Surgery Day

Surgery day at last.  I sleep pretty good and arise around 6AM.

I pack my man bag (it’s not a purse) with the personal material, a book, I pod, camera, pad, pens, advocacy cards etc.  I took the laptop down and packed it in it’s case with necessary accessories to set up in the hospital.  Some things that I packed are the direct result for my previous hospital stay.  Certainly going to the hospital is not a goal for most of us and avoided generally, having the experience in the first place makes subsequent  visits easier to prepare for.  At the hospital a quick trip through registration and down to preop.  I stopped at the men’s room on the way down, the last time I would drain this way no matter what I thought as I stood at the urinal and then set on the stool because my nerves were clearly irritating my pee machine.  We met a special nurse who would report on me every 2 hours or so to family.  The room included a chemo recliner, extra chair and sink etc.  All the stuff you find in exam rooms.  It was very small, with 3 people packing the place.  After getting in my gown and getting seated Vanessa came in and rotated with my Daughters, Sisters and Brother in Law.  It was great to have the support of Family.  Early in the process I would feel guilty about imposing on loved ones but the disease and difficulty of doing anything without a lot of support made me forget the guilt long ago.  I never appreciated how important it was.  I am never too long alone in my room accept at night.  Pre op is 3 hours to sit and get asked the same questions repeatedly.  The questions posed by the pre-op nurse, resident surgeon and pain management team were to confirm that I did as instructed verbally, by e mail, by phone and by the duplicate instruction copies previously received. 

The time in pre-op went quickly.  Dr. K the surgeon came in one last time to confirm my surgery with me and discuss first and second urinary diversion options.  Renee gave us a Babtist prayer (it went on a while) and with hugs for the Sisters, a firm handshake and see you later for Jack and hugs and kisses for Daughters and Wife I took the long walk to operating room 14.  As we turned down the hallway for the final steps I wished I had lingered longer with my girls.  We entered an area with shiny aluminum like doors on both sides.  We walked to room 14 and as she opened the door I entered an operating room.  My previous surgery was done in a hospital basement room that shared space with surgical supply closet.  This room was equipped for surgery.  It was large, with big digital monitors on the north wall.  The table was at an angle in the room making working around it spacious.  I felt a calm and comfort level with the staff.  The last thing I remember was having the epidural set, which was painless.

In recovery I popped back quickly.  Dr. K came in to advise the surgery was a failure.  The cancer is extensive making bladder removal impossible.  He found a small quarter size tumor on the outside of the colon and removed that small section.  It was hidden in the folds.  He asked about going back to the oncologist and I approved.  By 8p or so I was in my room, a double shared with a young man much more stressed than I.

Prep And Prayer

Morning of the 26^th and remarkably I am not hungry.  Contrary to my hopes and dreams, the laxative worked all night, hour by hour, oh what a joy.  No wonder I have no appetite.

At 8 am I am downing my second dose, one more today and I am done the intake phase.  Laxative for breakfast, a entirely new way to go at weight loss but frankly I would rather be fat.  Made it up to see the Boy’s today one last time.  Joe was in rare humor, Gerald presented the team with a sewer problem and Dan looked a lot like a Marine DI and was also in fine humor.  Much laughter by all and a boost to my spirits last minute.  So I rest in preparation as the night lingers.  No last minute stuff to clutter my head, what good would it do.  Hearing from loved ones wishing me well is good as well.  The double dose of nuclear option continues to effectively kill my appetite.  At midnight all intake ends.  I find I have weathered this well and it has not been as difficult as I anticipated.  Just another step in the process. 

Pre OP at 10AM.  I have been called for pre registration, to check to see if I have behaved correctly and done as instructed and reminded I have surgery tomorrow.  I am going into a teaching hospital and my surgeon is the department head, it don’t get much better than that for bladder cancer victims. 

My Niece inspired me to lyric with my Surgeons Prayer;

Surgeon and Nurse do take care,

That’s a Dad, Husband, Uncle, Cousin, Brother laying there.

A friend, a foe, the latter sad to say so,

with so much to do and such a long way to go.

So hold this life dear Nurse and MD,

As you do your miraculous ectomy.

I will fight to make a victory for you,

One you can talk of in future reviews,

For such a victory to be sure,

Means we were successful and finally cured.

Liquids Only For A Bit

Now Monday the 25^th.  Liquid diet regimen in place.  Day one.  First bottle of the nuclear option downed with water.  As if on the clock first blow out 30 minutes later.  All for today I think as I have been regular as clockwork all summer.  Past experience dictates I give myself about a 3 hour window and take down at least 48 ounces of water with each bottle.  Two more bottles of the stuff tomorrow and my colon should be clean enough to….to whatever you do with a shiny colon that is so clean it looks like it has never been used.

Van and I drove to the hospital this morning for one more chest x ray requested by the Ologist presently in charge, Dr. K.  Sam came out to assist me.  She asked me why I was there, who my doctor was and basics on medical history to fill out her blank form.  This hospital will be another repository for numerous ‘fat files’ I am sure.  After that we went upstairs so I could get a look at where I would be staying, since the next time I arrive I may not be conscious.   Van overwhelmed me a little when she got back last night, first with me picking her up in too small a car and ending the evening with my failure to oversee the lousy waitress packing her to go supper order.  On the latter she has a case, for I know better than to trust this particularly air headed server.  Some people are not really good at their regular jobs and it becomes glaringly obvious if they are in the service business.  In any event I acted out.  I hope I have not done it very often but I am not sure.  Vanessa does not deserve to be the brunt of some venting issue I have.  That being said I found myself feeling a little silly afterward, getting all bent out of shape at her unloading after days with the Sisters.  I should be used to it by now and I am and deep down thankful that she chooses me to do her venting at, on and over.   

It is my goal to be eating again about this time next week.  I know that is pretty ambitious but the visions of cheeseburgers are already dancing in my head.  

Inger gave me high marks this morning on my over all condition, although my lower left ankle and foot were pretty swollen.  I found a little more to do around the house this evening in preparation for winter.  The wind is supposed to blow a gale in the morning.  I think I have the hatches battened down satisfactorily.  Longer term the weather looks fair for the anticipated time I will be in the hospital.  This is a big load off of my mind.  I cannot help but worry a little about Van driving in the city.  She is still directionally challenged no matter how many times we go to the same general area.  Lots on her mind I guess.   

Tomorrow I must change the message on my phone to reflect my extended absence.  In 36 years of my trade I have never been out of touch for this long.  I am still pondering what to say.  On the other hand my results have not been stellar, after all I ain’t rich yet so who really cares what I say?  Clearly I will figure this one out.

Saturday Night Adventures Before The RC

Maggie got out last night after I got home and put her out unsupervised.  Forensic evidence examined this morning indicates the little devil made it under the fence.  At 2 AM me hollering Maggie in the neighborhood seemed ill advised, but since the closest know my voice I decided the dog took preference.  When I could I worked up a piercing whistle.  The dark was absolute at times with the overcast and I caught a couple of glimpses of her in the yard, out of reach, pretending to be indifferent or watching me intently.  After 45 minutes or so she came bounding in the open gate to the sound of a few morsels of food in her bowl.  Today she is lethargic and clearly homesick for her family. 

A remorseful Granddog

Last night was a ball.  Picture 3 totally pussy whipped guys age 59 and up driving to Lafayette.  Killer in the back texting his wife and fielding calls in most entertaining fashion.  'Whoa cleavage' he blurted out as we came down in the glass elevator at the convention hotel.  Sure enough below were some of the sisters with cleavage.  I had seen it before and was sure I knew what he was talking about.  Only he could get away with such an outburst.  We had lots of pictures taken, I quaffed down a couple of Jack and Cokes that Killer insisted on treating me to.  I danced with my beautiful wife, had a nice dinner and a quiet ride home, followed by losing the dog.

The left stocking was all I wore for the evening and it became quite uncomfortable on the way home.  I also had the bicycle shorts option on for upper support.  This set up works well to prevent the lymphedema from raging out of control.  This morning as I write I am sans stocking and the leg holds that tingly feeling from mid thigh to toe end. 

‘Realize that we are leading our generation, the baby boomers into the foray of ill health

and high tech treatment modalities.’  Jim Bailey

Days Before Surgery

A hard guttural feeling.  A sick feeling.  It runs down and makes you feel weak in the knees.  Sometimes you can taste a little vomit in the back of the throat.  Only 60 years old.  Thinking about losing your bladder and prostate.  Oh sure lots of things could go wrong with me, heart attack, stroke, car accident.  Never the less thinking about it makes me a little sick. 

But then I am reminded again of all the hidden blessings, a flood of memories into my mind, Sisters, Daughters, Neighbors, Friends and Co Workers.  Concerts, games, visits, dining and the lost goes on.  Of course the experience I am about to go through will present a entirely new set of blessings for me to take joy in. 

Yesterday I began my surgical prep with the first step, ending my Sea Aloe.  It is a nutritional supplement that promotes healing and generally makes me feel pretty good.  Vanessa reminded me I had to stop and I did not argue.  So no Sea Aloe, continuing to exercise, continuing regular diet, oreos left, ice cream left, lunch meat left, a good dinner or two.  No time to do so many things I wanted to do before the surgery.  Got my Granddog for the week end while the kids go to see his Mom in MO. 

Rex advises he did some research on my surgery and the only long term problem I will have is learning how to handle the large brass spigot that will be used for my main drain.  Oh, I love humor. 

Saturday before surgery.  The SBS day.  It starts with a very rambunctious Granddog, dog breakfast, dog biscuit and dog tug and drag Grandpa in and out of the quicksand (a game we play on the laminate floor with her indestructible squeaker.  Tonight I travel to Purdue to with other husbands to join Vanessa at a black tie event for her sorority.  This is an important deal for her that she has busted her buns to prepare for.  I am very proud of her ability to network and advance in any organization she is involved in becoming a key contributor and player without a lot of feather waving.  More than that is the value she places in every acquaintance and friend along the way.  Quite remarkable. 

I have not seen Inger since Van left.  I was not aware she was also a Beta Sigma Phi member but it is a very large organization and it would not surprise me if she was, as it seems to fit her as well I think.  Oh what luck I have had to have Inger come into my life.  

Letter From The Front-The War On Lymphedema

A side light in the cancer fight is the battle against lymphedema, one of the unintended consequences of the disease.  I stepped up my visits to the gym.  I think I need to in preparation for the surgery.  I am also trying to make sure I walk every day at least two miles.  I understand I am going to lose a lot of muscle and keep a lot of fat.  I’m ok with that, I guess, but I think I need to have a lot of muscle to lose or else I am going to have trouble recovering.  So making muscle in short order allows me to take advantage of my gym membership and being part of the gym family.  I only know one of them by first name and the other through one of my children but they all smile and I guess I am not that personable anyway and after all we ain’t there to be social.  Now all this therapy, walking and gym activity seems to have created overactive lymph. 

Now there is nothing good about lymphedema.  You get it in the leg your little bird leg turns into an elephant leg.  You got to lug around an elephant leg and that ain’t no fun.  On top of that you got to lug around your elephant leg with some kind of gear on it so it doesn’t turn into a completely different kind of animal, a blob leg and who knows where it would go from there. 

And then there’s the whole business of it being in your business.  The lymph travelling over there can turn your jim beam into a jim keg.  That ain’t comfortable because you got to dig to do your main business, like draining the main vein, if you know what I mean.  There is this feeling under the skin with lymph on the move.  Heat and tingling, a tightness, a fatigue.  Inger’s therapy and my level of activity undoubtedly contribute.  My leg stays down but I swear the lymph shows up in my face, hands, arms, lips, you name it.  Probably even my hair follicles from the feel of it.   It is likely after the surgery the battle will become tougher but as with all things I can adjust. 

Battling the compression stockings is mostly limited to keeping them from rolling up on my foot.  Sometimes with a lot of walking my leg goes down so much the stocking will fall to my knee on the left and ankle on the right.  Adjustment requires drop drawers, which I am reluctant to do in public, even with the bicycle shorts or under armour on underneath.  So now I am battling against not just the lower half blowing out, but pockets and flow to the rest of me where I do not want it.  I cannot imagine life without Vanessa and Inger in this battle.  Their discipline and loving care keep this stuff manageable so far.

Caring

Will I be part of the bag community?  Hell I didn’t even know there was a bag community until the cancer.  I have visited ostomy web sites where experiences, stories, pleas and blessings are put out there.  An entire community within the human community with bags talking about intimacy, sex with a bag, bag accidents; all the good, bad and what some would consider ugly.  Not me though, now I understand.  Would that I could have had such sensitivity as a young man but at least I have it now. 

For a cancer patient I have had too much fun this summer.  Dave Matthews and Santana with Stevie Winwood and priority parking, baseball at Victory field, concerts at Conner Prairie, dinners and lunches, my little brother, my big brother, my sister, Aunt Shirley, Chicago and full time work.  The gym a lot, walks, grand dog and golfing 3 times for the first times in my life.  You wouldn’t know I had a tumor to look at me.  Greater than all of that is discovering and rediscovering all the caring and loving people in my life.  I am blessed into supreme humbleness at the thought. 

In The Basement Of The Cancer Center

I turned the Solara into the garage and circled up three floors to park.  My first time to not use the valet service.  No handicapped stuff today.  Use the stairs down three floors and two blocks and through the front of the cancer center to admissions, getting my bracelet pick sheet and stickers (my bar code).  How I wish my day did not end here today.  How I wish I was blissfully ignorant again.  How will life be for me after the operation?  Will it work?  Will it be worse?  Will I come home again?  Hokey smokes, I have the willeyes again, I hate that.  I just suggested to some one last week not put the cart before the horse and here I am at the cancer center with Vanessa on my arm for pre surgery tests.  I know that my caregivers know little about the mechanics of my disease, it’s source, causes and motivations.  Indeed as best as I can tell studies have been limited compared to other forms of cancer and certainly there is not a great deal of awareness about bladder cancer. The accepted only chance for extending the life of us advanced victims then is to cut out everything remotely close and see how it works out.  What a glorious concept.  Sort of a tea party approach I think.  Vanessa is scared to death but putting up the bravest of fronts as the date draws closer.  I wish I had more time but I dare not chance it.  Naturally work has picked up as I have pushed in so much last minute stuff on my schedule.  Down to the basement and face a stern receptionist.  Area 1 she directs us, in a large room with various tables and well worn furniture.  Surgery it says overhead in strong black letters.   The tables spotted around with large surreal letters, 5 3 6.  People huddled, numbered like livestock and herded by a kingdom builder.  Surgery at the cancer center.  No worser place to be I am sure but never the less it could easily be turned into a comedy episode.  It is afterall so impersonal.  This isn’t your car you are waiting on in service, it is your loved one, but that cannot enter into it here at the garage.  No more do they cherish yours than they do that old Chevy you take out only on the nice days.  It is after all a body shop much like a car auto body shop.  Work orders, clients, machines, skilled technicians, roll them in, roll them out, another day in paradise.  I watched the gal behind the desk.  The reception, crowd control keep order person.  Peering at her monitor, dressed in Sunday best for work, her hair alone a significant investment for sure.  She takes her job a little too seriously.  I decided to test her and got up.  I told Van I was going to check things out and moved to one of the corridors off of to the side of area 1.  Almost immediately she was up and opening her side door.  ‘May I help you?’ she asked.  ‘No, I’m fine’ came my reply as I moved back towards Vanessa.  Satisfied but wary she moved back to her terminal.  At that point I wheeled about making for the other corridor.  She turned dramatically as I abruptly stopped at the vending machine set off in an alcove.  Concerned she might kick my A I moved back to area 1 and dutifully took my place near Vanessa.  Although the center is not that old, this particular area seemed especially depressing and worn to me.  We were ushered into an examination room for the long wait.  I prefer to keep the doors open when held in stasis for long periods of time and this is probably the most contentious conflict I have with the nurses.  So we often play the game of door open door closed. 

Van and I have a sort of routine here.  The exam rooms are painfully alike and our shared dread of them gives break to our shared routines.  She finds her spot relative to the sink in the chair that is always there, book in hand, bag on her arm and ready to settle in for the whatever.  I check the room for crabs, look over all the stuff, test the TV if there is one, try all the furniture, use the sink, look at the portrait of the really good looking guy they have in the mirror and generally try to keep alive.  I think every nurse and doctor should as part of their education be made to set in an exam room for an hour or two waiting just to get a sense of the impact on the human psyche.  But we make the best of it and our time together every time, Vanessa is such a trooper.  It is a real hoot when Jocelyn and or Jennifer can also join in the fray, although then I have new voices calling me down every whip stitch. 

Like the receptionist, I pondered on the life of my Nurse, who routinely, patient after patient goes through the same steps every day.  Explaining how to do the urine sample, transferring urine to containers for tests, drawing blood, asking questions, reciting spiels day after day.  And all that college for this I wondered?  I certainly hope she is happy in her job, I am sure I could not do it.    

Lamenting The Fat Files

‘I see smoking is….’ she said.  ‘Yes, smoking is a primary cause’, I finished.  ‘Well, I was looking at your history and then one of the other nurses pointed it out.  I have seen a lot of neoostomies, urostomies and ostimies and I never knew that.’  I did not reply.   

We went to Simon yesterday for my appointment at the pre-operative medical clinic aka the PMC.  In spite of all the technology the fear of lawsuits adds significantly to the cost of care.  Here with all the information at her disposal a very talented nurse had to spend an hour building my file from scratch in hard copy.  This included getting a fax from a few floors above of 8 pages, talk about killing trees.  And let’s not forget that due to different screen views the state of the art cancer center has to use a fax to transmit patient information from one office to the other in the same building.  So I get another fat file.  Fat files on me exist now here, in the basement of the old hospital, at the north hospital, at the north medical center, at the Anderson hospital and at Dr. Steve’s office, as well as Dr. E and Dr. J’s offices.  I cannot imagine suing a doctor or nurse for care given if it failed unless they clearly were drunk, stoned or serial killers who somehow made it through all of medical school to rise to the top of their profession.  Anytime you get sick you are faced with new risks, no matter what.  Risks increase when you have to seek medical care, and even further when you are under treatment.  Finally the best way to get sick is to land in the hospital, and if you do you’re first and foremost goal is to do as your told, get better and get the hell out of Dodge before you get some infection, virus, poison or medical error laid on you. 

Today we used 3 gallons of gasoline at 2.85 per gallon.  We interacted with a sign in clerk, a receptionist, and two nurses.  We paid 4.25 to park.  We arrived at 2:40P, early, and left at 5:03P, all for a urine sample and to draw blood on my part, and for the nurse to build the file on her part.  I could have done my part in 20 minutes at any lab and faxed that in.  Perhaps we could use a little tort reform so she could dedicate her very expensive hour to patient and not paperwork needs. 

And oh by the way, thanks to kind and experience Nurse for reminding me that I was there most likely because I was a smoker.  Oh yeah, I must have forgotten that.

My Battleship A Daughters Love

Looking back Fathers Day seems a lifetime ago.  My summer was filled with many good times and new experiences.  Every weekend was a treat, my Wife a joy and my Daughter's close at hand.  Jocelyn gave me a replica of a famous guided missle cruiser, knowing my love of toys, along with this note. 
She must of been thinking I was considering giving up the fight and wanted to make sure I understood what was at stake.  Rex told me he never understood how someone like me with so much to lose and leave could go for years without seeing a doctor for regular exams.  Hmmmmmm, could it be shameful self centernesss on my part, fear that something might really be wrong and I would end up as I am?  A healthy dose of that and more.  Knowing how I deserve what the Good Lord has bestowed upon me is above my paygrade. 

Spin Tarry Thrust

‘Have you made your appointment yet?’ she asked.  I was responding to her v mail.  I need to because she can get lost or sometimes has a need not expressed.  This time it was mind racing to see how we fit it all in.  ‘No, that’s on the top of my pile.  I thought we should coordinate on the time.’  ‘There’s no need to coordinate’ she said .  ‘Well’ I drawled, ‘I just figured you would want to be there for whatever it is we are doing’.  ‘It’ a preoperative check you have to do’ came her curt reply.  I could sense the tension building in the cell connection almost as if the microwave frequencies were reaching a point of harmonics that might disrupt this dimension.  ‘So you are telling me I should not give regard to your calendar and set the appointment as I see fit?’  I ducked my head a tad.  ‘I’m telling you’, (Is that teeth gritting I am sensing?) ‘to make the appointment then I will set up my calendar, but it needs to be done soon.’   ‘OK’ I replied ‘rest of this week is out’.  ‘Anytime next week’ she said.  I moved slowly across the keyboard, scanning my outlook calendar and checking the various post its, index cards, scratch notes about my desk in various states of dishevelment.  About to commit she says from a distance ‘But not next Tuesday.’  Hmmmm, make it any day, except.  After some out loud bantering due to the fact we were at our workstations a hall and two doorways apart, we will shoot for Monday or Wednesday.  I fired an e mail requesting times available.  I hope the challenge never ceases as long as I am breathing.  Touche’.

The calendar is filling for the next weeks.  Chicago, catch up with my Dear Aunts, Homecoming, work stuff and transferring to those who must pick up my work load as well.  I hope I have a lot to turn over as I intend to go full tilt until I have to quit for a while. Spend as much time as I can now with my closest of family as we brace for the inevitable long days.  Jocelyn will bear the burden by virtue of her willingness and geographic closeness.  Vanessa put her battle gear on day one and faces each step of the process as another battle in the war.  Fortunately for her sanity and mine she keeps me in check. 

I am back on my training regimen, but still struggle with the voracious appetite.  I likely will have to start keeping a log.   

Deciding On The Surgery

Monday and back at work.  Gave the office the word today on my surgery date and plans.  No questions just appreciation on being kept in the loop was the universal response.  I continue to wonder at the people that actually care about me.  A marvelous miracle and blessing each and every one is.  Through my life I have employee and employer but not so much a coworker.  Mostly alone, the majority of time getting to or coming from interrupted by brief encounters with clients and fellow employees the job leaves me on my own for the most part.  How wonderful now at my age to discover the caring and concern the team has for me.  

My cousin now undergoing prep for a stem cell transplant noted she is just now realizing how sick she is.  I understand her sentiment.  Although I have had a surgery, hospitalization, intense physical therapy, allergic reactions to meds, a full round of chemo and now have a permanent handicap from the cancer preparing for surgery is still a hard reality to face.  It means I really am sick.  Frankly I never thought I would be a candidate or have even a remote chance of a cure, yet here I am, the answer to all the prayers said for me. 

Surgery means urinary diversion, but it also means a 20-30% chance of getting the cancer out of me, the only chance I have.  I have decided that my first choice is the neobladder.  This is the most complex and difficult surgery choice I have.  It means I am banking on the 20 year goal for remaining life, not the 5.  I confirmed this morning in another hard step forward.  I did a lot of soul searching on this and found much help and solace in the journals posted on the BCAN web site.  I am looking forward to getting it behind me and hope to be back in good order on or about Christmas.  Like a runaway train, there is no stopping me now. 

Friday Night Date Night

Last night I had a date with the wife, circa 1972 with updates.  Instead of Maynerds it was Teds.  Instead of Fred and Fonda it was Son and Daughter, instead of a 16 dollar tab it was a hundred dollar tab, followed by walking two malls, albeit open air up scale.  Smelling the clothing stores reminded me of downtown Elwood shopping on Friday night with Mom leading and Dad and Paul and me in tow.  The smell of Falveys was in the air for true.  At my age, after walking two malls and prior to that killing the buffalo and a greasy cheeseburger with onions and cordobian bacon and sinfully real cheese with a gob of mayo (and I think my problem is holding fluids, give me a break) on top of bison nachos and two delicious margaritas and copious amounts of ice water.  I ate like Henry the 8^th.  It will take from now until Surgery to live it down.  I likely weigh in at 215, highest ever in my life and the operation takes the muscle weight but leaves the fat.  Fabulous.  Today is Day 2 of training.  I would say I have gotten off to an ignominious start. 

Saying Goodbye And The Importance Of Passing To Passing.

Today was a turn around day for me.  Getting a letter from SD on his present condition helped me to remember how blessed I am at present.  I find it more pressing to pray for him than me.  I said goodbye to Bonnie tonight.  She had been feeling low for a while and apparently got pretty weak and they found her at stage 4 and she is in hospice care, receiving visitors in her bedroom.  She rose to see us and the family left us with her for a while.  My breakdown at church now so long ago touched her heart I think.  She always wanted to know if I had any pain.  She told me she had no pain.  I think Bonnie is 86.   

I think my Mom died in pain, her last few days curled prenatal.  Knowing what I know now I wonder if we gave her enough laxative knowing how long I suffered taking pain pills for the pain of intestinal blockage brought on by the pain pills I was taking..   I know now the true meaning of shits and giggles I guess.

Mom and I never said goodbye in parting, just goodnight, as was her tradition for as long as I can remember.  She would say good night in the morning to beat saying goodbye.  Goodbye she said was too final.

Bonnie is planning to tie up with her life mate very soon.  She is gathering strength to play piano in the church one last time.  I hope she can, but I don’t think I could be there for it.  Such a trigger I fear would reduce me to a blubbering mass.  God bless Bonnie, a good person that in her life touched many.  You can see her pay it forward all over southern Madison County if you look (hidden blessings you know).