace. Back in the kitchen, I worked on making a fresh batch of maple syrup, and put some on a couple pancakes for myself. It was around 9:45AM, and I think I was just getting ready to do dishes, or pour the syrup into a canning jar or something, when I heard Will make a noise from the hall bathroom and then heard a very big thud. The noise he made sounded like he might have tripped on something that hurt badly (he had just tripped on Sunday on an alphabet magnet the kids had left on the floor in the kitchen), but the thud definitely sounded like a bad fall, so I ran in, saying, "Are you okay?"

My mind (as of writing this all down initially, which was the following day) has already started to block out the memory of that entire time by his side. It gets progressively harder to picture it and re-live it, so it is vital that I try to get it down before it's gone. Will was on his back, his legs and feet folded awkwardly next to the bathroom counter, his head just over the threshold into the hallway. He was looking behind his shoulder to the right. I don't remember what I said, but I was talking to him as if he would respond normally any second--I thought he'd just had a bad fall and was temporarily stunned. But as each moment passed, I noticed more. He was groaning/moaning oddly, his hands were stiffly and awkwardly pulled up by his shoulders, and he wouldn't look at me (though his eyes were open). He was writhing slowly, and at one point tried to pull himself up towards me. My questions to him quickly turned more manic and I think I started shouting at him to tell me what was going on. Still no response, still not looking at me but up behind his right shoulder. I finally realized how serious his situation was and started shouting at A (who was at the kitchen table eating breakfast) to go get Alena and have her call 911. I called that once or twice, then yelled for someone to get my phone on the coffee table (since I couldn't hear any response to what I was saying). I knew I should just jump up and go get it myself, but I was glued to Will's side and couldn't find the will power to tear myself away, even for a moment. Then Will started turning blue all over his face and moving less and less. I kept yelling for help, and then Alena was there in her garments, phone in hand. 

She took one look at Will and she was very pale and scared, but she was calm. She got on the line with the dispatcher, and said we needed 911 here right away. Around this time, Will seemed to sigh and just be gone. Alena held up the phone to my ear for me to give our address, which I had to do two separate times. I was sitting by Will's right side in the entryway of the bathroom. He then took a big breath in, followed by a long, long pause, then another breath. Alena described what was going on to the dispatcher, who had her count in between breaths (she got to the count of 9).

I had just recertified in CPR less than a year ago. I knew I should be doing something, but I just had no presence of mind. I was in complete disbelief that any of this could be happening; Will was absolutely fine just seconds ago, and here he was, looking like he was dead. I had thoughts racing through my head about suddenly becoming a widow, being left alone with two small children, and not having Will there with me to raise them. Especially with some of the harder trials I'd recently been experiencing with parenthood, I knew I was in no way ready to be put in that position.

A had let LG out of his high chair and he came over, close enough to see everything going on, but keeping his distance out of fear. He was especially bothered at my behavior, I could tell. He was still in his monkey jammies, with his green rubber bib still on. He was asking what was going on, and I was trying to get him to go in the other room so he didn't have to see all of this. He jumped up and down, whining in protest, refusing to leave. Alena leaned over and gave Will a breath - his chest rose with no resistance whatsoever. I asked if I should do compressions, and she and I were getting started with that when Minnie (Will's mom) answered the front door for the police, saying we were down the hallway. I called them over, and they had us move out of the way. I could hear an ambulance siren on its way, and thought fleetingly how I'd never had an ambulance come to my house in my whole life. Everything felt like an awful nightmare that couldn't possibly be actually happening.

Minnie had run downstairs to get her clothes on and grab some for Alena. She gave Alena's clothes to her, and I picked up LG and Alena had us go into LG's room just across the hall from where the police were working on Will. Alena said a prayer, and I finally started crying. LG told me forcefully to stop crying, and I tried to explain that I was very scared. At some point, I started hearing BabyG whining in her crib from the next room (I am sure my yells for Alena earlier must have woken her). Alena told me to stay away from what was going on, so I walked around the room with LG.

Looking out LG's window, I noticed two police cars parked outside our house, one double-parked next to the other behind our truck near the sidewalk. Either just before or while I was watching, the ambulance and a firetruck pulled up in the road in front of our driveway. Some neighbors were already coming towards our house (I would mention names, but I don't want to leave anyone out. I can recall eight specific individuals, but there may have been more). One of them saw me through the window and asked if I was okay. I opened the window and told them briefly that Will had fallen and wasn't breathing. She asked what they could do, and I just blurted out, "Pray!" She or someone asked if he needed a blessing, and I nodded furiously.

During all of this, the officers had taken Will out into the family room, shoving the coffee table out of the way so they could work on him. The officers, by the way, had jumped right into taking over CPR from Alena, which we heard later from one of the paramedics who arrived on the scene is quite unusual for them to do the CPR as rigorously as it needs to be done. He said these officers saved Will's life. Alena said they were "taking [Will] to the floor" with the CPR. The fire department brought in a defibrillator and shocked Will four times before they got him back. We were later told that they normally don't work on someone as long as they did on Will.

Officers Uipi (left) and Newell (right)

Paramedic Firefighter Devan Tandy, Will, Fire Captain Jeremy Millet, and Alena. Not pictured are Paramedic Firefighters Chad Frisby and Kagen Knudsen - we'll try to get a picture with them later!

Alena told me they were getting ready to take Will to the hospital, and that I should get dressed. She also said one of the neighbors would be taking all of our kids so they could stay together, so to get everything we needed for them. I brought LG into my room, threw on some clothes, and brushed my teeth. Then we crossed back into LG's room and Minnie and I changed him out of his jammies. We had to have officer permission/escort to move around the house, and tried to gather BabyG's diapers, diaperbag, my keys/wallet, some baby food. I think I already had picked BabyG up from her crib by then. I tried to explain to LG that he was going to go play with his cousins while I went to the hospital with daddy. He asked me, "Why did William fall down?" I think he used Will's name in an attempt to be brave and grown-up amid all the confusion.

When we came outside, the ambulance had already taken Will away. Our neighbor took the kids and we confirmed that we wanted all of them kept together, so that A could look out for the little ones, and so that they all had each other for familiarity.

All the kids at Jungle Jim's in Murray - 8/7/2013

G and A at my grandparents' cabin - late June 2013

LG and D at my grandparents' cabin - late June 2013

 I was hugged and loved by neighbor after neighbor after neighbor, sobbing into each one's shoulder, regaining composure, then sobbing again with the next one. I felt loved and supported and scared and shocked. I tried calling my mom (10:22AM). Then we (Alena, Minnie, and I) said a prayer together and headed over to the hospital. As we drove away, I could see our Relief Society president talking with some of the sisters - I didn't realize at the time that they were probably already game-planning and organizing the immense charity about to be poured out freely upon the Cosman household.

The hospital is only about a 4-5 minute drive (from garage to parking spot) from our house. We parked outside the ER and went in, quickly met by the social worker (so kind!) and joined by two of our male neighbors, dressed in Sunday clothes and prepared to give whatever blessings were needed (they had not been permitted in the house and had been told to meet us at the ER). Our bishop came soon thereafter, and then my brother, Wilson, arrived. We waited for some time for them to let us see Will in the ER. I made phonecalls to my brother, Bryce, to inform my parents (after trying them and not reaching them) and other siblings, then called Will's work and my work. Our neighbors and bishop gave me a blessing before Wilson arrived, and within an hour of that I was no longer feeling panicky and was able to calm down and breathe.

When they finally let us in to see Will, it was probably after 11 or 11:30. He was shaking ALL OVER - as if he were being electrocuted. The doctor was telling us things (no memory of what besides that Will had suffered cardiac arrest), and finally let me take Will's hand and talk to him. I told him I was here, and to try to relax and stay with us. He just was shaking and shaking like crazy. He pulled my hand in close to his chest, which made me catch my breath and cry, "Oh, I love you, William!" - I told the doctors that later and they said it was probably just a reflex, but Alena and others with me saw it happen and know otherwise. The doctor pulled Minnie, Alena and me out to tell us he was going to try to take Will off sedation to see if he could respond to some commands, and if Will did not, they would have to cool his body (into a coma, to protect his brain and heart and give them time to recover) for 24 hours. While we were out with the doctor, Wilson gave Will a blessing, which I was told (since I wasn't in the room) included saying that Will would be comforted to whatever degree he was conscious of what was happening, and that he would make a quick and full recovery if it was the Lord's will (thank you, Wilson!). Alena and I hung back from the others returning to the waiting room as they took Will off sedation, and I heard the doctor shout at him, "Will, open your eyes!" Alena hung back longer than I did, and I asked her when we got back to the waiting room if she could tell if Will had responded, and she said she didn't think so because she heard them talk about starting the cooling process.

One of our home teachers had joined us by then and let me know he was there to be our errand runner for the day. He asked if he could get us some food, and I wasn't even sure how to answer. He asked, "when did you last eat?" and I said I did have breakfast. He was such an angel--I don't recall the sequencing, but he took three separate trips just while we were in the ER waiting room: one to get us food, one to get our cell phone chargers at the house, and one to get Will's medical history, a few medications he might have taken recently, and my iPad from the house.

Eventually, they took us (Alena, Minnie, Bishop, Wilson, and me, joined later by our home teacher) up to the waiting room for the ICU. We met there with two heart doctors - Dr. Pearce, who works on the "plumbing" side of cardiac issues, and Dr. Wang, who works on the "electrical" side. They said Will's problem was definitely electrical. Dr. Wang sat down and asked us a lot of questions about what happened and potential causes for what had occurred. At some point, Dr. Pearce came in and let us know that a chest x-ray had shown that Will's left lung had collapsed, and they needed to take care of that right away. It may have occurred from the CPR, or from when they put the central line in (it might have gone in too far and punctured his lung), but that it was a serious problem and needed to be addressed right away. I gave verbal consent, and he returned after the procedure was finished and had me sign off on the consent paperwork.

I am going to close this first part of our story with some thoughts on ways I knew (along with Alena and Minnie), even at this time, that the Lord's hand was guiding this entire situation.

- Having Minnie and Alena staying with us during the time of this emergency was a godsend. I certainly hope I would have shaken myself out of my paralysis by Will's side in the bathroom to call 911 and start CPR, but precious seconds would have been lost that may well have made the difference between life and death (I am grateful I never have to find out what would have happened). Minnie had been in Utah (visiting from Indiana) since late July, visiting us, Alena, and her own sisters. She was most recently staying with Alena in Stansbury Park, and Alena and I had texted about getting together over Labor Day weekend. On Thursday, Alena let me know they wanted to come down Friday night and just stay at our house the whole weekend, if that was okay with us. Of course, we were delighted, and when she mentioned she would bring A and D, I had no qualms; we'd had a vacation and playdates together, and so our kids all knew each other and got along pretty well. I found out later that Minnie had felt impressed to come. And that Alena asked if Minnie wanted some time alone with us, but Minnie felt Alena should be there. And that Alena didn't want to bring her kids but felt she should. All feelings were inspired ones. Having A there was crucial to calm BabyG at other people's houses, since BabyG had never been away from me for more than a couple hours during the day. And besides what could have happened to Will, it was such a blessing to have immediate hugs and support inside my house, since the policemen were forbidding anyone else from entering.

- The fact that this happened on a holiday, when everyone was home and available to help us out.

- The police officers were probably at our house within five minutes of Will's falling. Like I said earlier, one of the paramedics told us how lucky we were to get officers that performed CPR with the rigor needed. In addition, the paramedics were there very quickly afterwards and were extremely prepared and well-trained.

- Talking in the hospital, Alena pointed out that she heard the sound of Will falling in the bathroom from where she and Minnie were downstairs, but that if I hadn't called A to go get her, she would have just attributed it to kids horsing around. This made me realize that Will might well have fallen in our bedroom, or our master bathroom, where I might not have heard it happen or realized how serious it was. Or, he might have had the cardiac arrest occur while he was lying in bed. In any of those cases, it likely would have been too late to save him once I would have found him.

- Each night before bed, I read a General Conference talk in conjunction with my scripture study. I just go through talks from the most recent conference sequentially, and before I clicked the "Next" button from the previous day's talk on my iPad, I knew without a doubt in my mind that it would be something that would directly apply to my situation and bring me comfort. Sure enough, it was a talk by Elder Quentin L. Cook on finding peace through disastrous circumstances. For those who missed it, I used the following quote in my Facebook status that evening to update our friends and loved ones on what had occurred: ""Peace is not just safety or lack of war, violence, conflict, and contention. Peace comes from knowing that the Savior knows who we are and knows that we have faith in Him, love Him, and keep His commandments, even and especially amid life's devastating trials and tragedies."

Will must still have an important purpose to fulfill in this lifetime, and this needed to occur for God to be able to change us in the ways we need to be changed (since we will never be the same!). As I posted on Facebook that evening, He made sure I knew He was involved in this from the start, which gave me so much peace along with all the other blessings I received throughout this ordeal (which I'll detail more in Part 2). That night, in my personal prayer before bed, I prayed that Will would be healed, but if not, that we would all have the strength to endure the trial ahead.

Will and Minnie in the ICU

I read this scripture in 3 Nephi 22 (verses 6-8) the week after all of this occurred, and it hit me like a ton of bricks:

"For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God. For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer."