Healing

As my first year at North Davis Junior High school commenced in the 7^th Grade, I began with a degree of trepidation as I experienced multiple classes during a single day; as I was immersed in the cultural environment that would embrace and espouse peer pressure to dress a certain way (e.g. 2 pair of Adler socks); elimination of the comfort of a single classroom & teacher all day; a lengthened and culturally demonstrative walk to and from school; school lunch with a large contingence of classmates gathered in a ‘peer’ pressurized setting; and a great many other elements that accompanied my ‘advancement’ to a middle school. Not least among these adjustments was to spend part of a day in wood shop; and another period of time in ‘gym’. Gym was a period of time devoted to physical exercise and development of physical sports. As a part of that activity, a shower to clean one’s body was required to avoid undue perspiration throughout the remainder of the day. (While I participated in such communal showers; I found them embarrassing because I’d been taught modesty. I was also aware that communal diseases could be contracted in such environments [such as athlete’s foot]) Nevertheless, the necessary adjustments to my life accompanying junior high school could not be avoided; and I complied with my new environment.

As I progressed from a preteen in my elementary 6^th grade to an actual teen in my middle school 7^th grade; I was aware of the many changes that were taking place in my world. Not only was I aware of the cultural influences that took place in my everyday experiences with school and classmates; but I was aware of my church experiences that embraced and exposed me to priesthood responsibilities. I was no longer a childhood observer of church activity. Rather I was an ordained Deacon with a sacramental passing responsibility each Sunday morning at Sunday School; and a Sunday afternoon responsibility to do the same at our weekly Sacrament Meeting. Additionally, during MIA (Mutual Improvement Association [the youth organization of the day]) I was being initiated into the BSA (Boy Scouts of America) as a Tenderfoot scout. Wilderness ‘hikes’ were a new and sometimes intimidating experience occasioned by myself.

Amongst one of my first hiking experiences was to a campground east of Bountiful, Utah. (perhaps Buckland Flats campground now). As Jay, I prepared for what was to be one of our very first ‘hikes’ with the Boy Scouts, Mom acknowledged that we did not own sleeping bags to keep us warm during the night. The hike would occur late spring and we boys only had blankets to serve as our ‘sleeping bags’. Nevertheless, regardless of our mother’s anxieties about cold; we pressed to go on the ‘hike’ with our fellow boy scouts. And so, Jay and I joined with our scout colleagues and commenced our hike from the highest street above Bountiful. Hiking for a distance into a possible area; our scoutmaster declared it level and sufficiently clear to host a troop of young scouts. It being dark by the time we reached our ‘camping area’; we readily pitched our tents and laid out our bags for a night’s sleep. Four of us boys were to occupy a large tent with our bags lain aside one another. Jay was to be at one end of the group while I was to be at the other. We believed that the onset of spring would offer a warmer night’s weather and were not overly concerned that our blankets would be inadequate. Sleeping aside a friend (Carl Fink) and the tent’s canvas wall; I began to notice the cold as the night grew on. As the early morning hours advanced; I grew very cold and was surprised at how thin and inadequate my blankets were at covering my shivering body. I did all I could to avoid touching the cold tent wall; and grew increasingly alarmed at being unable to stop my involuntary shivering. I was confident Carl could feel me shivering next to him; but he slept on. I knew I was extremely cold and did not know what (if anything) I could do about it. It was by far the coldest I’d ever been; and I was sure that genuine danger was not too far distant, if I didn’t take some kind of action. As the very early gray light began to appear on the tent wall, I arose from my sleeping blankets and dressed myself as quickly as I could. Some boys seemed irritated at my early arousal and commented so. I knew they were comfortably resting warm in their sleeping bags and knew nothing of my dangerous cold. Emerging from the tent to an extinguished campfire facing our tent flaps, I started gathering twigs and tinder to elicit a campfire. Finally, I started a fire and stood for the first time in multiple hours thankfully absorbing the fire’s radiant heat. A few other boys joined me around the warm fire and I detected that they might’ve been cold too. It would be perhaps the coldest I would ever be in my life!

Homer's Market on the way to and from school.

As the latter months of my 7^th grade experience closed during the spring months of 1963, I began to experience what was to later be confirmed as athlete’s foot between the toes of my right foot. This fungus was not painful nor particularly worrisome. I was confident that I’d contracted it from the shower floors frequented during gym class. Inasmuch as the malady did not appear to be particularly dangerous; and inasmuch as it did not seem to be advancing quickly; I deemed it primarily a nuisance and treated it as such during the early months of that year’s summer vacation. I did not treat the fungus with any medicine and merely rubbed the skin between my toes to loosen and eliminate ‘dead’ skin; exposing reddened rubbed skin to air. (In retrospect, such behavior may have contributed to infection.) Additionally, the fungus seemed to be limited to my right foot and therefore did not seem to invoke any worry in me (Inasmuch as the fungus did not appear to be severely contagious - even to myself). Furthermore, inasmuch as Jay and I shared a double bed and he did not appear to be stricken; I did not become at all alarmed at what appeared to me to be a mere nuisance. During the latter months of the summer vacation, the reddened skin between my right toes began to accentuate some. Inasmuch as this did not introduce pain; I did not become alarmed even then. Rather, because the reddened skin between my toes exhibited a somewhat pronounced ‘itching’, I simply reminded myself that such ‘itching’ was a common symptom of athlete’s foot; and that a more vigorous ‘rubbing’ between my toes would release such ‘dead skin’. My toes could then be free to heal with refreshed air, hopefully promoting healing by exposing ‘new skin’.

This approach seemed to address my toes adequately; but as the new school year approached, the reddened skin itched more pronouncedly and began to ‘weep’ with a clear substance moistening my toes within my shoes. I also began to notice a slight swelling occurring within those toes most affected by the athlete’s foot. Following a couple of weeks with my foot (and toes) in this condition; I began to experience the sock of my right foot being matted with the ‘weeping’ liquid upon removal of my shoe; and my toes becoming even more swollen. As it began to exhibit difficulty, I endeavored to insert my shoe for a now full school day; using my condition to avoid gym showers. I was now more cognizant of my right foot’s condition as I walked throughout 8^th grade classes - along with to and from school attendances. At this point, the foot’s condition began to worsen. Being especially cognizant of not wanting to contribute to my parent’s financial concerns; I was willing to embrace whatever ‘remedy’ they recommended. As my foot worsened, Dad received some advice that a good soaking in a hot mineral spring would do my foot good and sterilize it of infection. So, he, mom and I drove to a mineral spring near Brigham City (might’ve been Crystal Hot Springs) and I slowly eased myself into the extremely hot mineral water. Both mom and dad were most supportive as I gradually immersed myself down the gradually sloping bank into the hot water. Following approximately 30 minutes in the water, I felt I couldn’t take much more heat and my parents welcomed me back to the bank where they waited. I certainly had hoped the treatment would assist healing; but it did not. (There, observing my parent’s anxious faces as I slowly edged myself from them; I saw the concern in their eyes for my well-being and basked [though intensely simmering in very hot mineral water] in their parental love for me – just one of their children). I cannot say whether or not the very hot mineral water may have exacerbated my circumstances. What I can say without equivocation is that my parent’s interest was in my well-being. Inasmuch as my foot had begun swelling more than before; I began resting it on another chair as I watched TV. I remember protecting my foot from passing siblings as my toes and foot became significantly more sensitive; subject to pain and notably festering. As a ‘last ditch effort’ we were advised to take me to the Great Salt Lake where its very salty water would ‘burn’ the infection from my foot. I remember being driven onto a causeway where the water was just off the road a step or two. By this time, the skin surrounding my two largest toes was beginning to succumb to swelling and significant deterioration. Such was beginning to reveal the tissue that the skin had covered; and the remainder of my foot and toes was definitely beginning to resemble my two largest toes – which were by far the worst. I was only able to step once into the briny water and the pain seared throughout my foot and lower leg. Though watched by my mother and siblings in the car (they having brought me there); I could not bring myself to dip my foot again, and I was directed to re-enter the car and bandage my foot. It took several hours for the pain to subside and I was left with nothing but the same foot now having been subjected to the salty brine.  That was the deepest pain I experienced throughout the many months entailed in that ordeal.

My foot was much, much worse!

Because I was beginning to exemplify significant distress associated with the obvious and observable deterioration of my foot; it’s extensive skin corrosion; and a significant development of sores and swelling – not only in my toes but well up my right foot – my mother required that I sleep with my sister Tammy in her bedroom upstairs next to my parents. While I was reluctant to invade my sister’s bedroom; I deemed that my circumstance warranted close care and submitted to mom’s requirement. I remember that the swelling was advancing quickly now. A couple of nights following sleeping in Tammy’s double bed with her; I arose one morning. Observing my right leg; I could see my leg swell as the infection drained from my previously horizontal torso into my right infected leg. Additionally, I could feel the pain accompanying the swelling as it took place in my deteriorating toes, foot, ankle and calf. I was aware that while the swelling was most pronounced at my foot; I detected that the infection was throughout my right leg all the way to my hip. I’d not been able to get my foot into a shoe for several weeks and the malady that encompassed my right leg now dominated my every waking move.

Acknowledging throughout the ordeal that our family was in no position to endure the cost of medical care for such a condition; we’d done all we could to encourage healing with what we knew; with what others had admonished; and what we could afford. (Hence the hot springs and salt water!) These measures had proven ineffectual and my leg was now approaching emergency status. Finally, my mother took me to a doctor and he recommended that I be taken to the hospital right away. Concerned with all matters; my mother took me to the Dee Hospital in Ogden that day and I was admitted immediately.

The old Dee Hospital

Inasmuch as my full attention had become focused on my own well-being; I knew nothing of the actions of family members after admittance to the hospital. I was rapidly admitted to a room of three older gentlemen who were in various stages of recuperation from earlier surgeries. My foot was propped up at the bottom of the bed on pillows and treated with (what appeared to be) infrared light and frequent dressings of a saline solution. Recognizing that I was now in the hands of capable medical professionals; I began to relax somewhat and adjust to the experiences of frequent nurse attention and hopefully improving foot and leg problems. Having slept through the first night and advanced through the next morning, those of the room suddenly became aware and animated that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated. This would be something I’d remember thereafter. Stunned by the news; we in the room were subdued in our interaction and quiet as the information sank in. Later that evening, nurses began to surround me and expressed urgency at getting me out of the ward in which I’d now spent two days. Thinking I’d somehow done something wrong; I asked regarding my ‘ouster’. The nurse explained that the infection evident in my inflamed foot and leg was staph infection and extremely dangerous to all – especially recuperative patients; exhibiting surgical incisions (which my fellow patients were). I was immediately wheeled from the room and down a hallway to a single room intended for those that were to be isolated from the rest of the hospital population.

Immediately I began injections of antibiotics; twice daily to subdue the dramatic amount of staph infection that was attacking my foot, leg, and now my entire body. The saline dressings were now renewed so frequently that my foot was moist from the gauze dressings applied frequently. And the infrared light was now present 24 hours per day. Those entering my room (doctors, nurses, orderlies and visitors) were required to wear hospital coverings; masking their faces and mouths in order to interact with me. Following a few days of injections, my backside and hips began to hurt constantly; and I would shift from side to side in order to lessen the pain. Though I should’ve rested and slept; my 13-year-old self did not readily submit to bedrest. This would be my routine for the next week or so; and I became seriously bored; ever concerned about the cost that such medical care would be incurred by my parents. Mom and Dad visited me almost every other day and it was intriguingly uncomfortable that they’d have to don protective coverings and masks to converse with their own son. After being in isolation at the hospital for about a week and a half, I had grown mildly discouraged. Although the swelling had moderated somewhat; I seemed to be displaying no real signs of improvement. The skin of my toes and foot had not shown any signs of recovery and my foot continued to weep with each change of the dressing. I was confined to my bed and while I appreciated the visits of my parents; I desired to return home and minimize such a severe cost to my beloved parents.

On the following Friday, my parents visited me briefly. The doctor requested a consultation with them just outside the curtain that was my door. Hearing them speak in hushed tones; I approached the doorway walking on my heal to avoid pain and contamination (I’d been confined to bed). Listening at the other side of my doorway curtain, I detected the voices of my doctor and parents. He was explaining to them that my foot had shown no real improvement; my big toe and adjacent toe being most impaired by the swelling and deterioration. He then said something that shocked and distressed me. He said that if improvement did not take place within the next couple of days; that he’d have to remove those toes in order to save the entire foot and leg. He then stated that if that took place; I’d have to learn to walk again – indicating that the big toes of one’s feet were instrumental in one’s being able to walk. I’d heard enough and scurried back to my bed in order to avoid chastisement. A few minutes later mom and dad entered my room and let on nothing regarding what had been discussed. (I’m sure they didn’t want to worry me.) They left shortly later and I was left to contemplate my future. Concerned and anxious that the circumstance had grown so dismal; I lay quietly – anxiously regarding my own well-being; and fraught with fear regarding my foot.

Two days later on Sunday mid-morning as I lay in bed; two young men (in their middle to late twenties) poked their heads inside my curtain doorway and asked if I would like to have a blessing. Being an active but not necessarily devout member of the Church; I’d not considered the option of a priesthood blessing. Quickly discerning within myself – “what could it hurt?”; I answered “sure!” To my surprise, these two young men dressed in white shirts and suits; walked right into my room without protective gowns or masks; and came to the edge of my bed. Having enough experience with Priesthood Blessings; I sat erect in my bed as they prepared to pronounce a Priesthood Blessing upon me. Without fanfare they anointed my head and placing their hands upon my head; they each pronounced their part. (I don’t remember any of the words.) Thinking nothing of the experience except that such was customary; I thanked them and they left as quickly as they’d appeared. The entire experience may have lasted 2 minutes and the young men were out the doorway. I was never to see nor speak of them again. Thinking no further regarding that blessing; I spent the remainder of the day as I would have any other day there in my room – changed dressings, injections, turning to avoid injection pain and turning to deter bed sores. Convalescence had grown tiresome. Oddly, I never mentioned the blessing or event to either of my parents.

• I’d wrestled with my condition for many, many months endeavoring to thwart continued deterioration – without success.
• Severe measures had been taken regardless of pain – and still the condition deteriorated.
• Even after the medical professionals had vigorously and extensively treated my condition; the very doctor indicated that they’d experienced little improvement and were in preparation to remove parts in order to preserve the limb.
• No one ever knew that I’d received a Priesthood Blessing that 2^nd Sunday – only myself and the two young men performing the blessing. A simple, unobtrusive blessing – authorized by God Himself - had preceded my renewed foot by a matter of hours. The redness and swelling had subsided so dramatically as to render the foot as distinctly different from that wrapped in saline soaked gauze the night before.
• The very next morning; improvements were so dramatic as to discontinue intensive care 24 hours later; and leave me to myself to resume the normal life of a 13-year-old teen.