Never underestimate the value of friends

On Jenni's first day in the hospital, her dear friend Alma Mitchell showed up and took charge. "You have to keep after the nurses," she said. "Otherwise, they tend to ignore the patient."

We had very good nursing care, but Alma made sure it was excellent. She and I learned how to operate the IV pump, mainly to keep it quiet. If Jenni laid on a tube, it sounded the alarm. If the fluid got low, or if the injection site wasn't just right, or sometimes for no reason at all, it raised its annoying voice loud enough for nurses outside the room to hear. They didn't respond immediately because pumps and monitors in other rooms were constantly wailing too. Alma and I learned to push a certain button to silence the beast.

Alma came and spent hours at Jenni's bedside making sure she was comfortable, giving her something to drink, reading to her, chatting, laughing, and allowing her to sleep without interruption. I was able to work while Alma was there. How do you thank a friend like that?

I spent my mornings and evenings with Jenni, following Alma's lead, giving her the extra attention the nurses couldn't give. About 9 p.m. on her second day in the hospital, my friends Don McGee and Chad Lyman showed up. Jenni was sleeping so I chatted with them outside the room. Don scolded me for not telling them about our crisis. He has a way of taking you to task and leaving you feeling loved rather than chastened. He and Chad wanted to know everything, so I rehearsed the tale for them, and they gave me their encouragement.

We have a lot of good friends, and their good wishes gave us strength. We know a lot of people were praying for Jenni. I learned something, though. It can get to be too much. I rehearsed Jenni's story over and over again during the first couple of days. In addition to the time it took away from being with her, the story-telling took an emotional toll. I was reliving the initial shock of her diagnosis each time I recounted what had happened. In order to avoid that, I designated one neighbor, Greg Ferguson, as the story teller. I updated him occasionally on what was happening and he told everyone else. What a relief! Some of our friends sent cards expressing their love and support. Those expressions were treasured.

How dreadful it would be to walk through the Valley of Death alone. With friends, it becomes possible to notice that there are tulips in the valley.