Hello from Virginia

I have been out of blogging for so long, I wonder if I can still do it. The story of my last post took place more than a year ago, but I feel like it was just yesterday that we returned to America for Scott's reahab in Ft.Belvoir, VA. After months of physical therapy this past March he was found "fit for duty" and put back to work awaiting for the letter of acceptance to George Washington University for the Master's Program in Eurasian Studies. He got in. Yay!

Before. This was taken exactly 1 year ago.

After. This is a picture of Scott's last fitness test after the course of rehab in Feb 2012.

We spent a very hot summer in DC, taking short trips to the beach, to Williamsburg, to Niagara Falls, Palmyra, and Philadelphia. On the 4th of July we learned that we are expecting another baby. Some three months later we found out it is going to be a boy!

As soon as we got to VA, we found great music teachers. Nadia was continuing piano, David started violin. This year, due to our piano teacher's change of plans, we were left to look for another teacher, or let Nadia start living her dream playing the harp. So, Nadia, took a significant turn in her music career and now strumming her Prelude harp every free minute she has. She is truly happy and excited at this development and so are we, regardless of tripled costs for the rental harp and an hour-long lessons each week. 

David is giving us a little concert at home

Princess Nadia, 11

Ethan and Levi are hanging out with me at home. I wish I could afford preschool for them, but then I feel that it is rather selfish of me. They really don't need other kids to socialize with, and I know my ABC songs and can teach them a thing or two right here, under the roof of my home. Besides, they are the best Russian speaking children I've ever had so far. They use their Russian with ease and I know for the fact, that it won't be so, as soon as they start preschool. So, yes, I am tired and my house is a mess, but my babies are bilingual and give me plenty opportunities to take their pictures.

Levi and Ethan, 3 outside the Church building during the Stake Conference  in Oct 2012

cool dudes!

There is a Russian song that goes: "I'm looking at you, like in the mirror..." That's about these two.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=related&v=mFVP-qW_Duk

Epilogue - Merci à la France!

Before that happy Monday, when Scott was found in good enough shape to be air-transported to the Military Hospital in Germany, there also happened a memorable Sunday, where I was asked to bear my testimony at the Sacrament meeting. I wrote it down, so those exact feelings can be relived again and again. This is my spiritual treasure, this is what has become a part of me, this is my answer to Heavenly Father's love and grace. And this is my sincere Merci to the French people and their wonderful beautiful and welcoming country. Sister Wood translated for me. Here goes:

"I have been here only a little over two weeks and I feel like Marseille is my home. In such a short time you genuinely learned about who we are, what our story is, and how you can help us. You acted as if you were my family and it meant the world to me.

During my time in France I had a lot of time to think about God's plan of happiness. Initially I thought that happiness consists of good things of this earth. But how feeble and fragile that happiness is! This life cannot be it, if God wants to make us all equally happy. He prepared for us much much more.

Before we came to this world we shouted with joy about coming to live on Earth. We were eager to proceed with this physical experiment even when were warned that mortal life won't always be butterflies and rainbows. But what we will gain from it - the knowledge, the experience, the strengths, the talents, the love and relationships - will far outweigh our pains and sacrifices. So, of course, no one here on earth deliberately wants bad things happen to them. But somewhere deep inside we know that pressing on and making through the storms of life will be worth it in the end.

My recent trials have helped me see my life in eternal perspective. Mortal life is wonderful and beautiful, but it is so because it contrasts with sorrow and hardships. In other words, opposition is what helps us appreciate and treasure the good.

But what if opposition is so dark and heavy that it eclipses all hope for much wanted miracles. Walking in the shadow of death in the past two months caused me to broaden my understanding of the plan of happiness. God's miracles extend beyond this life. They continue on beyond the veil. Everything that's been started here is to be continued in the eternity.

Ever since Scott suffered from the heat stroke in the Ironman competition, I have witnessed many miracles big and small, often in the midst of incredibly challenging situations and I am humbled and grateful for every one of those miracles. But I've also received the strongest testimony that there is an absolute miracle that has already happened for each and every one of us. This miracle is - Jesus Christ. It's Jesus and his Atonement, His power to conquer death and to provide the way for all humanity to be resurrected and reunited. This was the ultimate truth and hope that saved me during times of my deepest sorrow and despair.

God lives, brothers and sisters! You are the proof of that. You have exercised your faith with me. You have gone out of your way to visit Scott and administer priesthood blessings to him. You kindly gave us rides, fed us your great French food, translated for us, comforted and welcomed us every Sunday with kisses on our cheeks. You are so wonderful! I love you and thank you for everything.

Scott is breathing on his own, he is fully awake, he communicates with us, and he eats! He had some mashed potatoes, soup and apple sauce yesterday. He will be transferred to Germany tomorrow and I will see my children and tell them of all the wonderful things that happened in France this summer.

L'église est vrai. Je vous aime. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen."

30. The American Army Is Here!!

On Monday, August 30, 2011 the historical event took place in the life of the Thompson family and possibly in the history of Hôpital Nord de Marseille. An American Army airplane was sent to medevacuate Scott from France to Germany. It was the day that sometimes I thought of as a pipe dream, something that would never come true. And - boom! - it's finally here!

Instead of planned 10 am, it was past 1 pm when the male nurse triumphantly burst into Scott's room and announced: "Zee American Army is here!" rolling "R's" in his charming French way. What followed next was the scene from the Hollywood movie. U.S. Air Force doctors and nurses with huge bags full of medical equipment wheeled in the stretchers and greeted Scott warmly. It was hard to hold back tears of joy, Scott was finally with his own people. He was carefully handed over by the French doctors, who shared the space with their American colleagues around Scott, giving them the report on patient Thompson's case. He was in good hands this whole time, now he is going to head home, where even walls will help him back to his feet. It was a great finale to Scott's journey to the brink of death and back.

I went out into the hall, hiding tears, stopping before every familiar face in the ICU to thank them for my husband's new life. They were all amazing and great. Miracle workers!

Then it was time for me to say good-bye to Scott. I thought it would only be a short time before I see him again. But it turned out that after 1 week in Landstuhl he would be transferred to the States, while the kids and I would be back in Germany figuring out yet another survival skill - moving oversees all by our smart and capable selves. Waiting for official orders while registering kids to go back to Garmisch school, out-processing while attending soccer games with Dave, packing our unaccompanied baggage while stocking up on German Christmas decor and treats (don't ask me why), and finally cleaning our apartment while having a good-bye party with the sisters from the Munich Ward. It was a busy time in our lives filled with phone calls and Skype conversations, sometimes heated because I am a paranoid wife and tend to bug everyone around this one patient in their care. So, anyways, November 15 is the day when we would finally reunite again as a family.

But the feeling is and will be different in the next two and a half months. Because I knew Scott would be all right with his Mom by his side, who'd fly out to DC to hang out with Scott at the Walter Reed Naval Hospital. He breathes on his own and so he will continue to progress in his amazing recovery. The worst is over.

I kiss Scott good-bye one last time and they load him up on the plane.

***

I leave the hospital, the drama, the tears and catch a taxi to take me to the airport. Marseille - Munich, please. Time for life to be normal.

29. New Life

Aug 25, 2011 - Thursday
Scott was off the vent for 7 hours! His writing is 90% understandable. I get better at reading his lips.

August 26, 2011 - Friday
All day off the vent. His writing is solid. He also can whisper. He sits on a chair for an hour which wears him out. He feeds himself a whole carton of jello, brushes his teeth. He hates nights. He can't fall asleep. When they give him a sleeping pill, he falls asleep for an hour. Then they come back in, turn on the light, check his vital signs leaving him groggy, uncomfortable and unable to go back to sleep.

We talked to kids on the phone today, it's the twins' second Birthday! They had a great day. In the morning they had a breakfast of birthday chocolate cakes made by Nadia and her friend Maggie Metzger. I wish I was there to see my babies looking at those cakes mesmerized, then poke them, then destroy them! At 5 pm there was a bbq birthday party thrown for Ethan and Levi by our Garmisch community folk. Lots of people, lots of food, lots of presents under one of the many gigantic pine-trees in front of our apartment building. I bet my family felt so special! My friend Lena Volkova (who flew to Garmisch the day before the party to stay with my Mom and help) was so impressed by solidarity and service rendered to our family. So much love! How can I ever thank them fully? They were amazing! Thank you, my Garmisch friends!

Scott was in really good mood today. He had Steve take pictures of his stick legs and arms. They even made a video where Scott said: "This.. is.. what.. Ironman.. does.. to you," in his hyperventilating Darth Vader whisper. Then he shook his head and went: "All that training..." He seemed to start accepting the reality of his new life. I can only imagine how he feels now having lost so much of his strength. But if he is the same Scott I knew before June 26 of 2011, he'll build himself back up. First, mentally and spiritually, then physically.

August 27, 2011 - Saturday
Scott was off the vent the whole day and the night before. He was in a chair when we came in yesterday. He looked exhausted. He said he had a terrible time catching his breath, he was asking for help. The numbers on the screen looked fine, so the nurses did not rush to his rescue. He kept on leaning forward, resting his head on my shoulder and trying to get enough air. My heart ached for him, I could not bear him being so uncomfortable and kept on asking nurses to do something. Namely, hook him back up to the ventilator. It took awhile before nurses could fetch the doctor who would have to give it a go. Doctor explained that Scott was doing incredibly well and this discomfort is due to his weakened chest muscles. But if he wanted a break, they could hook him back on to the machine. So, we asked for a break. As soon as the ventilator was back on, Scott started coughing and choking. His face cringed with pain and discomfort. I panicked: "Is it worse? Do you want it off?" He nodded between his coughing fits and I asked the nurse to stop the ventilation in my most assertive French I could come up with. They turned it off and Scott was relieved. It was intense.

Later, he was transferred to bed (not an easy task for a female nurse, so I stuck around to help) and had a short nap, half of it on his left side (another new trick, 'cause before he could only be on his back.)

He was quiet the rest of the day, staring blankly into his 17 Again movie. Cute show!

At night he became more talkative, mainly demanding. "Rub my feet, I'm cold, Soup too yucky, Lay me dawn flat, Sit me up.... "If only he knew how happy it makes me to hear his commands, accompanied with rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. I told him I loved him soooo much!  He said: "Even in my skeletal shape?" I said: "Even more so!"

28. Slow And Steady Wins the Race

Aug 21, 2011 - Sunday
8 weeks on life support today. Scottie is doing better every day. They've stopped all sedation today. He's been awake since Wednesday but they've been "weaning" him off of his drugs gradually. On Thursday they performed a tracheostomy on Scott - a hole in his trachea (at the base of his neck) through which he would be attached to the ventilator. It's a transitional phase for patients ready to be weaned off the vent. No more big and uncomfortable tube down his throat. There is only a skinny feeding tube in his mouth right now.

He is coming back slowly and it is hard to see him so weak. His eyes sometimes stare helplessly and submissively like the eyes of a child who realizes his dependency on others.

His ventilated O2 is 36. Blood O2 is at 96. 37 breaths per minute. Temperature is 37.7 C. There are two drugs for high blood pressure in the dispenser and one syringe with saline water.

He doses on and off, I think sometimes he is dreaming with his eyes half-open. I bought him a portable DVD player with several light-hearted movies. For a movie lover like Scott, he is acting very atypical, more like me when watching a movie, falling asleep 15 minutes into it. But that's ok.

He lost tons of weight. The nurse says probably close to 60 pounds or so. There is no visible muscle left on his arms and legs. It takes a lot of effort for him to squeeze my hand and move his toes. My poor Scottie. But as long as you are recovering this does not matter. We'll fatten you up and get you back on your feet.

Tom has left Marseille yesterday. He also returned the rental car and now we are carless for a day until we make it to the airport and rent us one on Monday. This morning Steve and I took took a cab to go to Church. It was an expensive ride - 60 euro!

Aug 22, 2011 - Monday
This week they started weaning Scott off of breathing machine. Today he spent one whole hour breathing on his own with his trache disconnected and closed in. 


Aug 23, 2011 - Tuesday
2 hours off the vent.

Aug 24, 2011 - Thursday
Scott was off the vent for 4 hours straight today. He started using a board and a marker to communicate with us. It's hard to read (but even harder for Scott to write) because his hand is trembling and many times it's unreadable. But with persistence on both sides we get our thoughts across. His first writing was: "Get really lonely." I hugged and kissed him many many times. I just wanted to hold him and make him feel loved. But before he wrote that, his lips said: "Where have you been?"That's the hard thing about being more and more awake, poor guy. Just imagine being in the foreign hospital and in the broken body that cannot always cooperate.

Then Scott wanted something we could not understand, he attempted to say it with his lips, he tried to write it, he even drew a picture of it.. I thought it looked like a bed, but finally we could decode the word "iPod" on the board. I gave him his phone and he tried to use it as a notepad. But those keys were too small for his trembling fingers, so we ditched that idea.

He kept on practicing his old-fashioned way of writing all day today. "I need to fix my bike!" "Call Grad school!" "I have to pee."....

He ate some jello.

27. Little Blessings

August 17, 2011 - Wednesday
I have to describe the experiences we had yesterday. Steve and I were visiting Scott when we saw Tom Butler right outside the room motioning us out. (Did I mention Scott was awake and recognized us ok?) Tom said that the doctor is there to talk to us. This time the doc was the same young girl we saw Saturday and we knew she spoke no English. As we come out of the room waving to Scott and reassuring him that we will soon return, Steve starts to dial Karen's number, so we can maybe put her on a speaker phone and have her translate for us. But his two calls failed. So, as we step out of the ICU, puzzled at how we are going to communicate, the door opposite from the ICU opens and there are two missionaries standing before us. Like the angels, much needed at the very right moment. One of them was from Utah, another - from Oregon, they spoke French and were at our service. All five of us proceeded into the doctor's office for a very good update. The thing is, Scott is getting better and better.

There were also sister missionaries waiting for us in the waiting room: sister Vasileva from Bulgaria and sister Wood from Utah. They brought me some old issues of Ensign, just the thing for my long stays at the hospital. They visited with me in the waiting room while Steven and the missionaries went in to give Scott a blessing.

The lady who brought the elders and the sisters was Aline Gregory, I remembered her from Church. She used to work as a clinical psychologist in that hospital and knew Dr. Papazian. She felt prompted to come to the hospital that day and pick up the missionaries on her way. And that's how this little miracle took place. If we let it happen, God governs us in such a way that our roads cross each other's at the right time and at the right place, bringing blessings.

About an hour into my second visit with Scott, a nurse said that there were more people to see us but she did not know who they were, so she wanted me to come out and see for myself. In the waiting area a beautiful French woman approached me, two teenage girls by her side. They introduced themselves in broken English. Turns out they are also from the Marseille Ward and heard about us this past Sunday. She said that they've been praying for us and that they LOVE OUR FAMILY! One of her pretty daughters handed me a tray with chocolate muffins and they tried to ask me what else I needed. I thanked and hugged them, touched by such attention and love. They love us! They don't even know us but they LOVE us! This means so much to me in a foreign country in difficult circumstances. Later that week we had a lovely dinner with this family. Their name is De Angeli. Muriel and Jean-Francoise have four children (Emma, Faustine, Benjamin et Ludivine.)

The Love of God, the most desirable gift of all, has reached us all the way in Marseille. What a testimony builder!

26. Just Sayin'

A few words about the Church in Marseille. It's located in a beautiful historic center of the city, right on the seashore. Same beautiful, dark complexion French people, smiles and kissed on cheeks... All the members of the bishopric spoke great English. We accepted an invitation from Brother Conte to come for dinner after Church.

Church is such a blessing for a stranger in a foreign land like myself. When I am there, I cannot ever doubt God's love. It is bliss amidst terror. Feasting upon His wonderful gifts of love is the sure way to conquer pain. The constant reminder that if there is place for hope, there is no place for fear.

Last night when planning our trip to Church, Steve invited Tom Butler to come along. He is Catholic and normally attends 1-hour long services at the Garmisch Chapel. He politely refused.

"No?" went Stephen, "You don't want to go to 3 hours of Church in French?" :o)

Aug, 15, 2011 - Monday
Scottie is right here by my side. He opened his eyes today and gave me this innocent blank stare. They started waking him up today. His artificial O2 is 35 today. His blood O2 was 94 in the morning, but 98 now. That's great! He still runs a fever - 38.3 C.

Not much going on in my life other than hospital visits. We can visit Scott from 12:30 to 20:30. It's hard to do it in one shot. So, I took a long break today, from 15:00 to 16:30. I can't believe how I crashed into a deep nap on a metal bench in the foyer. This hospital is not visitor friendly either. But I don't care about that, as long as they take good care of Scott.

Yesterday Stephen and I got lucky to talk to Dr.-Professor Papazian. He is the head guy of this ICU department. He spoke great English and was very patient with us. What struck me the most was that he looked like he's been badly burned. His face has patches of different color skin, no eyebrows, his right hand has only stubs in place of his fingers. This is someone who has been through terrible experience in his life. But his world did not crumble down on him. He chose to come out of his own tragedy and keep on going saving other people's lives. This kind of character evokes great emotion and respect in me.

There is also one male nurse here who speaks great English and understands that my hardship partly stems up from not knowing French. So, he speaks to us, whenever he stops by, explaining things which helps incredibly. He said that Scott is a true miracle. He had not seen anyone that sick to start improving so suddenly and positively. He believes that the reason behind it is the fact that Scott's lungs were absolutely clean and healthy before the accident. He never smoked and that alone is thousand times better than any medicine ever invented. Sometimes he sees an x-ray image of a 25-year-old smoker's lungs and it looks as if that person is 95 years old. So sad.

Stop smoking, people!!

25. I Can't Believe...

August 14, 2011 - Sunday
I arrived yesterday to see my Scottie. His boss, Tom Butler, came with me. I have to mention that the Army took a very proactive role in our hardship and paid my way to Marseille as well as my stay in the hotel. My brother in law, Stephen, flew from Texas to Marseille the same day as we did.

It's a good thing Tom came with us. He rented a european car, which means a manual shift vehicle, which I am incapable of operating. And we need a car here, cause things are spread out in Marseille. It's nothing like slick and charming Nice where everything is conveniently laid out for tourists.

The first stop is the Hôpital Nord. We finally find our way through the empty and depressing corridors of a Soviet-era type construction with crumbling curbs and occasionally broken windows, and finally enter into the Above and Beyond of modern technology. The ICU specializing in serious respiratory infections, lung transplants and critical conditions is akin to a Startrek ship. It's all sliding doors, no-touch sensors, beeping coming from at least a hundred flat screens covering the walls. All the rooms are  designated for just one patient and there are only two patients assigned for each nurse. There are total of about 20 rooms going along the perimeter of the ICU with nurses' station in the middle.

My heart beats so fast I am about to pass out. We sterilize our hands and put the blue tissue disposable hospital gowns to cover our germy clothes. I think, I see Scott as we approach to his number 14 glass room. Wait, I can't believe it's him! This is nothing like him!! He is propped up in sitting position, tubes are attached to him, the ventilator is blowing air into him which causes his upper body  to shudder. He looks thin, pale, and lifeless, with lots of hair on his head and sideburns. His eyes are closed with awfully dark purple circles around them. I cannot believe how different he looks now from only 10 days ago. Not only different, he looks worse, he looks more sick, AND he still runs a 39 C fever (102.2 F)! How is that possible?! I thought he was getting better! My feet could not hold me any more. Nobody spoke English, menacing silence was interrupted by beeps and blows of the machines. I had to come out right quick and crushed on the floor right in front of the nurses' station bowling, unable to comprehend what's happening. I   needed a minute to get used to this new reality. I could not wait to know more, but at the same time I was terrified of that knowledge.

A nurse brought me a chair. Soon after we were invited to visit with the doctor. Thank heaven, Fred and Karen came from Nice, specifically to comfort me and to translate. How sweet of them! We followed the young lady doctor into the meeting room. She gave us an update in French. Karen translated.

Doctor: "He is better."
Me: "But he looks so sick and weak!"
Doctor: "He really was much much worse just a couple of days ago!"
Me: "Why is he running a fever?"
Doctor: "He's been through a lot and his body is fighting to recover but there is no infection detected in his body."
Me (thinking that I've heard this before and can't really be comforted by this): "But what if infection returns?"
Doctor: "We have drugs to fight it. But his numbers are really better. He is down to O2 - 36 on his ventilator, it's a very good sign."

Basically, I've heard similar reports before and I had a choice: to believe that he really is improving or to deny it and to hold on to my fears. Of course, I chose to believe. I even ate pain au chocolate (chocolate pastry) that Karen brought for me. It was my little quiet celebration with God acknowledging his generosity and love amid my suffering.

I went back in to see Scott in his room. At a second glance, he does not look THAT bad. He looks like he has lost lots of weight, but so have I. He is in serious need of a hair cut, his Elvis style thick black hairline is what makes him look so much smaller. I hold his warm white hand and I feel his pulse, stubbornly indicating that his life still goes on.

I looked around Scott's room. It was big and bright with many equipment machines behind Scott's bed. Oh, one little detail, they've disconnected Scott from the ECMO machine the day before, so no strong images for my bruised senses. What is most notable about this hospital room - is the window, through which sunlight and blue skylight are beaming with hope. This was a pleasant change from dark and gloomy Nice ICU.

When the day was over Tom, Stephen and I said good-bye to the Lafittes (they had to drive back to Nice that same night) and went to find our hotel. Royanna booked us 3 rooms in a nice Comfort Inn in the suburbs of Marseille next to a shopping mall and a bunch of restaurants. We ate at the American-style diner that night. That was the end of my Day 1 in French Provence.

I can't believe, that after I have read Julia Child's biography and have dreamed of visiting Marseille where she lived, I am actually here. God moves in mysterious ways. Be careful what you wish for!

24. Marseille Miracle

After the news of yet another bad Monday reached us, my world stopped turning. Even the silent vacuum of my soul was petrified. If only I could fly to Kolob and see the never-ending purpose of God's creation, if I could be reassured that nothing is lost, when it's passed through the veil, if I could just increase my faith to knowledge, then.... then... Then, there would be no miracles, because everything would be predictable and known to us. God's mystery would cease to be a mystery.

But, I guess, God decided that we've had enough of mysterious complications in the past few weeks and it was time to reveal a piece of truth to help Marseille doctors help Scott to actually stay on this earth. This sharp turn in the flow of our unfortunate events I perceived as a real miracle.

On Monday, Karen and Fred notified Marseille bishopric of the current situation. The next day, Tuesday, Aug 11, the first Counselor of Marseille Ward went and found Scott in the hospital Nord to administer a priesthood blessing to him. When we met later with Cyril Conte in Marseille he said how he felt so much warm love and prayers coming from Scott's family and friends from all over the world that he felt a strong impression  that God would bring him back to his feet, so he blessed him for health.

My Tuesday was spent in reconciling with God and asking for peace and understanding. I had no idea, that Marseille saints were already serving my husband. Being there on his own, he for sure needed that blessing. And I needed to know that if he dies there, he would not be utterly alone.

An interesting update on Wednesday. During the routine check on Scott, which took place after the blessing, his pupils appeared to be enlarged. Normally, it's not a good sign, so they ran a CAT scan of his brain to check if it's still alive.  His brain appeared to be ok. But while at that, they went ahead and scanned his whole body, looking closely at his lungs. They saw something they did not see before. They saw a lot of scar tissue that was blocking the alveoli, hindering the process of gas exchange. What's more, the scar tissue accumulated on lungs is often seen in patients suffering from cystic fibrosis. And there is a drug for that! Since Scott's case was not connected to cystic fibrosis, they haven't considered using that drug before. But now they decided to give it a try.

The next day we received a call from Karen  saying that the new medicine seemed to be working and they were able to lower Scott's artificial O2 down to 40%. I must remind you that maximum of 100% was used when he was transferred to Marseille.

I felt like celebrating. Cautiously. The weather, too, finally decided to grace us with warmth and sunshine. Friday all 7 of us (kids, mom, Anya, and I) went out to downtown Garmisch, ate at the Burger King (kids'  choice) and enjoyed gelato in each other's company. The kids were kids, happy and resilient. Mom, Anya and I, after praying and fasting for days felt less burdened by our trials and by our excessive weight. Light  was finally overcoming darkness. We were afraid to believe our eyes. Because things have gone wrong so many times before.

The beauty of a miracle is that even when you are not physically present, you can feel it so strongly. You are afraid to call it that, but you know it's happening. Tomorrow cannot come quick enough, I have to make sure I'm not dreaming.

23. Prepare for the Worst

It rained a lot in Garmisch. But we had some good quality time together trying to catch up with the events of the past 5 and a half weeks. We went shopping together, and cooked some hearty American meals and baked chocolate chip cookies. Indoor pool was a must for the older kids as well as the Harry Potter finale movie. They were invited to come along with some friends when it just came out on July 15, but Nadia and David wanted to wait for Mom and Dad to come home first. They were hoping for a family date night. Well, Saturday, Aug 6, three of us drove to Munich English movie theater to watch HP7. Nadia was so excited. I had the hardest time watching the movie. I was projecting everything I saw there into my life. Never mind wands, spells, and stone soldiers come to life. I saw the connection nevertheless. It was a heavy and dark movie but with some great insights and wisdom, and what's important - with a happy end. Voldemort is dead! Harry lived!

On Sunday Anya, kids and I went to Church in Munich. Mom had a day off, completely alone for 5 hours, she needed that! It was pouring cats and dogs outside but we pressed on and made it to Church. I felt immediately at home there. So much love and concern. So much Spirit. I felt strengthened bearing my testimony and talking to the Ward members afterwards. It was kind of cute that many of them tried to relate to my situation by sharing stories of their ailments or of what their loved ones have gone or going through. I appreciated that. We stayed for "Break the Fast" after all the meetings. Kids ran with their Church friends around the Cultural Hall, and I saw them laughing and being carefree. Just what I needed to see - life goes on and I will not let happiness fade away from my children's hearts and faces. I WILL do everything possible to keep them safe and happy. 

Like a drink of water I was waiting for Karen to call me from France every day and tell me the news about Scott. She had an arrangement with the Marseille doctors that at 3 pm she'd be getting in touch with them and then call me with an update. This was not an easy job for a friend. We only had a couple of weeks to tell us if ECMO would help or not. At some point human body cannot withstand such an extensive invasion and would either get better or shut down. On Sunday, which was day 5 of ECMO treatment, there was no change in Scott's condition.

On Monday, Aug 10, I received a call from Karen saying that ECMO does not seem to work and I need to make arrangements and fly back that coming weekend. 

***  

I've fasted ever since that day. I poured my soul out in prayer every day, many times a day... I talked to the kids... 

***

Then came the time to resolve the legal side of "what ifs." Royanna Butler, bless her heart, has been there for me. First, breaking the codes to get into my USAA bank accounts (since I'm such a clueless and oblivious wife that does not even know how much money she has on her accounts), then walking me through the "what if he dies" scenario. It was surreal, like it was not my family's situation we were discussing. I don't know how she did it but she did it; in between of all the possible gruesome details of my near future, she was adamant that everything would be ok. She did not say which part exactly would be ok, but I started believing in her words. 


Meanwhile, her husband, Scott's boss, LTC Butler has booked airline tickets for two of us to travel to Marseille that coming Saturday, Aug 13. I was so glad I was not doing it on my own anymore. So thankful for his time away from his family and from his busy schedule to help me face my trial one more time.  


If you know something horrible is inevitable, is it worth trying to make peace with God? Does it make sense to make an effort to heal yourself spiritually before you die? It was not only Scott's death I was contemplating. You see, if he dies, part of me will die also. Can my spirit handle this and can my faith carry me through? For the sake of my children? For the sake of those that love and care for us? Or should I become bitter and angry with God and hate my life? Should I let time heal me some day and try to forget this nightmare like it never happened? How would I want to see my children handle their hardships?


The answer was obvious to me: I would want them to be at peace as soon as possible. We are not entitled to happiness only because we are alive. We agreed to come to this earth and embrace both good and bad and to learn from both. Of course, an abnormal reaction to abnormal situation is normal. Being terrified while in the midst of a storm is normal. Being depressed is a normal step in recovery. But then, hopefully sooner than later, you start making connections to heavenly wisdom and things start to fall into place. Job was a great example of handling his predicaments. He sounded out my exact thoughts:

"For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me. I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.... What? Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?.... Therefore I will not  refrain my mouth; I will speak into he bitterness of my soul [hence, the purpose of good friends and a blog].... Behold, he [God] withholdeth the waters, and they dry up: also he sendeth them out, and they overturn the earth. With him is strength and wisdom: the deceived and the deceiver are his. He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death.... Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.... Only do not two things unto me: then will I not hide myself from thee. [Do not] withdraw thine hand far from me, and let not thy dread make me afraid.... Oh, that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever! For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God!"....  But he knoweth the way that I take: when he had tried me, I shall come forth as gold. My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and not declined. Neither have I gone back from the commandment of his lips; I have esteemed the words of his mouth more than my necessary food. For he performeth the thing that is appointed to me."(Book of Job) 

Thanks to many good people, I was never put in an awkward position Job was in thanks to his "friends". I did not have to defend my integrity. Nobody (at least, not at my face) accused me of doing something wrong with my life having had to deal with God's punishment as such. 


One and a half weeks spent in Garmisch has put me back on my feet, and regardless of what was to come, I was strengthened and healed to some extent. 


Now, Marseille, I go with hope and pray for faith to be able to accept...
     

22. Home At Last

August 3 Scott was transferred from L'Archet 2 Hospital in Nice to Hospital Nord in Marseille to receive ECMO treatment. Dr. Tran mentioned about this treatment as part of the absolutely worst case scenario. Basically, I did not plan for this to happen. But it happened. There was nothing else they could do in Nice to save my husband's life. The next closest place with necessary equipment was 2 hours west of Nice, which is Marseille. Extracorporeal membrane oxygenation or ECMO is a surgical procedure which involves tubes being inserted in a leg artery and blood drawn from the body and pumped through a machine that works like an artificial lung and heart delivering oxygen straight to the bloodstream. That gives rest to lungs allowing them to fight the bacteria and hopefully regain their function. 


After that Tuesday night when they picked up Scottie, I made a decision to drive home to Garmisch. First thing Wednesday morning I packed my stuff and Scott's bike, cleaned a bit, got my bottle of water from the freezer and set off for North. Fred and Karen were at work, so we said our good-byes beforehand. Leaving France was hard. Facing my circumstances 5 weeks ago, I hated that place. Now, 5 weeks later, I got attached to it: Mediterranean breeze, loud crickets, marché aux fleurs, the Lafittes... And of course, the thought of going the opposite direction from where Scott was now. I felt like I should have followed him to Marseille. But the doctors told me that I would not be able to come and visit anyway, because everything had to be sterile for the fear of complications. 


So, here I am, leaving la belle France, and entering bella Italia, and crying my eyes out. Driving for 8 hours completely solo was a torture! It's like death angels were next to me, whispering into my ear all the things that might go wrong. And at this point, they would be right. And there was nobody there to prove me otherwise, or distract me from my dark thoughts. Even Robbie Williams sounded really depressing (I will never be able to hear his songs again without bursting into tears). 


In Italy I stopped to go to the bathroom, to buy some juice and stuffed animals for the kids and fuel for the car. Once I climbed over the mountains, gusty rainstorm slapped my car. I knew I was home because the temperature on the north side of the Alps dropped like 20 degrees. Garmisch greeted me cold and sad, just the way I felt inside. I haven't eaten all day and I don't know how I stayed awake during my drive. Probably the thought of my kids, who were anticipating my return and counted so heavily on my presence, that was what kept me safe. I needed to make it home, I reminded myself. No matter how much I wanted to cling to my role as a wounded soldier, a torn-up victim, or a lonely girl with broken heart, I needed to be the strongest one of all now. I AM the mother of my children and they needed me, my comfort, my experience, my faith, my testimony, and my LOVE.


My Mom was sitting on the couch, babies leaning on both sides of her under her arms, like under the wings. My babies looked quiet. They did not even budge when I flew into the apartment. They hid their chubby faces in my Mom's sides. They did not recognize me! They both had fever caused by stomach bug, Mom said. I could not dare to rip them out of my Mom's comforting embrace, though my heart squeezed a little harder releasing the pain I did not know before. My babies did not know who I was! 


I hurried down the hall to Nadia's room. She was also sick, laying in her bed, looking out the window. My sunshine baby girl was not even finding comfort in her books. That was not a good sign. I got into bed with her and we laid there hugging and crying. She held me tight, I kissed her head that smelled of anti-lice shampoo. I was not going to see her wither. I promised myself to be her best friend and bring smiles back to her face. 


David was like his siblings in bed, with fever. They all got struck by the same bug. Knowing more than enough about fevers now, I was alarmed yet comforted. Alarmed, because I remembered instantly what a scary indication it is for Scott. Comforted, because not all causes of high body temperature are deadly. I knew that my children's fever will soon go away. Maybe, Scott's would, too?


From that Tuesday/Wednesday when we hit ground zero and felt the most vulnerable, weak, bruised, and lost, things just had to get better. And they did. At least, at home.


At first, my only way to deal with our sad situation was to curl up on a couch and lick my wounds to the point that they would remain raw. So much was I reliving my pains that they seemed to increase. This was not working, I needed to change my coping techniques. 


One of them was to ask and accept help. Anya Bikbaeva, from my Russian hometown, whom I have never met in my life before, but heard of a lot from my sister, who was friends with Anya, offered to come and help us. What's more is that she now lives in Wurzburg (she married a German guy.) She hopped on a train and 4 hours later made it to Garmisch Bahnhof where Kirill Tsekhanovski picked her up and brought her to us. 


What a blessing she was for our home! My Mom was relieved from constant heavy burden of responsibility and a huge load of work that was on her shoulders all this time. I was not as much help to my Mom as Anya was. Anya speaks good English so my older kids were able to communicate more freely. She is young, energetic, and really great with kids while I was quite not in shape to take over. Plus, it was another Russian speaking soul in our household. Do you know what that means? That means tea time in the evening, Russian movies and a lot of talking, without constantly deviating towards heavy topics of life and death. In other words, good therapy! 










  

21. Standing Still

On Monday I prayed to God for helping me understand what to do. Where is my place at this time in this world? Is it with my children back home in Germany? Or is it with Scott in ICU in France? What else can I do here to help him? Is there another leap of faith required of me at this time? 

Tuesday was the first day ever that I stayed away from the hospital, at least in the morning. I needed to wrestle my Goliath of a fear and renew my resolution to fight to the end. I was a little anxious getting off my bus way before it had a chance to wheel me off to the L'Archet-2. I headed straight to the beach. Hesitating, I took off my dress, feeling smaller after my crazy summer diet. I hurried down to the water to hide my pale body. 

It was a memorable feeling. As if nature, in her goodness, held me in her gentle embrace. A surge of energy flowed through my pores and into my whole being releasing me of my grief, allowing me to pour out my pain in tears, washing off my despair and promising me strength. It was probably the first time that I felt like smiling and rejoicing in unison with happy playful squeals of laughter coming from children who were teasing the Mediterranean. 

When the waves threw me ashore I walked back to my towel trembling from physical exhaustion and dried in the sun feeling every pebble under my ribs. I could never understand looking at Nice pebbles how they can be enjoyable. Now I know. It reminded me of a Thai Hot Stone massage. My body soon fell into the curves of the hot surface which warmed my flesh and soul. It was good. I laid there among hundreds of people but nothing bothered me. Physically, I felt sweet surrender to the God's creation. Spiritually, I was making an effort to do the same. Namely, to give in to God and to stop wrestling him. I wanted to be at peace. I wanted His grace to be an answer to my quest. I needed to admit that at this point the battle was His and I need not fear. 

I went swimming two more times, repeating my invisible conversation with the Lord while soaking up the sun. A drifted into a sweet slumber when the phone rang. It was Fred Lafitte. He said I needed to come home. He and Karen will take me to the hospital and translate because Scott needs to be transported to Marseille.

The battle is on after all. Yes, scary, but, yes, I can do it! It feels calmer, almost as if I am a bit detached from the situation. This is the time to handle the matter to the Lord. This is the time to stand still and see "this great thing, which the Lord will do before [my] eyes." (1 Samuel 12:16) I am glad to report that my Goliath was knocked out. At least, for a while. 

We saw Scott at the hospital, his numbers dropping. The only thing that gave hope to the doctors was his amazingly strong heart. The nursers were busy, preparing Scott for transfer. In the midst of this agitation, Karen went in with me to see Scott one more time. With Karen there it did not feel like it was a matter of life and death. 


When the Marseille team arrived, with tons of people and  equipment, I actually felt hopeful. There was after all one more chance. I did not even feel like crying when they told me to come and say good-bye to Scott before they would close the doors and start prepping him for this procedure. My heart started beating faster though when the nurse came out with the plastic bag of Scott's toiletries, cd's, and kid's pictures... She also handed me the cd player. I looked at it mournfully thinking what if he is not coming back from Marseille. 

But you know what? I read this little story in the book Karen gave me and it stuck with me:

"Fear knocked at the door."

"Faith answered."

"Nobody was there."

Hugging, hoping, smiling, talking, even with bits of careful humor, Fred, Karen and I headed home. No hyperventilating, no weeping, no fearing.  

I received my answer. Tomorrow I will go home to Germany.

    

20. Torn

In attempt to help Scott's lungs to rid themselves of mucus, they turned him on his belly today. In attempt to help me fight my fears I energetically rub his back, now available to me. I cover it with kisses and tears. Then I pull myself together and with my best commanding voice I tell him that he needs to fight the bacteria in his lungs, he needs to wake up, he needs to be a Dad to my children. If only he could see how babies call his name pointing at his photograph, how his shaggy head David boy is praying for him, how much pain there is in his daughter's eyes, he would surely come back. Please, know how much you are needed here, how strongly you are loved, so, fight for your life, for your loved ones, for those praying for you!


1 August 2011 - Monday


O2 required - 65%, O2 in blood - 96%.


This is torture. To sit and watch the machine that jumps from 97 to 94 to 96. Please, just don't go downhill! "Le même que hier," - said the nurse. The same is yesterday. Ok, just keep at it, my love.


This emotional strain is so great that I can't understand looking back, how in the world was it possible for me to last this long?! It's the beginning of week 6 in ICU for Scott and me. I am so torn between my love and devotion to Scott, my mad loneliness and my sweet little munchkins back home. I can't wait when the day comes and I can squeeze them tight in my arms, and wipe their tears, and change their diapers, and listen to their stories... I hope, oh, how I hope that Scott will also be by my side. I so want my children to have their Father! They miss him and love him like no one else in the world. And I know that Scott loves them more than anything. With him they are safe. And I am loved... 


As I ride my bus up and down the hill roads to the hospital, I see moms sitting at the playground watching their kids play and I think to myself: "What a luxury it is to lead a normal life like that." I am going nuts how much I miss my life at home with Scott and the kids. I love them all so much. Please, help us be together soon. 

19. Nearer My God To Thee

Last night I had a scary dream, which I don't even want to recollect but I will:


Scott died. I was at the viewing at Church. There were some people he worked with and my Russian girl-friend from Garmisch. As they were ready to put a lid on his coffin and move him from the room, I noticed something nobody else seemed to notice: Scott folded his arm and tapped on the side of the coffin as to let us know that he isn't dead. I started telling everyone what I just saw, that something is wrong, that they should not take him, but no one seemed to believe me. I was in panic and tried to stop them, and then I woke up.


It was only 4:55 am. My heart was pounding so hard, I was in cold sweat sitting on my bed, terrified. I was so afraid to close my eyes and see the same dream again. But I knew I had to get more sleep if I don't want to end up in that ICU myself.


I really wanted to resist the temptation to take Valium, cause it was scary how quickly I was becoming addicted to it. I lied down, trying to summon happy thoughts and images, when I heard this "BZZZ" coming out of my phone. I reached for it and saw that it's the Skype message from my sister Ksenia: "Ul?"


Now, how in the world did she know to talk to me when I desperately needed someone's comfort. I called her right away and told her of my scary nightmare. She immediately knew how to interpret it in a rather positive way. She even quoted Doctrine and Covenants verse for my comfort. Then we just chatted nonsense until I floated away in my sleep.


She was my little miracle that night. One of so many lately. I so appreciate these windows of heaven opening up here and there at just the right time.


Maybe, this trial should go on a little longer so there would be a part to play for other people in bringing us all closer to each other and to God.


Like my Dad, maybe. I talked to him on Skype last night and of course, I asked him to go to Church and pray for Scott. He said:


"I do! I even went to all the Russian Orthodox and Catholic churches in St. Petersburg."


"Oh, Daddy!" I said, "Why? You just need to go to our Ward in Kolpino and ask our brothers and sisters to pray for Scott. They know him, they love him. It's thanks to him that they are all there. Please, just go to our Branch, so that they can support you as well."


And he did. He started going to Church.


I can't even imagine how many pryers were said on behalf of Scott. People from all over the world were sending me messages about thinking of us and putting Scott's name in Temples in at least 20 different countries. People from Triathlon community were sending well wishes as well.


How can I explain, that even in my crumbling world I felt that angels were literally picking me up and giving me strength to keep on going. Utterly alone and often scared I felt God's love stronger than ever before. Accompanying my husband through this difficult journey I've come close to the vail of our physical existence. I could feel God so strongly and even see his hand.


I realized that that kind of buzz I heard the other night, could be from the hospital, informing me that Scott had passed away. It is interesting that sometimes I thought that I could handle that kind of news after all. Because I knew God was real.

18. My Lonely Battle

The worst part of sleeping now is waking up. When I open my eyes in the morning I immediately start breathing faster for I quickly remember that we are still in the shadow of death. What a wrong and lonely feeling that is, I cannot even describe it in words! I feel so crushed and yet I have to keep going in faith, since all miracles are preceded by faith first. So, faith and hope are the foundations I am building myself on every morning. Also, of course, charity. Without charity I would not be able to spend 6 hours a day by my husband's side, holding him and praying for him.


I love him, which inevitably leads me to believe in his recovery and hope for better news each day.


It's love that gives me determination to leave Scott at the end of the day with the thermometer showing at least 38 C (100's F). First thing I come in, I demand a bowl of glace (pronounced "glass") which is ice, and lots of cloths. I wipe his legs and arms with icy-cold cloths, the old-fashioned way, I guess, changing them whenever they get warm from his burning body. I go and find medical personnel for every strange beep on Scott's machines. I make those poor nurses who often speak no English give me report explaining to me everything they know. I think they try to avoid me sometimes, but I don't care. I come up to them with a piece of paper and have them write down all the medications Scott is on, so I can research what exactly they are for.


July 30 - Saturday


Vent O2 - 85%, blood O2 - 98%. Yesterday the reading was the same, which really made me happy. Not worse - good news! I could actually eat some lunch during my break.


Donna (a British lady form the Nice Ward, a friend of Karen) picked me up today and we spend together my 3 to 6 break. We just chatted and ate at the Brasserie (French Restaurant). She is ever so understanding, cheerful and optimistic! I need people like that around me to lift up my broken spirit and let me partake of normal life: healthy people, living plants, raging Mediterranean, traffic jams, gelatos (Italian ice-cream)...


I am back at the hospital and continue our battle. Only it does not look like a battle. It's quiet here. I breath in one accord with the breathing machine. What a wonderful time we live in! Just think about it: we are surrounded by so many miracles, like this ventilator, or antibiotics, or CT scans. These amazing machines along with doctor's knowledge and help from God are able to bring my sweetheart back to me. I still plan on that. I love him too much to think otherwise. Even if it takes lonely days without my kiddos, a bunch of gray hair, and a new addiction to Valium. I'll take it and I won't give up. Please, God, heal him!

17. Ground Zero

July 25 - Monday


It's that feeling again. It's what I was feeling like exactly 4 weeks ago when Scott just got to the hospital. It's the feeling that caused my knees to tremble, my chest to burn, my stomach to stick to my back, and my back to hunch and curl me up into a knot of despair. We are again at ground zero.

Scott's persistent, resistant infection is back and has mutated into an even stronger creature. In addition, he has a problem with gas exchange in his lungs which initially defines a new case of ARDS. All over again!!! Plus pneumonia. Plus total dependency on a c-pap machine that's turned on to 80%. Blood O2 is 95, amt. of breaths - 28.

Another crisis. What can I say? The fall is hard after I've been reassured by the ICU head doctor (not Dr. Goubauex), who predicted that by the end of this week, we'll be on the way to Germany.

What am I going to tell the kids?! This is so hard! This is beyond my capacity to cope. I am so weak, my body is trembling, I seem to have lost my ability to relax. Even physically exhausting myself by long walks between the visiting hours, I not only stopped eating but sleeping as well.

July 26 - Tuesday


As of this morning Scott is re-intubated and on life support. His ventilator reading is at a horrifying 100%.  The lady doctor showed me his bad chest x-ray on the computer. She matter-of-factly stated that there are only 2 other antibiotics left to try for this particular bacteria. And what, if they don't work? Then, most likely, it's - septic shock. To me it sounded like DEATH. I burst in tears and she realized how vulnerable I am to hearing such terrible update. She took me by my shoulders, and made me look her in the eye. In her straightforward English, she said:

"You are too pessimistic! You should not lose hope! We don't! Those are strong antibiotics and they should help! But you must be prepared, it's going to take a long time, and after he is better, he will be very... (she searched for the word in her mind), very ... fragile."

"I don't care, I just want him to live!!!"- I cried out.

She gave me a hug and then she asked me if I can sleep ok.

That day, I was leaving the hospital with a prescription strength anti-depressant. Something I never thought I'd have to take. EVER! But that was my only way to keep my hands from shaking and to help me get some sleep.

So, it's our last big fight. I trust in the Lord to save Scott. Last night, Scott told me how much he wanted to go home.

God is merciful. I will wait on the Lord. I will see His miracles! I will be with Scottie again! In this life.

16. The Healing Words

While I am panicking and slipping downhill with Scott, I read these words aloud in the ICU room where Scott is laying asleep with his mask on. In the midst of this agony, I feel lucky that I have one more tool to help me fight this battle. This tool are the words of the prophets that spoke with such clarity and profoundness to me personally and to all human beings. These healing words might not be a magic spell that can save one from physical death, but they can rescue our souls from dying. They certainly did so for me.

 Ether 12:27 And if men come unto me I will show unto them their^aweakness. I ^bgive unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my ^cgrace is sufficient for all men that ^dhumble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make ^eweak things become strong unto them.


Ether 12:18 And neither at any time hath any wrought miracles until after their faith; wherefore they first believed in the Son of God.


3 Nephi 21:10 But behold, the life of my servant shall be in my hand; therefore they shall not hurt him, although he shall be a marred because of them. Yet I will heal him, for I will show unto them that ^bmy wisdom is greater than the cunning of the devil.


 Psalms 27:14 ^aWait on the Lord: be of good ^bcourage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: ^cwait, I say, on the Lord.


 Doctrine and Covenants 58:4 For after much ^atribulation come the ^bblessings. Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be ^ccrowned with much ^dglory; the hour is not yet, but is nigh at hand.


Psalms 28:7 The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart ^atrusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.

 Psalm 23:1 The Lord is my ^ashepherd; I shall not ^bwant.

 2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he ^aleadeth me beside the still waters.

 3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of^arighteousness for his ^bname’s sake.

 4 Yea, though I ^awalk through the ^bvalley of the ^cshadow of^ddeath, I will fear no ^eevil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they ^fcomfort me.

 5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou ^aanointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

 6 Surely ^agoodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

I LOVE the Scriptures. They are the best medicine!