How Kyle Lost His Piggy (And It Didn't Come Home Again)

Kyle likes us to get the maximum amount we have to pay for medical bills out of the way right at the first of the year. Last year he spent the first week of the year in the hospital. He out did himself this year. The night before Thanksgiving Kyle and I were cleaning my parents laundry room and pantry and I knocked a big can of pumpkin off of a table onto his bare foot. It cut open the 2 smallest toes and bruised it. On Monday when we went into Dr. Heninger they did an x-ray to make sure it wasn't broken. On Thursday, December 13th Kyle's toe appeared to be mostly healed. Friday night when he changed the bandages the sore was open and didn't look very good. Saturday it was so full of infection it broke open a place at the bottom of the toe to drain. We went into the ER at the Cache Valley Specialty Hospital. He ended up being admitted and started on IV antibiotics immediately.

By Sunday evening when Dr. Heninger got back in town the whole toe was basically one large wound and infection was continuously pouring out of it. It was decided that as soon as they could arrange it he would need to take Kyle into surgery and remove the dead tissue, which would most likely involve removing his toe. 

Kyle was very resistant to the idea. I wasn't sure he was going to sign the consent form right up until they took him into surgery. Even all these weeks later he still feels something should have been able to be done to save it. It's been a month and he hasn't looked at it yet. They removed the toe and a little of the tissue surrounding it.

On Wednesday when Kyle was released from the hospital I took him straight to the clinic and they put him in the hyperbaric chamber for treatment. He has been going there for 2 hours every weekday since then.  Since the surgery he has developed sores on his left foot that he is now receiving the treatment for and the incision from the surgery has healed. He wears an orthopedic boot on his left foot. Hopefully by the end of next week we can get everything healed and him back home in Salt Lake with me.

I have day by day pictures of the wound progression, but trust me when I say you don't want to see them.

A Silent Winter Night

As I was sitting in my room Sunday night I glanced over at the clock and realized it was about 6:00 p.m. My mind rushed back to 27 years ago when January 13th also fell on a Sunday night. I was 10 years old. My memories of the night begin with me dressed in my winter coat and moon boots and walking out the front door. Mom had tried to call over to Grandpa and Grandma Wright's to see if they wanted to come over for family home evening but their line was busy, so I was going over to find out. I remember the sound of the storm door banging loudly behind me in the quiet of the winter night. With all the kids in and out of that house hinges never lasted long. There was always a path shoveled between the two houses but we had fresh snow and a large lawn stretched out unmarked and white before me. I took my time tromping across the lawn through the snow, forging my own path. It was so quiet and peaceful.

I remember getting to the back door and the warmth that enveloped me as I went inside. The lingering aroma of the roast, mashed potatoes, and fresh rolls Grandma fed us earlier for dinner still lingered in the air. I should have taken my boots off so I didn't track snow, but for some reason I left them on. I walked up the back stairs and into the study where Grandpa and Grandma should have been. It was empty and I heard Grandma's voice from their bedroom so I continued through the study and down the short hall into the bedroom. At that time the bed was facing the door. Grandpa was laying in bed and Grandma was standing next to him holding the phone. When she looked up and saw me she yelled the words I have never forgotten, "Kami, get your Dad I think he's gone." 

I didn't understand at that moment exactly what that meant, but I knew I needed my Dad. I ran as fast as my short legs could carry me back through the study down the stairs and out the door. This time over the path as fast as I could run. Bursting into my house yelling, "Dad! Grandma says Grandpa is gone and you need to come quick." I can see my Dad jump off of the red couch and run down the hall for shoes and out the front door with Mom not that far behind him. Her telling us kids to stay there.

Jan, Tyler and I huddled together on the couch and watched the cars start showing up over at Grandpa and Grandma's house. Eventually the phone rang and Mom told me what I already knew deep in my heart. My beloved Grandpa was dead.

January 13, 1985 LaMar J. Wright had a heart attack and died while taking a nap. My Mom was only 31 years old with 3 kids. I can't even imagine the pain of losing my Dad now at 37, yet alone if it had been 6 years ago.  I have never forgotten that moment in time. It is ingrained in my mind and every now and then it comes back and I remember the events of that fateful night as clearly as if I was there in that moment again. I can't believe it has been 27 years since we lost him and 7 since Grandma passed away. I still miss them so much.