It’s My Potty and I’ll Cry If I Want To

In our family, we’ve always been fairly open with what goes on in the bathroom, mainly so children and grandchildren won’t grow up feeling dirty or nasty or bad about themselves because of  their innocent curiosity regarding their own bodies and how they function. If they have a question, we give age-appropriate answers with proper medical terms and explain that these kinds of things should not be talked about outside of the family. That is, don’t discuss these things with the kids at school.

In our home today, TerriLu and I (to our grandchildren we are Nammy and Papa) try to maintain privacy when everyone comes to visit, but when grandkids are old enough to work doorknobs that have no locks, what are you gonna do?

We recently had our entire posterity (eight kids (counting the spouses as our children) and thirteen grandkids) at the house over two consecutive weekends. The two families from out of state with ten of our grandchildren and their parental units, came on two separate weekends, and the local grandkids with parents and our recently married son with his sweet wife, dropped by several times to see each everyone and let the cousins play in the playhouse under the stairs, with the toys in the toy closet, on the trampoline in the way backyard by the creek, and at two different parks (affectionately nicknamed Nammy’s Park and Papa’s Park). Additionally, cousins splashed in the in the over-sized master tub together and enjoyed playing with the new boats and the new plastic duck, fish, and turtle, as well as the old bath toys.

Maybe I should take a moment to explain a few things about our house, beginning with the layout of our home.

TerriLu and I are now officially empty nesters. We were temporary empty nesters when William went off to two semesters of college, and then he returned home so once again we were not empty nesters. Then he went off to North Carolina to serve a mission for the Church and we were again empty nesters. Then he returned home and we were not empty nesters again, and so on. So we were off-and-on empty nesters until Will married his sweetheart, Kari, last August, and we officially booted him out of our nest, and now we are permanent empty nesters.

Our modest, two-story home contains approximately 2,200 square feet, with half on each level. The oversized master bedroom with the adjacent master bathroom with a giant bathtub and a toilet closet/room and a large walk-on closet, two other bedrooms, and an additional full bath, occupy the second story. The main floor boasts the kitchen preparation and dining areas, the family room, the living room, the library/harp/toy-play  room, the utility room, and a half bathroom. Our family room off the kitchen is not very spacious and when everyone comes to visit, we can seriously use a larger family room. So with her amazing innate creativity and ingenuity, TerriLu redesigned the upstairs without remodeling the house or tearing out walls, mostly.

We gave our solid-oak, king-sized bed with two nightstands (we kept the two dressers) to Rick and Melissa because they wanted it and none of the other kids did, and Rick and Melissa could use it with their many kids who like to crawl into their bed in the wee hours of the morning. In addition to the master bedroom suite and a full bathroom, our upper story of the house includes two other smaller bedrooms. So TerriLu put two antique double beds in the other two bedrooms, and we started using the master bedroom as the TV/family room. We slept in one of the two smaller bedrooms and used the other as a guest bedroom. The master bedroom is actually over-sized for our small home, but it works great as a TV room and family room. We bought a 50-inch, flat-panel television and a couple of leather loveseat recliner couches from RC Willey. We bought a tall, heavy desk (we paid an extra $50 to have two husky, gorilla guys from RC Willey deliver everything all the way up the stairs and into the TV/family room) for my computer work and my organized paper mess in the file cabinets, on the desk, on the printers, and in several piles on the floor.

The master suite bathroom and the toilet room do not have pass-through door locks because most spouses aren’t too concerned about each other’s privacy, or at least they can close the toilet room door if aromas or sounds become bothersome, and sometimes they do. We did install a new, privacy lock on our new smaller bedroom for some obvious privacy reasons when William was still living at home.

For the above reasons, there are no locks on the master bathroom door and the toilet room door. Another reason for no locks is that we don’t want curious, exploring little grandchildren getting accidentally locked in the bathroom or toilet, and then we can’t find one of those little “keys” to open the doors. After fumbling through the toolkit in the garage, we can eventually find our jeweler’s set of screwdrivers to open the door, but we don’t want to take the risk of an accident or even a few scary, moments for a trapped grandchild.

So, all that dialogue was to explain our house layout and the fact that we have no locks in the new TV/family room.

So when the grandkids and their parents visit and I take a shower, I shut the door to the master bathroom while the kids play in the adjacent TV/family room. Invariably, one of our older granddaughters (ages six to ten) will open the door and ask me where I’m currently hiding the sugarless gum from the younger kids and can she please have a cinnamon-flavored piece. Without trying to look obvious, I keep my back to her as I explain where the packages are on the dresser in the master walk-in closet. So while she rummages through the items on the dresser, I futilely try to add a few more soap bubbles to appropriate body parts in case she wants to thank me on the way out.

Just a short, yet related comment… I have an incurable disease called panhypopituitarism which means I have no natural hormones in my body. With the hormone replacement therapy and the ten other prescription medications I take for a variety of ailments, I have a hard time urinating, even with a hefty dose of Flomax (yeah, it does pretty much what it sounds like it does). To make the process easier at home, I sit on the toilet to potty, instead of standing like most males. By sitting, I can relax all the leg and pelvic-region muscles and that just makes it easier to potty. In public restrooms I find it difficult to potty when I’m standing and I detest sitting on a public restroom toilet.

And then there is the issue of “stage fright” for men peeing in the urinal in a public restroom. Stage fright means that the man “freezes up” and finds it very difficult to urinate when others are in the same public restroom. My totally unscientific research indicates that roughly half of all men struggle to urinate with others around. I am very definitely in the one-half group with stage fright. It may stem from my childhood when potty and poop and all things bathroom related were disgustingly dirty and gross. And then once in high school I was standing at a urinal when another guy walked in and said rather loudly, “Hey, Ross. What’re you doing?”

So I find it hard to urinate with anyone around (except for TerriLu) and I sit when I urinate for easier function. When I used to work at HP and I had to go, I sometimes spent twenty minutes finding a restroom that was devoid of humans – I went from floor to floor and building to building, trying not to look conspicuous. If I entered a restroom that was occupied, I would just wash my hands and leave. I had very clean hands at HP.

Let me also just say that TerriLu and I love all the grandchildren just the same – we have no favorites. However, the granddaughters, ages two to four, have a special place in my heart. They are so innocent and sweet and accepting, and when they get together with grandparents, their little world still includes Nammy and Papa (TerriLu and me). As they get older, they get more independent and their interests shift to clothes, iPods, music, cell phones, and other more interesting things.

One of our potty-training granddaughters, age two almost three, is fascinated with the process of pottying, and not just her own. For privacy’s sake and her parent’s embarrassment’s sake and to maintain anonymity, I’ll just call her Taylor. Taylor, herself, wouldn’t be at all embarrassed by what follows, until she’s a teenager and reads this. She and her older sister, who I’ll call Kylie, know more than I know about the birds and the bees. They know that boys have a penis and girls have a ‘gina. In their home there are five girls, counting Mommy and Lulu, the beloved boxer who  “ ‘stroyed the backyard,” according to Kyle (I love Kylie’s vocabulary especially for a four-year old – Mom and Dad are doing an excellent job of teaching), and there is but one boy in the household, Daddy. Kylie and Taylor pretty much grasp how babies are made, especially Kylie, since they have a baby sister who I’ll call Brooklyn.

Taylor is just about done potty training, but she is still very interested in the procedure. She usually invites me into the bathroom to watch her go potty, I think mostly to show off her new talent – she is proud of herself and rightly so.

So the other weekend, with loads of grandkids in the house and in the new, aforementioned upstairs TV/family room, I quietly shut the bathroom door and went into the toilet room to go potty. While seated comfortably, but just before I could relax my leg and pelvic-region muscles, I heard the bathroom door open, followed by the tapping of little feet on the tile bathroom floor.

“Hi, Papa!” Taylor said standing directly in front of me with her usual sweet grin. “You go potty?”

“Yes, Taylor. Papa’s going potty.”

“I watch you go potty.”

“Honey, maybe you can just watch the movie in the family room until Papa is done,” I said, worrying more about my stage fright than even modesty. Remember, I sit so there isn’t anything to see.

Ignoring my suggestion, Taylor squeezed behind the toilet room door, and said, “I shut the door.”

“No, Sweetie, we need to leave the door open,” I squawked with more concern.

I insisted on keeping the door wide open, but Taylor did stand right in front of me. Not hearing any tinkling sounds, she asked, “You go potty now?”

As I stared into her beautiful, blue, innocent eyes, I said, “Honey, Papa’s trying. Papa’s trying.”

After a minute or so I finished with a little toot to boot. Taylor’s eye got wide as she asked excitedly, “You have gas?”

“Yes,” I sighed with resignation. “Papa had gas.” Then I added, “Now, can you go play, Sweetie.”

Without a word, Taylor twirled around and strolled back out to the new TV/family room. As I washed my hands at the sink, I just smiled at the mirror and shook my head.

Panhypopituitarism and Self-Reliance

(This is a slightly modified talk I gave at church a few years ago…)

In 1997 we just finished building our dream home on five acres. We then took three years to put in an acre of lawn and landscaping with pavers, sprinkler systems, and much more. It took all of our vacation time and all of our discretional income just to grow it and maintain it.

After living in our dream home for a while, within a few days of each other, TerriLu and I independently had the strongest impression that we needed to sell our dream home and downsize. The spiritual prompting was so powerful that we never questioned it.

Three years after building our dream house, we moved out. Our square footage dropped in half, our five acres dropped to a fourth of an acre, but most importantly our house payment dropped by more than one half and became a very comfortable and small percentage of our income and it was on a fifteen-year loan instead of thirty.

With what was coming ahead of us, we never would have survived if we had still been in our dream home. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, it was the headlight of an oncoming train.

Joseph in Egypt told Pharaoh there would be exactly seven years of plenty and then exactly seven years of famine (Gen. 41:1-45). We had no warning that we would have three years of plenty and so far eight years of famine with a lifetime of famine ahead of us. These days, we don’t have our own personal “Joseph” to tell us exactly when our personal or family years of plenty will start and end and when our personal or family famine will start and end. We do have prophets who have spoken on a broad level that these are turbulent times and we need to prepare in many ways to be more Self-Reliant.

The prophets speak to and warn the church collectively and generally, but it is usually a spiritual prompting that addresses anything at the individual or family level. These promptings do not usually come with all the details about what will happen—they usually just prompt you to do something. We had no detailed warning that years of famine were just around the corner, but the prompting gave us three years to prepare—for what, we didn’t know. We just followed the promptings.

So what happened in 2002? My pituitary gland stopped functioning. That sounds fairly benign, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s just a small hormone gland carefully protected in the center of the head. How big of a problem could that be, right?

Actually, it’s a very big problem. It’s called panhypopituitarism meaning complete loss of function of the pituitary gland. It is quite rare—statistically based on the Treasure Valley population there should be 3½ people with panhypopituitarism. I haven’t met any of the others but I would actually like to meet the half person. Actually, I might be the half person…

The pituitary gland is called the “master” gland because it pretty much tells all the major hormone glands in the body what to do and when to do it.

That may not sound like much, but when your pituitary gland shuts down, your entire endocrine system or hormone system pretty much shuts down. When that happens, a boatload of awful symptoms strike the body. These symptoms taken individually wouldn’t be too bad, but together they are devastating. They include fatigue, hot flashes, weakness, muscle spasms, muscle pain, muscle loss, joint pain, joint stiffness, flu-like symptoms, body aches, cold sweats, night sweats, weight gain, dizziness, depression, intolerance to cold, mood swings, loss of body hair, decreased taste and smell, nausea, slow speech, shortened stature, drowsiness, to name about half. Imagine your worst day you have ever had with the flu or other sickness, multiply that times ten, and that’s a good day for someone with a dead pituitary gland and it goes on 24×7. Some days you feel liking dying and you would if the Lord were taking volunteers. It feels like an out-of-body experience: you’re in some strange body and nothing works right. Hormones are not only vital to have a properly functioning body, but they are also crucial to staying alive.

Needless to say, I have tremendous sympathy and empathy for women and all the hormone adjustments they deal with in life.

I have had panhypopituitarism since 2002  and most likely will have it for life. It took almost a year for the doctors to figure it out. And when they did, we began the long, tedious process of trying to bring my hormones back up to approximate appropriate levels without upsetting the body too quickly.

A critical hormone is the corticosteroid secreted by the adrenal glands that sit atop the kidneys. One thing the corticosteroids do is help your body deal with stress, whether it is physical, mental, or emotional stress. In a normal body under stress, the adrenal glands release the right amount of the steroids into the body at just the right time. In my case I take a tablet in the morning to hopefully hit an average amount for the day. Then my body doesn’t deal well with any extra physical, mental, or emotional stress during the day because my adrenals aren’t producing corticosteroids during stressful periods.

With severe stress on the body, such as in a car crash or during surgery, the doctors must load me up with corticosteroids, or I will likely die on the table, not from the crash or the surgery but because my body can’t deal with the stress without massive amounts of corticosteroids.

The disease has impacted other areas of my body, including the bones and joints. Working in harmony with my degenerative-disc disease, the disease has nearly crushed my low back. I had one back surgery with six laminectomies and a second back surgery to fuse three vertebrae together with metal and bone and I think some duct tape and chicken wire. A second back surgery fused a couple more discs. I also have a nerve stimulator implant in my low back which is like sitting constantly on an electric fence.

Then they found I have sleep apnea. Then I had gallbladder surgery and a pesky parasite in my stomach that Dr. Livingston blasted away with the heavy-duty medications. I also suffer from forgetfulness—I can’t remember what I’ve told someone already. I also suffer from forgetfulness—I can’t remember what I’ve told someone already. I also have developed mental lapses, exhaustion, gastritis, high-blood pressure, and Schaumburg Disease which is poor circulation in the legs.

So today that’s who and what I am medically, physically, emotionally, and mentally, but at least not spiritually.

In the beginning I was too weak and exhausted to even make it to church. The rumor was that I was inactive and on drugs, which is in fact a fairly accurate description. As I slowly got better, I started coming to Sacrament meeting only, where I could hold up for an hour and fifteen minutes. As I got stronger I stayed longer.

Today I’m fairly stable. The problems are still all there—but many of the symptoms have stabilized.

I have my very own miniature pharmacy at home as every day I take fourteen different prescription medications plus a pile of vitamins:

At four prescribed times of the day I swallow a handful of pills. I have so many prescriptions that everybody at the Albertson’s pharmacy knows me by my first and last name. Before changing all my meds to a mail-order pharmacy, I think I was their single biggest customer. They even recognize my voice on the phone. That’s a bad sign when the entire pharmacy staff knows you that well.

I have one frustration. Because I’m not wearing a cast and I don’t have any visible scars and I don’t have crutches or a walker or wheelchair or anything, people don’t understand that I have these very horrible things going on inside of me, chemically, mentally, and emotionally. I only have energy to put up a good front at this intensity for so long and then I go home and crash. People usually look at me and think, “Well, he looks okay to me. He can’t be that bad off.”

I know I look okay. In fact, I should point out that I am really handsome. And I have to point out my handsomeness because if I don’t, nobody seems to notice. Even when I do point it out they still say, “Well, um, sorry, I just don’t see it.” The only people who do actually see how handsome I am are my wife, those at least one hundred yards away, and those who up close are not wearing their glasses. So just remove your eye glasses and you’ll see how much better looking I am.

I’ve shared my recent medical history, not looking for sympathy, but to give you a clear picture of our last eight years and how they relate to Self-Reliance. In just being here, I serve as my own visual aid.

Some of you may wonder how I can speak so openly about these things.  I tell you, any pride on my part was vaporized in the explosion when the hormones blew up. Also, I am speaking of these things because they are real and they could happen to you and your family. Are you prepared?

Eight years ago I think we thought that we were living all the principles of Self-Reliance and Provident Living. In fact, if you had asked shortly before the illness hit, we would have said, “Yes, we are all set. We are well prepared.” And we were in many ways. However, we could have been a lot more prepared for this affliction affecting my health and my employment!

I was placed on full medical disability which dropped our income by 25%. How grateful we are that we paid those disability insurance premiums or we would have had nothing. At the same time our out-of-pocket medical bills escalated quickly to an average of just under $25,000 per year for eight years now. Just my co-pay on all those prescriptions is around $5,000 a year.

So how did we cope with all this? At first, not very well. All of these things hit so hard and so fast and with such deadly accuracy at all the key stressors physically, mentally, chemically, and emotionally, that we didn’t cope very well. At first I was so sick and weak and exhausted that I couldn’t do anything except get in the car and go to doctor appointments and for medical tests.

Employment: I worked at HP for twenty-one years. I expected to work forty years for HP.

An unexpected and unplanned illness got in the way of that goal. I first went on disability for six months and HP promised me the same or similar job when I came back. Well, when I returned, they couldn’t find the same or a similar job so they put me in a really different job and with my disability, for the first time in my career, I failed miserably.

Eight months into the failing job I was put back on fulltime disability. A year later I got a nice letter from the company saying they were terminating their association with me, taking my name off the database, and in fact did not guarantee any job whatsoever, if and when I might return to work. …Oh, and have a nice day.

Resource Management: How did we cope with the financial side of things? Well, we managed our resources by burning right through them. We used our savings. We sold all of our stock. We refinanced the house. And we borrowed $32,000 on a loan out of our retirement. We sold my nice four-wheel drive truck and I started driving the old teenage clunker, a giant Ford LTD Crown Victoria that was approximately the size and weight of a barge. But it ran better than I did, and it was more reliable and dependable than I was—at one point the family considered trading me in for a second one.

We also sold the motorcycles. TerriLu got a job. We stopped eating at restaurants, and I love Italian, and Mexican, and Chinese food, and pizza. We even stopped going to fast-food places which I also really love. We stopped buying junk food with no nutritional value, and I love junk food with no nutritional value. It’s one of my leading qualities.

Once when TerriLu was sick I had to do the grocery shopping. When I got all my groceries on the conveyer belt, the checker said, “Having a party?” With a confused look on my face, I asked, “No, I’m buying groceries. Why do you think that?” And the checker slowly looked over at the potato chips, nachos, Fritos, refried-bean dip, soda pop, ice cream, chocolate sauce, hot fudge, butterscotch, caramel, peanuts, popcorn, and red licorice vines, and said, “Uh, no reason.” And TerriLu responded the same way when I got home. So I’m not allowed to do any grocery shopping anymore, unless under the direct supervision of a mature adult.

In addition to nixing the junk food, we also stopped all entertainment that cost money: No going out to movies, no “going-out” on date nights, no vacations, no Lagoon, no Boondocks, no Po-Jo’s, no hockey games… nadda, nothing, zilch, zip. We pretty much cleared out all the fun. And we started living on Food Storage which is also not fun. The most fun we had was watching my legs twitch from the nerve damage in my back.

Speaking of Food Storage and Emergency Preparedness: Are you spending on unnecessary luxury items when you could be building up food storage? Are you spending on necessary items, like a car parked nicely in the garage but only the model with all the bells and whistles. Instead you could be converting at least the bells and whistles into wheat and beans stored nicely in the garage. How prepared are you for a small local emergency, or for a large personal or family emergency?

For eight years my wife has lived with and cared for a living, breathing medical nightmare. For a long time we had many doctor appointments every week. One week we had eleven appointments —usually it was six to eight. I couldn’t drive so TerriLu had to haul me around everywhere to doctors and to do blood tests and MRIs and x-rays and CT scans and to get giant needles stuck in my back and arms and other tests.

In the beginning when my body had more estrogen than testosterone, TerriLu would often find me sobbing, on the floor, under the desk, in a fetal position. She has truly been an angel with tremendous patience. I cannot say enough about her endurance and her love and her compassion through everything.

Men, I would ask you, “Are you as caring and kind and patient as you could be when your wife’s hormones are out of whack, whether it is due to pregnancy, PMS, periods, menopause, or anything else.” If you are not, you better learn to be. Since my Machoectomy, that is, losing my hormones, I have much greater empathy for the ups and downs of women’s hormones.

Someone asked us how this has affected us spiritually. We feel so blessed. Nothing important has changed for the worse. So what if we have a smaller house instead of a dream home. So what if we have a reduced income that will not increase with inflation. So what if I don’t drive a 4×4 pickup? So what if I don’t have the gymnast physique and health I had in high school. So what if in this life I’ll never be healthier than 75%? So what if my body is a decade or more older than my actual age. So what if we only have a fourth of an acre to take care of—wait, that’s actually a plus.

And of course, I still have my good looks—and some of you still haven’t taken off your glasses so you can see for yourself.

I testify that none of those things matter in the least degree. A few years ago I held my father’s hand as he passed away and the year before I held my mother’s hand as she passed away. I’m here to say, they took nothing of this world with them—not their house, not their cars, not their retirement, nadda, nothing, zilch, zip. Near the end, nothing in this world really mattered to them — it’s really just stuff anyway.

And if waiting for us are worlds without number, can anything of this world really matter?

My parents may not have taken anything of this world with them, but they had plenty of things already there waiting for them. It’s all the treasures in heaven they were building throughout their lives on earth, and oh, they built a lot of those treasures by loving and caring for, and helping others, through selfless service over many years.

What really matters, we still have. We still have kept all our covenants. We still are temple worthy. We still have our testimonies and in fact, they are even stronger because we have had to rely more on the Lord and that brings us closer to Him. We are still on the strait and narrow way and we’re still headed in the right direction. Even though my parents are gone, I am still sealed to them, and we feel them close from time to time. We still have our family, and whoa, twelve grandchildren!!!

Someone said that grandchildren are God’s gift for getting old. Someone else said, “The reason grandchildren and grandparents make such great allies, is because they share a common enemy.” I am so grateful that that is not the case in our family. We love are children just as much as the grandchildren – we just don’t spoil our children as much. My favorite bumper sticker is: If Mom OR Dad says No, Call 1-800-GRANDMA.

For the most part we have just learned to live life a little differently. It’s amazing what Self-Reliance adjustments we can endure when we have to. Over the last eight years we have actually learned to live happily with those adjustments.

So why have I told you all this? It’s not for your sympathy. It’s not because we’ve handled all these trials perfectly or that we are the poster-family for Self-Reliance. We are not!

I’ve shared this because it’s real and it could happen to you. It really could. We never expected it. We took both my health and my employment for granted. I had perfect health for forty-four years and always did great in any job. I had been a gymnast in high school, an athlete, I was healthy and strong. I could walk on my hands across the gymnasium floor — which always comes in handy when you have muddy shoes and a clean carpet. Obviously, from my “enhanced” girth I’m no longer an athlete…but I may still qualify on a technicality: I am on steroids, as I already mentioned.

In twenty-one years at Hewlett-Packard I was rarely too sick to work, or if I was sick, I worked right through it. I only missed work when I was recovering from surgeries and one time with bronchitis and the doctor made me stay home to recover. I had boundless energy to complete any project. I worked all nighters. I traveled all over North America and Europe.

And suddenly that all changed—it came to a grinding, screeching halt. I couldn’t do any of it. I could barely make toast in the morning without crying.

And so I ask, “Are you ready, just in case something happens to your health or to your employment or both?”

Are you applying the principles of the Self-Reliance now so you are ready then? When the hurricane hits, it’s a little late to board up the windows.

Provident Living is not just having several barrels of wheat in your garage and a 72-hour kit containing a spare T-shirt with a couple of granola bars. I’m asking much more than that…

I’m asking: Are you living on less than you earn, or do you spend everything you earn and borrow more? Do you have savings equal to six months’ pay? Do you have resources to draw from, such as investments, stock, real estate, and more?

Is your house payment considerably lower than the limits allowed by banks or are you maxed out? Are your cars completely paid for or do you have large loans on luxury vehicles? Do you have money for fun that could actually pay off those school loans sooner? Do you pay your credit cards in full each month or is there a balance carried over? Have you gotten a second mortgage to buy expensive toys or to go on a nice vacation? Do you have a supply of food to feed your entire family for a year? For that matter, can you make anything with plain, raw wheat? More precisely, can you make anything with wheat that your family can and will actually eat? It’s kind of late to build the ark when the rain starts falling.

If you have all of the above in place and under control with plenty of cushion, that is wonderful and I am thrilled for you. But if you are not so safe and don’t have much cushion, then you may need to think more about Self-Reliance and Provident Living principles.

Do you feel at all overextended? Do you feel pressure at work or at home? Are you stressed out? If you are stressed out, at least you now know from our inspired discussion on the adrenal glands that they release natural corticosteroids to help you deal with the stress…but the corticosteroids won’t pay the bills. And the bills may be causing much of the stress you feel.

Even in our downsized condition, we still haven’t completely made it. We are still working through many things. But by following those original spiritual promptings, we at least have our heads above water, still in the rapids, on some days, of course, but above water.

In a conference talk in October 2004, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin said, “We should end our fixation on wealth. It is only a means to an end, which end should ultimately be the building up of the kingdom of God. I feel that some are so concerned about the type of car they drive, the expensive clothes they wear, or the size of their house in comparison to others that they lose sight of the weightier matters.⁸ We must be careful in our daily lives that we do not allow the things of this world to take precedence over spiritual things.” (Joseph B. Wirthlin, Oct Conf 2004)

This venerable apostle is not saying it is bad or evil to be wealthy. He is just saying we need to have our priorities straight, and not be so focused on worldly things that we miss the more important spiritual things. And we need to be prepared to give it all up to the Lord, if required, unlike the rich man who approached the Savior and asked what he needed to do to enter the kingdom. The Savior recited several commandments and the man said, “All these things have I done from my youth up.” And the Savior said, “Yet lackest thou one thing: sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me. And when he heard this, he was very sorrowful: for he was very rich.” (Luke 18:18-25, Mark 10:25).

Now, the Lord is not asking us to give it all away. But that’s a good question to ponder, “Would you, if the Lord or his prophet asked you to? Could you part with some things that you really, really like?” When my parents passed on, they left everything behind.

At a leadership training meeting in 2003, President Hinckley said, “We are living in difficult times…. We do not know what is just over the horizon. We do not know what the economy is going to do…. There is a great deal of unemployment…. I see a great imprudence on the part of so many of our people, saddling themselves with debt, homes that are costly, automobiles that have to have all the bells and whistles….and credit card debt…. I don’t what to cry calamity. I want to speak of wisdom and restraint and discipline and…encourage our people to be modest in their expenditures.” (President Gordon B. Hinckley, from leadership training meeting, Spanish Fork Utah Regional Conference, February 15, 2003, Church News, week ending May 7, 2005, page 2).

The easiest financial plan I know of is: Starting at the earliest age, preferably by 25 and continuing until retirement, put 10% into tithing, 10% into retirement, 10% into savings, a percentage into fast offerings, temple building, missionary work, humanitarian, and Perpetual Education. And then you can just about blow the rest on taxes, big homes, fancy cars, nice vacations, and anything you want. You will become wealthy!

And if you want to build up extra treasures in heaven with some of your wealth on earth, increase the extra percentage to the Lord’s kingdom on earth and find ways in the world to bless those who are less fortunate.

I am not here to judge you, I am not here to condemn you, and I am not saying that we have done anything extraordinary or special—we have not. We are just hanging in there.

I am here simply to raise your awareness of the combined voice of the First Presidency, the Quorum of the Twelve, the Presiding Bishopric, and the General Relief Society presidency, as outlined in the Church Provident Living principles. These are the words of prophets, seers, and revelators to all of us, generally as a people and as followers of Jesus Christ. Now, individually and with the Lord’s help in serious prayer, you must judge yourself and see where you fit in the Lord’s plan for Self-Reliance for our times.

Maybe everyone here is totally, precisely, exactly in perfect financial shape and your Provident Living situation is in perfect order. Wonderful! Then you really didn’t have to listen to all this, other than getting an insightful overview on the endocrine system.

If you are in that perfect financial condition, you can still benefit by prayerfully considering the other areas of Provident Living and also by teaching the principles to your children, even your adult children, and your grandchildren. Teach them, and this is important, not to run out and put today on credit cards what you have taken forty years to accumulate.

Maybe there is just one person or one family here today that is living financially on the edge or very close to the edge and the spirit will prompt you to make some critical changes, to make a few necessary adjustments in your Self-Reliance and Provident Living.

Maybe one person here is years or just months away from a medical fiasco or an employment upheaval and you will be prompted by the spirit to make some preparations, even though you may not have a clue what you are preparing for. But several years or months from now you will be grateful that you followed the prompting. It’s a little late to prepare once the tornado hits.

I hope and pray that you have a good, healthy, happy, wonderful life, but if something unexpected comes into your life, I hope and pray that you will be prepared through Self-Reliance and Provident Living, and still be happy, and keep your faith in the Lord.

Someone said, “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and take what comes.” I hope for the best for each of you, but I ask you to prepare for the worst, and I pray that you have the faith to take whatever comes.

I know that there are people who have had or now have debilitating illnesses and difficult times worse than what I have described in our home. My thoughts and prayers reach out to you. Every day I see at least one person who has life much worse than I have, and for whom I have the deepest sympathy and empathy. I realize each day how many blessings we have from the Lord.

I also hope and pray that you will listen for the spiritual promptings so you hear them or feel them, and even more importantly, that you follow them.

I testify that the Lord helps those who help themselves and that he wants us to do all in our power to care for ourselves through Self-Reliance.

The eternal treasures, the only lasting treasures, are the treasures we build in heaven, not the treasures of the world. You can have anything in this world with money, but money doesn’t buy a thing in heaven, and how much money you had on earth doesn’t matter in the least, except for how you used it to help build up the kingdom and bless others.

I testify that the real things that matter are making and keeping our covenants, staying temple worthy, strengthening our testimonies, blessing our families, staying on the path in the right direction, serving where we are called to serve in the kingdom, whether the calling be great or small.

Panhypopituitarism – The Heartbreak of No Hormones

In February of 2004 I went on permanent, fulltime disability from work. Thankfully, I had signed us up for disability insurance and we paid the premiums for twenty years to be able to get 75 percent of my last income, but with no cost of living adjustments.

I got very sick near the end of 2002 and it took nine stressful months for the many doctors to figure out the problem was a non-functioning pituitary gland, a rare, but complex and serious disease known as panhypopituitarism. I also had several related maladies and low-back problems. For the nine months, I had an extended, out-of-body journey literally to hell and most of the way back, and I would not wish the trip on anyone, even with the frequent-flyer miles. Without the pituitary I have few natural hormones in the body. I lost most of my body hair and one day while looking in the mirror I asked TerriLu, “Are my breasts enlarging?” Sure enough, blood tests showed that the only hormone I had in my system was the lactating hormone that produces breast milk.

Hormones pretty much rule the body. Without a brain, you die in seconds, although amazingly I have survived quite well without one for several decades. Without a heart, you die in under a minute. Without lungs, you die within minutes. Without hormones, you don’t die – you just feel like you’re dead or wish you were dead, or both.

I now take artificial hormones every day. I take a thyroid tablet, a corticosteroid tablet, testosterone gel, and a Human Growth Hormone injection (fun), and I just do without the other three or four key hormones that cannot be replaced. I think that with my use of the steroids and the Human Growth Hormone, I have a good chance to make it in Major League Baseball (I did play little league for four years). I also take about eight additional hormone-related, back-related, and other related medications.

Apparently my body is falling apart faster than normal due to the lack of hormones. That is, I’ve aged beyond my actual years. When I was about forty-five, Dr. East suggested that my body was closer to that of a sixty-five-year old. My eye doctor said at the same time that I had the eyes of a sixty-five-year old. At the dentist in four years I had to have eight molars extracted and replaced with implants and then crowns to top them off – and I even stopped drinking soda pop and sucking on Lifesavers, to no avail! The lack of hormones and some of the medications contribute to dry mouth which is not good for the teeth.

With sleep apnea and for other medical reasons, I do not sleep well at night and I usually need at least one nap during the day. My energy level is low, to say the least, but my spirits and mood are good, especially considering the circumstances. Life is great with TerriLu, our children, and our grandchildren.

My own initiation into the heartbreak of no hormones was somewhat embarrassing. Because I was off the chart low on testosterone, the urologist prescribed a double dose every day. When I went to the pharmacy to fill my first testosterone gel prescription, the pharmacist asked me if double the normal  dose was a mistake and I assured him the doctor said “double” the dose. The pharmacist still wasn’t comfortable with that so he said he would call the doctor. The doctor sort of chewed out the pharmacist saying he was busy with patients and shouldn’t be questioned by a pharmacist on what he’s written as a prescription and what he has clearly explained to the patient. To the pharmacist’s credit, I think he was just looking out for me, thinking with a double dose I might start growing hair on my tongue or something.

When the cute, petite female pharmacy technician came over with my double-dose of Androgel, she asked if I had ever used testosterone gel before, and of course, I whispered I had not. So she yelled loud enough for the pharmacist who was at the other end of the pharmacy to hear as well as the entire store, “Counsel, please.” So a very nice woman pharmacist with a big booming voice came over to talk to me about the testosterone. With a voice that exceeded the PA system, she bellowed, “So you must be really low on testosterone!” I kind of lowered my head, looked around and whispered, “Yes.” She didn’t take the hint so her voice boomed again for everyone in the store, “So this is testosterone in a gel. Everyday you rub this testosterone gel on your upper arms, shoulders, and stomach. Now because you don’t have any testosterone in you, your doctor has prescribed a double dose of testosterone. So be sure to take this testosterone as prescribed. You’ll probably have to use this testosterone for the rest of your life because you apparently can’t produce any testosterone on your own. Now this testosterone won’t work immediately—it will take several days or more for this testosterone to work like real testosterone. Let me say testosterone really loud like five more times so everyone in the store and the parking lot knows you don’t have any testosterone, like no testosterone, like zippo testosterone, like you ain’t gonna ever have real testosterone! You got that loud and clear? No TESTOSTERONE!”

By now I slouched so low I was nearly below the counter. I quietly thanked the pharmacist and as a turned around, the person right behind me was a lady from church. I wanted to evaporate into thin air. She smiled and politely asked how I was doing. I wanted to say that it pretty much got explained in full by the pharmacist, but instead said, “Fine, thank you.” And I walked away as quickly as I could.

So a week later I was at the mall with six days of testosterone in my system. I thought I’d drop in at Victoria’s Secret and get something to spice up our sex life that barely existed for twelve testosterone-less months. I found a skimpy little item and took it to the counter. The cashier held it up so everyone could see and said, “Oh, she’ll really like this, Honey.” I thanked her quickly and turned around and came face to face with the same nice lady from church again who smiled even bigger than at the pharmacy. This time when she asked how I was doing, I figured she wasn’t thinking the normal “How are you doing?” It was more like Joey on Friends asking with a heavy sexual overtone, “How you doing?” Well, at least that’s how she sounded to me. I decided then and there to never go to Victoria’s Secret without wearing a hat, a face mask, and dark sunglasses.

 And yes, after years of using testosterone gel I now have a hairier chest…and stomach…and upper arms…and shoulders. Now, I’m thinking of having all the hair lasered off – not “waxed” off—I’m too big of a wimp to endure that.

My Health and Disability

For the most part, this year has been uneventful health wise. I am stable but still very low energy and I have no natural hormones (panhypopituitarism). In the early part of the year, I had a steroid nerve-root injection in the low back for pain and also a radio-frequency denervation to deaden the pins-and-needles pain in my right foot and another one in November. Yikes, they were painful even with the Fentanyl and Versed for pain and relaxation.

In mid-June I went in for a colonoscopy, (if you are over fifty, you need a colonoscopy) which in and of itself isn’t bad because you sleep through the procedure and then wake up feeling relaxed and loopy and very happy for the rest of the day due to the wonderful effects of the Fentanyl and the Versed. Unfortunately, with all my medical procedures and surgeries, I have developed quite a tolerance for Fentanyl and Versed. Thus, I was awake for the entire colonoscopy which was not so fun.

The thirty-eight-hour prep time for the procedure leaves something to be desired. To prepare for the colonoscopy, you are put on a clear-liquid diet with soda pop, juice, popsicles, and Jell-o with no red die (my favorite flavor, of course – cherry). The Dulcolax tablets and the entire bottle (18 ounces) of Miralax combined with two liters of lemon Gatorade made approximately 1,200 gallons of liquid that I had to drink in two two-hour periods. The toilet, as Dave Barry put it, becomes the launch pad for the space shuttle and you are the space shuttle. For safety purposes it’s best to install a seatbelt on the commode.

The result of the colonoscopy prep is that everything you’ve eaten in the past ten years must be squeezed from the walls of your intestines, as well as food from the future that you haven’t even ingested yet, plus the 1,200 gallons of Miralax-Gatorade liquid. After thirty-eight hours of a clear-liquid diet, you get pretty hungry and the Miralax with Gatorade tastes, as Dave Barry said it best “and here I am being kind – like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.” Not that I have a clue what goat spit and urinal cleanser taste like. At least the procedure is only once every five years.

I made just one visit to the local Emergency Room this year. One day I was passing quite a bit of blood and that evening TerriLu and I spent the evening in the ER getting checked out (or inside, to be more precise). The ER doctor took care of the stomach pain and suggested a follow-up visit with Dr. Kantarian, my colorectal surgeon, the following week.

At the ER they did some blood work and found that I had a very high red-blood-cell count, in spite of the blood loss. That is, I have extra thick blood and, in fact, too much blood. I could either start smoking to counteract the red-blood-cell count or I could go back to see my oncologist/hematologist (I haven’t gone for three years) and have my CDC and other blood work done again.

Dr. Bridges, the new oncologist/hematologist, found, for starters, that I needed a lobotomy – no, check that – I needed a “phlebotomy” but I could probably use a lobotomy as well. With the phlebotomy, they just siphoned off a pint of blood, or about a tenth of the overall blood in the body. In addition to “thinning” my blood, it was supposed to reduce my blood pressure, but it did not, for some strange reason. They are running some more tests regarding a potential bone-marrow problem with results coming in a couple of weeks. Oh, what fun it is to ride on a medical open sleigh….