Thankful for Brooklyn: Updates from Spain!

Happy Thanksgiving, all! On this day of gratitude, I'd like to express how thankful we are for our Hermana Wheeler and the love she shows God and the world by serving the people of Spain.

I've been meaning to do this forever, but wanted to share the emails she's sent since leaving for her mission. I was going to share all (she's been seving for 21 weeks), but think I will divide it into five week chunks. We love and miss our girl so much! Enjoy!

Weeks 1 and 2: Gozo

Hola amigos!

Welcome to Hermana Wheeler's mission email list. I feel like the way I would hope to describe these updates is the same way I would describe the Mission Training Center (MTC) : crazy, chaotic, and spiritually strengthening.

I've decided that since I'm going to Spain, I'm going to teach you all a word in Spanish every week. This week, I want to talk about gozo. Gozo means joy. For the last two weeks, I have learned how to find real joy and rejoicing in the gospel. I've explained to some of you that that's the real reason I'm serving a mission (it's not the churros, believe it or not). The gospel, the atonement of Jesus Christ, and repentance bring so much peace and joy into my life every single day. They help me to know that I have worth, am infinitely loved by a divine father in heaven, and can be forgiven for my mistakes and grow to be a better person. I am so privileged to have that knowledge, and I want to share that gift with everyone I have the chance to meet in Spain (and hopefully, a little with you all too!).

Leaving my family this week is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but it's also such a privilege to get to serve the Lord all day, every day. Because I'm a missionary, I'm learning all about invitations, so I'm going to practice by giving one to all of you: find the gozo in your life. Find the joy in Christ if He's someone you believe in, or our incredible world or the people around you. Find joy in your family, and give them a hug if you can. I know the light's always there if you want to find it.

Usually this is the point where I'd send funny stories, scriptures and photos but I'm out of time so that will have to come next week. God loves you and so do I!!

Love,
Hermana Wheeler

Week 3: Gozo

Hola everyone!!

How's life back in the normal world? It feels like the MTC is just a bunch of teenagers playing dress up as missionaries, but I better get used to it pretty quick, because guess what? I am headed to Spain on Tuesday!! I picked up my Visa on Wednesday and as far as I know, I'm set to go!

Life in the MTC is crazy busy, but super rewarding. Every day, I wake up at 6:30 and go work out with my beast of a companion Hermana Zuñiga. She's so strong, patient with me, and she inspires me to work hard and push myself out of my comfort zone. As a side effect, I don't remember what it feels like to not be sore. Then we go shower, change, and get ready. Thus begins the mad rush to eat breakfast, plan out the day, study in the scriptures for an hour on my own, study for half an hour with my comp, and complete the never-ending list of invitations, workshops, memorizations, and errands. We don't always hit everything perfectly, but we do our best.

Lunch is a riot, especially eating with my district. My district (classmates) are mostly native-Spanish speakers and all legendary, though we're also pretty ridiculous. The guys usually end up beat boxing and challenging everyone to freestyle rap contests. Hermana Pursglove is the reigning champ. Then comes class, dinner, and more class. My teachers are amazing and I'm really coming to love Preach My Gospel and searching for answers in the Book of Mormon.

Today's word of the week comes from a question I had been struggling with for pretty much all my time in the MTC. As a missionary, I have very high expectations for myself. I literally wear the name of Jesus Christ on my nametag, and that privilege comes with a lot of responsibility. I feel like I often really struggle to be as obedient, spiritual, and diligent as I want to be, and I'm insecure about my shortcomings in those areas. At the same time, I know I'm not as humble and willing to trust in the Lord as I should be. How do we learn to be humble, not insecure, but at the same time confident, and not prideful? A couple verses that really helped me are Alma 26:11-12:

11 But Ammon said unto him: I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; but behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God.
12 Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever.

Humility doesn't mean fear. It doesn't mean I consider myself incapable of accomplishing anything, or insufficient to do the work of the Lord. It means I recognize that my strength comes from God, that without Him I am nothing, but with Him I can do anything. So, this week, I'm relying on confianza. Confianza means both confidence and trust. I am trusting in the Lord and having confidence in His ability to shape me into the missionary He wants me to be. I know that as you all have trust in God, he will give you the strength and confidence you need to get through whatever you're going through.

I am so grateful for the MTC and everything everyone here does to help us missionaries prepare to serve and teach. I'm grateful for the funny moments, like the day when all the sisters dressed up in black pants and white shirts and pretended to be elders and when the entire dorm of girls did a curly hair routine on Hermana Gibby. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to go to Spain and share my testimony, and I'm so grateful to all of you for supporting me in my journey! Thank you so much!!

Te quiero bastante,
Hermana Wheeler

Week 4: Consuelo

Hola, ¿qué tal?!

This is it!! The first email from Spain! It feels like forever since the last time I wrote, and there's a lot to catch up on, so I'll get straight to it.

The last few days at the MTC were absolutely insane! Honestly, being in the field feels totally chill compared to it. We went to the temple Friday and Saturday, and then I spent Sunday and Monday playing crowd control since my incredible companion was the most popular missionary on campus after singing at devotional Sunday afternoon. Saying goodbye to my district and teachers was teary, packing was a drag, and we were off to the airport at 3:30 am Tuesday!

Getting 2 elders, 11 sisters, and approximately 39 suitcases on and off a bus, frontrunner, and a train without leaving anyone or anything behind was a little terrifying, but I think we pulled it off. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of JFK airport. When we finally arrived in Madrid around 8:00 Wednesday morning, we realized that 9 missionary suitcases (including both of mine) hadn't made it onto our new plane after the layover in New York. My first two hours in Spain were spent with a customer service agent sorting out that entire mess. A million thanks to my parents for the 7 years of dual immersion Spanish, seriously.

When we finally managed to make it through customs with a promise our bags would be in Spain the next day, we walked right into the Madrid North Mission welcome party. From there was a whirlwind of meeting the mission leaders, dropping bags at the office, paperwork, packing lunches, and shuttling right into the center of Madrid. It made me so happy to be back in Europe with the narrow, windy streets and gorgeous buildings. What made me less happy was that it was the hottest day of the summer so far, but we got chocolate and churros anyway. HIGHLY recommend.

After doing a little sightseeing, President Eastland took us into this big square and told us it was time for our very first street contacting session. Street contacts, or "calles" in Spanish, are where you start conversations with random people on the street with the goal of sharing your testimony, a gospel principle, and an invitation to meet with missionaries. In other words, I was scared silly. The sister training leader I was with knew I already spoke Spanish, so she made me go first. Guess what happened though! I got immediately rejected. However, I also realized that being rejected would not kill me and that if you talk to enough people, eventually you find some that do want to hear what you have to say.

Wednesday night was interviews with the mission president, and then Thursday we met our trainers and got our assignments!! This is where it gets crazy. My trainer is Hermana Herbst and she's an absolute legend. She's 15 months in, so I will likely be her last companion.

I live in southwest Madrid in Leganés, so I won't be escaping the heat any time soon. I also don't really have a specific area. I'm being trained as a JA (pronunciation: ha) Hermana, so I work with the jovenes adultos or young adults of basically the whole Madrid West stake. It means that instead of proselyting or teaching lessons, I work with less active members and go to all the activities and such. Honestly, I feel like I'm having way to much fun.

Friday we went to volleyball in Carabanchel and came home soaked to the bone because people starting throwing buckets of water on everyone, and then Saturday was a big party in Alcorcón for Peruvian Independence day. Yesterday I went to 3 sessions of church and a bunch of meetings, so we definitely stay on our feet.

This week's word is consuelo. Consuelo means comfort, and I most use it in the context of something that is given. This week, Christ has given me comfort. My first night in Spain I felt like I was shaking for hours because I was so terrified that I wouldn't be able to do what was asked of me. That first street contact kind of left me reeling, but in that moment where I felt so vulnerable, I started seeing all the ways in which God has been in the details of my life, watching out for me. I can count the tender mercies of consuelo He sent my way.

First of all, I had one change of clothes in my carry on bag, and then my second day I was able to go through piso trash (clothes left in missionary apartments) to find another outfit. Right after walking through Madrid, we went to temple grounds and then I got assigned to a zone where I can attend a temple session this transfer. I got to take the sacrament not once, but three times yesterday. I already speak Spanish! The young adults are so friendly, and they love the missionaries. I got to go to the Prado art museum today, and a member from Arizona we ran into at a restaurant insisted on buying our lunch. Food is soo much cheaper than I expected. My companion and I are even exact birthday buddies a year apart! I can testify that if you count your blessings, you'll see the hand of the Lord in your life.

I hope you're all doing well!! Sorry for the essay of an email.

Best,
Hermana Wheeler

Week 5: Sencillo

Hola hola!!

How are you all? I just finished my first month as a missionary and holy cow it's going so fast! 17 months still feels so long but I know it'll be over before I know it.

Highlights from this week:

On Tuesday I had exchanges with my amazing stepmother Hermana Turner! Basically, President Eastland wants to make sure I know how to do normal missionary work as well as the young adult assignment while I'm training, so every week Hermana Herbst and I are going to swap companions with the hermanas who live with us. Exchanges this week consisted of mostly studies and contacts though so it wasn't crazy different.

Wednesday I did my first door knocking (well, doorbell ringing) and we found addresses for a couple inactive members! Definitely not as scary as I anticipated.

We went to Villalba on Thursday for a games night, which was an hour and a half away but sooo fun. I got to play ping pong and wackee six which is a blast but so stressful. The best part though is our friend Jenifer from Alcorcón decided to come with us! She's a legend. We were planning on staying the night, but we went back early so we could take the bus with her. We did forget the salsa the Villalba sisters made for us though, which was lowkey kind of half the reason we went. XD

Friday we played volleyball in the morning (I'm terrible) and then texted all the young adults in the Leganés ward (haha I wish, there's 300 and we barely made it through like 4 letters of the alphabet).

On Saturday, I had my first member meal! We met with a family from Honduras and they made us baleadas, which were incredible. I'd describe them, but I have no words so you'll just have to look them up. We helped make the tortillas, which I'm awful at but learning how to do. Hermana Herbst made a baby tortilla because there was one tiny ball of dough left over, so when they brought out our food I had two huge baleadas and she had one mini one. See photo below. Long story short, baleadas are my new favorite way to start a fast.

Saturday evening we played voleibol with members again (I'm still terrible) but more importantly got to know a few girls we hadn't met before! A couple are less active, a couple are nonmembers and we're all going to ice cream tomorrow. I love my job.

Sunday we went to church in Leganés which was great. We set up some more meetings with members, then in the evening we taught lessons! One of them was just ten minutes, one we rescheduled, and the last one was for a Venezualan man living in Trinidad and Tobago. Not really sure how he ended up in our referral system, or how the very much non-Spanish speaking elders in Trinidad are going to teach him, but he seems really great!

Today we had district P-Day (aka the Elders spent a very ridiculous amount of time barbecuing very ridiculous amounts of meat) and then the hermanas went to the mall. I may or may not have bought a jumpsuit and also a stool from IKEA because I'm too short to reach the top shelf in the kitchen. Or, honestly, the second one.

Being a missionary is amazing. It's so much more fun than I thought, but it's also really really hard. It's hard in different ways than I expected. In my head, missionaries were always these perfect people who were more like marionettes for God. Since getting out here, I've realized I'm still human. Going to bed on time is still hard. Getting out of bed on time is still hard. Sometimes, I work as diligently as I can all day and I still don't get everything done. So this week, I'm trying to keep things sencillo.

Sencillo means simple. In my personal studies, I've been studying a lot about the simplicity of God's plan for us and what our part in that plan is. Ultimately, God loves us, so He wants us to live with him again. To live with Him again, we need to be made clean of our sins. To be made clean of our sins, God asks us to have faith, repent, make promises with Him, listen to the Spirit, and keep repeating that for our whole lives.

That's it. That's the doctrine of Christ, and that's my purpose as a missionary. When I can't do anything the way I want, I can take comfort in that everything I'm doing is to help people do that. I'm small and simple means, but God can work through me.

I'm so sorry for these rants of emails! Hopefully I'll figure out how to keep them shorter.

Hope you're all doing amazing and can focus on the simple things
Hermana Wheeler

P.S. For my new missionary friends: if you haven't discovered it yet, there's a 24 hour Christian radio station on the church's Gospel Stream app. Not only is the selection more varied than the Gospel Music app, so far I've also heard Star Wars, Les Mis, and Owl City on there (sorry, not Fireflies. Iykyk ;) ).

Oops I forgot the photos!

1. My companion is a gem and wrote me notes for my cumplemes


2. View from our balcony


3. Hermana Hebst looking cool and me in piso trash


4. My new best friends


5. The baleadas my new best friends made me


****

Mmm, que rico!  Well, it's not Thanksgiving Dinner, but wrapping up with baleadas seems appropriate.  Plus, I think I see some holiday themed pillows in the background.  Brooklyn, we missed you at our Thanksgiving table and placed a glass in your honor.  I'm hoping that you got to eat some tasty food and felt the love.  We love you!

Grateful for the Pillbox

This is a weird time in our lives.  As I refilled Annika’s pillbox yesterday, I had this strange realization that this will be the last time we fill it for a while.  She is being readmitted to Primary Children’s on Monday afternoon, so the hospital will take it from there.  The next time we use our rainbow pillbox, it will be filled with transplant meds instead.

Ever since Annika had her cardiac arrest, the weekly ritual of refilling her meds has been a beautiful experience for me.  That first time I filled it, I remember feeling SO GRATEFUL for the past seven days we’d had together.  My eyes filled with tears as I pondered the gift of extra time with my daughter.  I acknowledged that this gift came only through grace of God.  Since then, instead of an unwanted chore, refilling the meds has become a joyful reflection on the beauty of life.

I still feel gratitude for the gift of time. When you think about it, this is one of the better scenarios if transplant had to happen.  We’ve had nearly two full years of relatively carefree health since Annika’s initial cardiac arrest.  It’s crazy how much we have squeezed in over these couple of years!  Our Make-a-Wish trip to Hawaii, waterskiing and fishing with cousins on Lake George, playing in the waves on Long Island, walking the Highline in Manhattan, Wheeler family reunions in Quebec and Torrey, a Wells family Christmas surprise in Omaha, Washington DC with the Vedeckis family, horse camp at Trefoil ranch, Hummel Day camp in Omaha, backpacking Ruth Lake, Memorial Day camping at Mesa Verde, kayaking with manatees and visiting Grandpa Wells in Florida, Disneyworld, Grandma Hansen’s 99^th birthday celebration in Rupert, hiking Goblin Valley, a Thanksgiving road trip to San Antonio, Arches, the St. Louis arch, a total solar eclipse in Missouri, Zion, Yosemite, Little Wild Horse canyon, building a quinzhee, skiing and so much more.

These past two years have been lived with abundance.  I feel grateful for every moment.

Instead of a slow decline and the anxiety of waiting for a heart from home, we will be able to move forward pretty swiftly.  Once she is admitted to the hospital, it is unlikely that Annika will wait very long: days to weeks, not months to years.  The next year of healing will certainly have its challenges, but beyond that horizon is an abundance of hope.  Running, hiking, skiing, backpacking, rappelling, even travel. Annika want to go to the Amazon rainforest.  As for me, I’m excited to travel as an entire family to Spain to see the August 2026 solar eclipse and Brooklyn’s mission.  Two months ago, I doubted the feasibility, but now it seems like it just might work.

Here’s to more memories and an abundance of pillboxes in our future.

Ups and Downs

I composed this a couple days ago but decided not to post it.  Good news is that Annika had better days on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday so we are on our way to Omaha.  #feelingblessed

***

It's been a bumpy road.  

When we arrived at the Cardiac ICU two years ago and were placed on ECMO, I recall one of the doctors giving us some advice.  He warned us to prepare for a roller coaster ride full of ups and downs as we navigate Annika's health journey.  In truth, Annika's journey home two weeks later was largely uncomplicated.  From the low point of ECMO, things got progressively better.  I remember feeling quite lucky that we'd skipped the giant dips he referred to.  I felt grateful that ours was a kiddie coaster.

Reflecting back, I realize that I wasn't taking the long view of her journey.  I think we are riding Cannibal at Lagoon.  After a smooth elevator ride to the top (birth to age 9), there's that terrifying drop (her cardiac arrest.)  We made it through that experience and had a gentle pause, but there is still lots of coaster left.

Photo snagged from Lagoon's Facebook page

When Annika's doctors requested she come to the hospital for evaluation on Wednesday, both Jason and I felt ready to list her for transplant, even if this inpatient workup felt like a bit of overkill.  It had been a long process coming to this point of acceptance.  As soon as we mentally and emotionally arrived at this spot, the roller coaster took another wild turn.  Dr. Lal sat down with us to explain that the team highly recommended that Annika be listed as Status 1A.  Status 1A is reserved for the sickest heart failure patients who are waiting for an organ in-hospital.

We were shocked.  I hadn't foreseen this unexpected twist.  Annika seemed so healthy.  However, Dr. Lal explained how out of all his heart failure patients, he worries more about Annika's specific condition because her heart is so unpredictable.  Her heart stopped while roughhousing and tossing leaves with a friend.  She wasn't doing anything crazy, and her heart rate wasn't very high.  When this happened back in January, her dose of beta blocker was small.  In response, the doctors tripled the dosage to blunt her heart rate and manage the arrhythmias.  This time, however, she was already maxed out on meds.  They are running out of options to protect her heart.

Head spinning, I just wanted to break down and sob.  In envisioning heart transplant, I had this scenario in my mind where Annika would be living her best life and skiing up at Brighton when "the call" came.  The last time they talked with us about transplant time frames, they told us it could be a year or two.  Now they are talking about weeks.  It feels so fast.  Plus, this isn't how we anticipated spending the holidays.  The deja vu from two years ago is unsettling.

When Annika went to the cath lab later that day, the pressure values came back slightly better than anticipated.  We were able to negotiate for some time.  Annika could be discharged Saturday in time for her cousin Eila's birthday party and we could spend Thanksgiving together as a family.  The team would meet on Tuesday to discuss whether she needed to be listed 1A or if she would be okay waiting longer as a Status 1B patient.  I was thrilled.  We'd been planning to do Thanksgiving in Omaha, and I wanted nothing more than to escape town and feel normal for a while.

Coming home was lovely.  Our Christmas tree is beautifully decorated, and Annika immediately settled into her perch by the heater, pulling out colored pencils to draw.

Eila's Harry Potter party was also amazing.  The kids made potions, got divided into houses via M&M filled sorting hats, played Quidditch on the tramp, cast spells, painted wands, made brooms and more.  Yet it was also kind of sad.  Annika's chest hurt severely when she tried to battle the Whomping Pillow.  She looked soooo tired. She couldn't play Quidditch or keep up with any of the active things the other kids were doing.  Instead, she snuggled in an arm chair with Pickles in her lap and watched.

Pickles time is the best, but this was a huge change.  For the first time, Annie seemed like her heart was really sick instead of it being largely invisible.  That night we all went out to eat at Chile Tepin to celebrate being together.  It was delicious, but Annie's chest hurt significantly after walking a quarter block downhill to get back to the car.

Two days ago I wrote that we were toeing the line on our list of transplant criteria.  Now I would say we've definitely crossed that line, including "feels substantial social isolation from peers related to inability to participate in activities."

Like I said, it's been a roller coaster.  Yesterday morning I was excited to send Annie back to school on Monday and Tuesday to see her friends.  I was planning to continue my orientation at work.  Today I emailed Annie's teachers and my work to let them know we wouldn't be there after all.  While we haven't made a final decision, Omaha feels dicey.  It's far away, and Annika would have to take it soooo easy.  If she doesn't feel significantly better today, I think we may need to call the hospital and let them know that we are ready to come in sooner.  

These are sad days around here.  While we've been trying to initiate conversations with Annika about transplant for a long while, she's been in denial.  She never wants to talk about it and changes the subject as soon as possible, closing down with "I don't want a transplant."  This suddenly feels so real and so sudden.  She's overwhelmed and angry and sad and scared.  I would be too.  Imagine knowing you are going to miss Christmas.  Imagine missing out on your role as a rapping shark in the school play and Peter Breinholt's Christmas concert and the Christkindlmarkt and Christmas lights.  Imagine how scary it would be to face this kind of surgery.  Understandably, Annika doesn't want this, but I don't know if we have any better options.  I want her to have a voice and feel like she has ownership and autonomy in this decision.  After all, this is her body.  But frankly, it feels like her heart has decided for her.

If you are the praying kind, please pray that our little girl can feel peace.  I have felt some spiritual confirmation that this is the right course of action, but Annika deserves to feel that too.  

***

Update: prayers are being answered.  Annika is feeling much more peace and moments of joy, even with the understanding that transplant will happen.  We have much to be grateful for in this season of Thanksgiving.

Hard Answers to Prayer

 At times I wonder why I disclose so much of Annika's health journey in a public (albeit lightly trafficked) space.  Writing certainly helps me process.  The stories help us remember and weave these experiences into our family history.  The blog connects us with friends and family.  But I think it's even more than that.  In many ways, this journey has been a lonely one.  It's rare to meet someone who personally understands what it's like to have a seriously sick child.  A piece of me hopes that someday someone will find this blog, read Annika's story, and gather comfort from the shared experience.

Here in the hospital it's easier to find community.  Yesterday Jason and I dropped by a lunch gathering for parents with children in the CICU.  While I'm all about the free lunch, I think the real reason I wanted to go was to connect.  We were a small group, but as we went around the room introducing ourselves, three of the other families had undergone heart transplant, including a family whose daughter was transplanted at age 11.

While still a hard moment, it was comforting to feel like we are not walking this journey alone.

Late this summer, we noticed that Annika's chest pain was becoming more frequent and increasing in intensity,  Her cardiac health was starting to frustrate her.  She couldn't play tag with her friends, she stopped bouncing on the tramp, and walking home from school made her super cranky because it hurt.  She broke down after play practice one day because the choreography was too much.  After getting a scare from some lab work that was uncomfortably elevated, we decided that it was time to renew the conversations about heart transplant.  A year ago we created this list of indications for when it was time to list.  While we haven't met every parameter, we are definitely toeing the line.

This time Annika participated in the heart transplant evaluation with us.  These were some challenging conversations, but I felt peace that we were proceeding down the right path.  Then a couple of days ago I started to have major doubts.  Transplant is just so complicated and final.  I told Jason that if this was the right course of action, I really needed God to let met me know.  Then I backtracked and said that maybe I didn't want that because I knew what an answer might look like.

Less than 24 hours later Annika's heart stopped.  

While this was not the answer I wanted, I believe God heard.  Even with the wrenching ups and downs, God is keenly aware.  I've had strong impressions that our Heavenly Father knows each of these heart transplant kids and that he has a plan for them.  I recently read an article about a twelve year-old girl from Davis County who received a heart after six hours of being listed.  I don't believe that's just coincidence.

I don't expect (or even want) Annie to receive a heart immediately after being listed.  Heck, I don't want her to be listed at all.  As Annika put it, this is the worst "Would You Rather" scenario ever: a transplant or imminent risk of sudden death.  However, I am placing my trust in both God and her medical team, all of whom are communicating that she needs a new heart sooner than later.  I know our little girl has Heavenly Parents who cherish her and want the best for her.  But down here on earth, she has two parents who desperately love her too.  Praying for the faith to get through this.

Blippety Blip

Well, here we are again.  Back at Primary Children's Hospital right around the holidays.  

At 4:55 pm yesterday, the blip blooped...again.  In other words, Annika's implanted cardiac defibrillator (ICD) delivered a life-saving shock.  Just like in January, she blipped after school, while I was picking her up from play practice.  She was rough housing with her friend James and having a leaf fight in front of Wasatch Elementary.  I remember watching and feeling simultaneously glad because she was running around like a "normal" kid and annoyed because she wasn't getting in the car like I'd asked.  When I got out of the car to fetch her, she stopped running and said that her chest hurt.  We paused for a moment for the pain to pass, then I told her we needed to get in the mini-van because I was blocking traffic,

Well, I guess I should have given her longer to recover, because when we got in the car she put her head between her knees.  (She remembers this.)  She stayed that way longer than I would have expected, so I started teasing her about being dramatic.  Her head was bobbing with her pony tail flopping down in front of her face.  I told her that if she had really passed out, she wouldn't mind if I tugged on her hair.

Annika shifted as soon as I touched her head and said, "What happened?"  I thought she was joking,  Having just come from theater class, I figured she was acting.  Besides, the timing of her response was flawless.  Her imagination is so vivid that sometimes it can be challenging to discern fiction from reality.  However, when she repeated her question the second time, she sounded really upset.  She promised me that she hadn't been pretending, and that she thought she had passed out.  When she told me that she'd peed her pants, I knew something wasn't right.  To quote Annie, "would I do that if I were pretending?"  As I helped her out of the car, I noticed that even though her heart beat felt normal, her skin was surprisingly clammy.  Something big had happened.

I immediately smothered my little girl in a hug and let her know that of course I believed her.  I still feel so guilty for not recognizing the truth in her story immediately.  The incident was just so unexpected and happened so fast!   The time that she was slumped over was brief--less than thirty seconds.  I still can't believe she was sitting right next to me and I didn't recognize the arrest.  Annika complains of chest pain multiple times every day--I didn't expect this time to be any different.  I didn't notice any kind of shock or hear any beep from her ICD.  Even as I sent a remote transmission from her ICD, I felt unsure about what had happened.

The great thing about a transmission is that it can tell you exactly what happened.  When they showed us her report the next day, it clearly showed her normal sinus rhythm (this is what you want) devolving into ventricular tachycardia, followed by ventricular fibrillation at a rate or 330 dysfunctional "beats" per minute.  You can see where the ICD delivered a shock, and then the return of normal cardiac function.  Per the device, the entire incident lasted fifteen seconds.

Fortunately, Annika recovered quickly.  I called the cardiology clinic while she hopped in the shower to clean up.  By the time she was out of the shower, she wanted to go to 5:30 Activity Days at the church.  As she skipped away from the car and up the church stairs, I reminded her, "Don't run!"  Then I went home to start dinner.

Well, it turns out that the cardiology team was more concerned about the blip than I was.  Shortly after arriving home, I received a return phone call requesting that we bring her into the emergency department so that she could be evaluated.  They warned me that she would likely be admitted.  A little stunned, I asked if I could wait to bring her into the hospital until after we'd eaten dinner.  I didn't want to fess up that she was already off doing her own thing.  An hour would give us enough time to finish Activity Days, grab a quick bite to eat, pack a bag, and still make it up to Primary Children's.

When we got the Emergency Department, they were expecting us.  They showed us back to a room and started an IV.  In return for her cooperation, Annika was richly rewarded with slushies and slime.  She definitely understands how this hospital gig works.  She knew to ask for the "Buzzy Bee" to help with IV placement, and requested specific colors for her slime and the accompanying glitter.  

Plus, she brought Toothless to keep her company.  She was telling all the nurses how it was from her cousins in New York and showing them how it plays a special message.

Late that night Annika was admitted to the Cardiac ICU out of an abundance of caution.  Here's Annie getting an echocardiogram in the morning.

  

The best part of her day happened when they decided to let her eat food because she wouldn't be going to the cath lab yet.  To celebrate, she devoured a crazy amount of omelet and pancakes.

You don't typically think of the ICU as being an enjoyable experience, but between the Minecraft, Legos, and library, I'm quite certain Annika enjoyed it.  As a parent, it was a little less fun.  While the care is exceptional, it's really difficult to sleep with all the bright lights and constant activity.   Plus, the unit definitely has some triggering memories for me.  I recognize it as a place of miracles, but felt very grateful when they were able to transfer us upstairs to the regular cardiac floor this evening.  We were double bunked in the ICU, so her new private room feels like a spacious luxury.

Fun as its been, I'm hopeful we won't have to stay too long.  After all, there's no place like home.

 

Spry Canyon

I have so much on my mind and heart right now!  The transition to working full-time has been pretty intense; there are definitely moments when I feel overwhelmed.  There is so much to learn as a Labor and Delivery nurse!  IV placement, electronic fetal monitoring, foley catheters, cervical exams, birthing positions, sterile technique in the operating room, titrating pitocin, assisting with epidural placement, interventions for non-reassuring strips, triage evaluations, magnesium drips, troubleshooting the IV pumps, protocol for hypertension, phlebotomy, provider communication, non-stress tests, coaching through pushing, prepping for C-sections, fundal assessments, handling hemorrhages, administering antibiotics, IUPCs, assistance with breastfeeding, endless charting, and oh-so-much more.  Plus, I haven't mentioned the obstetric emergencies like a cord prolapse or shoulder dystocia.  I haven't experienced either of these yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Lots going on in other areas of my life too--I like my work but feel torn when I miss out on important events with the family.  It's been a bit stressful for Jason too.  Most of the weight of getting Annie to and from school falls on him.  This should get easier in a month when I switch to working nights, although that obviously has its downsides as well.  We'll just take things a day at a time!   Many families have two working parents--we'll figure it out too.

In the meantime, let me share some photos from a more relaxed weekend in September.  Before starting work, I pushed hard for a special weekend in Zion.  I'm so glad that I did!  It was remarkable.  Here we are relaxing by the Virgin River.  

Jason, Eli, Annika and I drove down together, making it earlier in the day. Talia was going to drive down a few hours later with Grandma Susie, Grandpa Charles, and Ruby but they got away late so we connected around dinner time. Everyone made it safely, so it all worked out.

 A perfect pile of skipping rocks.

We meandered over to the Zion Human History Museum via the Pa'rus trail.

While there, we checked out the route some of us planned to explore the next day.   Jason, Talia, Eli and I had a permit to rappel Spry Canyon.  Meanwhile, Annika, Ruby, Charles and Susie looked forward to spending time in the Coral Pink Sand Dunes.

A mighty meal at Oscars gave us plenty of fuel for our journey.  Amazing burger, Eli!

We arrived at Ponderosa Grove campground after dark, just in time for a bit of star-gazing.  Looking deep into the cosmos helps me feel connected to my soul.

Here are Annika and Ruby playing in the sand dunes the next day.  Susie and Charles, thank you so much for creating these special memories with the girls!  I hate leaving Annie behind when we camp, but this hike would have been far too intense for her.  (Heck, it was nearly too intense for me.)  Thanks to you, she got to have a great time with her cousin and grandparents while still getting out into nature.  Plus, we are SO grateful to you for shuttling our van farther down the road so that it would be waiting for us when we finished our adventure.

Speaking of adventure, these gals traveled all the way to Arizona!

Meanwhile, our crew hiked and hiked and hiked.  We broke camp in the pitch dark and made it to the trail just as the day was growing light.  I say "trail," but the route begins at a pull-out beside a nondescript sandy wash on the East side of Zion.  

Eventually you start climbing up to a saddle with great views of Zion and Deertrap Mountain.  I was glad we'd hiked this portion of the trail before; otherwise I never would have felt confident that we were headed the right way.  I'm also really glad we have children; otherwise we would have had to tote our own gear!

We'd hiked this route before, but this was the first time we noticed the petroglyphys.

Eli greets a yucca.  I'm pretty sure we all donated some of our epidermis to the foliage.

I'm extra extra grateful to Jason for all the time he dedicated to researching our route. Even though we hadn't been there before, he knew where to set up each rappel, how long it was, what equipment was needed, etc. A canyon of this size is a massive venture, and he led us both safely and skillfully. Always calm under pressure, it wasn't until after that he revealed how scary it was for him to send us down each descent. I never felt nervous, trusting completely in his ability to set up our rappels safely. However, Jason understands the risks and never takes a rappel lightly.

It had been a while since I'd rappelled, so I felt a little nervous getting on rope the first time.  By the end of the day, however, it felt natural.  We all got LOTS of practice.  With 13 raps, Jason set us up 65 times!  No wonder he was exhausted, both physically and mentally.  At 165 feet, this first rappel was the longest, and required tying two ropes together.

Scoping out Spry Canyon.  Once you get started, there's just one way through!  Best commit.

Both strong and adventurous, Eli often led the way.

Talia needed some convincing to smile.

Love this man!

In fact, I love this whole crew!  I can't think of anyone I'd rather adventure with.  Only thing better would be hiking with Brooklyn too, and Annie some day when her heart feels better.

While Spry Canyon can be blistering hot some times of year, we timed it early enough in the day that we got to the saddle before the sun started blazing.  After that, the canyon itself provided plenty of shade, plus there were a couple of pools that required swimming.  In fact, we brought a wetsuit for Jason since he has the least body fat and is the most prone to hypothermia.  We figured that since he had the task of setting up all the raps, it was most important that he be warm instead of shivering and fumbling with the belay devices.

I adore these kids, goofy faces at all.  (Well, just Talia.  Eli is perfectly posed in each.)

I got brave and took a few photos on the way down this rappel.

It was so fun to see all the little frogs dotting the canyon walls.

But then I got frustrated because sand got stuck in my belay device and we could NOT get it open!  I'm so glad we were canyoneering in a group.  If I'd been all by myself, I would have been stuck up a cliff--literally.  As it was, Talia had to tie her belay device to the rope after each rappel so we could pull it up and I could share.  I think in the future I will bring a spare.  

In general, Talia's rappelling form is decent.  However, it deteriorates dramatically when she doesn't want to drop into the water.

By the end of the rope, she was forced to commit.

This next rappel went better.

Time to relax.

Believe it or not, we never crossed another human for the entire route.  It's hard to imagine spending 12 hours in Zion National Park on a Saturday in September without meeting another soul, but it's possible.  In fact, I highly suspect we were the only group venturing through Spry that day.  Even so, we saw evidence of all the canyoneers who have passed before.  These rope grooves are so deep!  Jason had to choose a different route so that our rope wouldn't get stuck.

I'll just stop babbling now and let the pictures tell the rest of the tale.

All done!  Even though the mileage wasn't that far, we were exhausted by the time we finally made it through all the rappels.  However, we still had a lot of scrambling to do to make it back to the exit at Lower Pine Creek, on the other side of the tunnel from where we started.  Once we had cell service, we were able to call Charles and Susie to let them know we were safe so they could start their drive back to Salt Lake a bit earlier than our crew. 

As for our bunch, we finally met a few humans during the last 1/4 mile as we reached this waterfall.  However, I think our encounters with people were outnumbered by our run-ins with the goats.

All in all, I really would consider this day to be one of the G.O.A.T.  Thanks for making it happen, Peanut Butter.  We love you!