A Tale of Two Men

This is a tale of two men named Ed. Both were slim, attractive, and white-haired.

The one Ed was a world-famous, wealthy Hollywood agent, who controlled the lives of many famous movie stars. He cared personally for each of his clients; he inspired loyalty as he worked for them personally through good times and bad; he made their careers soar. He taught many young Hollywood professionals to be good agents, and left a heritage of excellence as well as integrity behind as well as wealth and fame.

The other Ed is an average person of no particular renown. A retired military officer who served two tours in Vietnam, he was a military aviator. He has been married for 47 years, and is a father of five children. After he retired from the military, he was a school technology specialist, teaching teachers how to use technology. He is a loving father, a witty man, a caring friend, a charming person who truly enjoyed others. He has kindly led and taught many people over the years.

In January 2010, both men were doing respiratory therapy together at Cedar-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. During the months they worked together they shared a little of their lives and histories. They were approximately the same age, with advanced lung disease, emphysema.

Recently one Ed--the famous one’s--obituary was in the Los Angeles Times; the same day the ordinary Ed was on a day-and-a half deep-sea fishing trip off the coast of San Diego, California.

No one knows why one person dies and the other lives; that is in God’s hands. For a while last year, the ordinary Ed was so sick with pneumonia and his lung function so restricted that many truly thought his destiny would be limited and his life short-lived. He was on oxygen all the time, but his face was gray, his lips were tinged blue, and he couldn’t say a complete sentence without taking multiple breaths.

The doctors’ options seemed non-existent, and the second time Ed got pneumonia after flying in a commercial plane, he insisted he would never fly in an airplane again—not even to visit family. Going to the store became a major undertaking. When his two granddaughters came over to visit, they began to run into the bedroom and lay on the bed with him and watch “Cash Cab” or “How it is Made” on TV to be with him. The doctors still had no solutions except to keep trying the pulmonary therapy. In three months of therapy, Ed was where they had tried to start him when he began. He had lost 30 pounds.

One small thing changed the situation—a priesthood blessing given Ed by his oldest son, Marlowe in April 2009. In the blessing, Ed was told he had “many more things to do in this life.” He was told that he was to actively seek out treatments that would improve his health. He was told he must “persevere, and keep after the doctors to find a solution to his medical problems.” He was reminded it wouldn’t be easy, but that he must keep looking for treatments that would allow him to recover his health and do the things that he had still had left to do in his life.

The “solution” that changed Ed’s life was a lung transplant, which wasn’t easy or immediate. It couldn’t be done in Utah because of his age—the nearby University of Utah Medical Center did not do transplants on patients over 65 years, and Ed was 68 years-old. However, Ed’s pulmonary specialist did his training at Cedar-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles, and recommended Ed to Cedar-Sinai where they evaluated him for a lung transplant (they transplant lung patients until the age of 70 years).

Ed finally passed all the hurdles, rented an apartment in Los Angeles, and moved to California to be eligible to get a transplant. Finally at the end of April, Ed received the lung of a 20-year-old and began his long journey to recovery. It has had its difficulties, including two bronchoscopies, and one time when they had to drain his lung, but in July, he was able to go deep-sea fishing and wrestle the 30 pound albacore tuna into the ship. It was something that he could not have dreamed of doing a year earlier.

What are some of the “many more things” Ed has to do in this life? Who knows? Maybe they are no more than enjoying his children and grandchildren and making memories with them. Maybe it is visiting them wherever they live, watching their activities, and sharing their dreams. However, what a valuable use of the years he now has left to him? Maybe his legacy and obituary won’t be as memorable as that of the famous Ed, but to his family, they are far more precious, more valuable, and of far greater worth than the items listed in famous Ed’s obituary.

Ordinary Ed's monetary wealth will never compare to famous Ed's monetary wealth. But to ordinary Ed's family, his worth in memories is priceless. The one Ed’s memorial will be telecast around the world; The ordinary Ed's memorial will live only in the hearts and in the lives of his friends and family.

"Every individual matters. Every individual has a role to play.

Every individual makes a difference."

Jane Goodall

The Patience of a Saint?

The dictionary defines patience as:

1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.
2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.
3. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

Everyone praises patience as a great and admirable quality, but few possess it. In fact it has been said to be the quality of a saint. One of the most difficult aspects of our time here in Los Angeles awaiting Ed’s lung transplant has been our lack of patience. We expected the wait for a new lung to be two weeks to a month and we have been here over three months.

Therefore after the priesthood session of general conference a few weeks ago, I laughed when Ed called me and said, “President Uchdorf spoke directly to me in his address on patience!(see talk at http://www.lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-1207-20,00.html ) Everything he said I needed to hear.” However, when I read President Uchdorf’s talk about patience, it really hit home and I began to think about our stay here in Los Angeles and what we have gained from our wait.

When we arrived here the 4th of January, Ed had gained some of the weight he’d lost last fall but he was still 20 pounds underweight; the doctors told him he must gain weight. They said that people who undergo lung transplant surgery who are underweight have far more complications than anyone, even those who are overweight. He was given dietary guidelines and diaries to chart his food intake.

Ed started on a respiratory therapy program at the hospital gym three times a week and a yoga therapy two days a week. He had been doing respiratory therapy at the University of Utah in Utah, but this was a better program with other respiratory patients that he grew to know and to relate to. Some patients had had lung transplants, some had had lung reduction surgery, some like Ed were waiting for surgery, and some were not planning on surgery. So Ed had the chance to find out what to look forward to when he had surgery, and the other alternatives. They also discussed places to eat in Los Angeles and things to do, which Ed shared with me.

At the conclusion of the program, Ed and I were invited to join a respiratory patient support group of those with respiratory problems, including past transplant patients, and other respiratory surgical patients.

His improvement during this three-month waiting period was also evaluated: Ed has gained 17 pounds since we arrived here and his respiratory improvement has been 30%. He can now walk 45 minutes on the treadmill at 1.4 miles per hour. Physically, Ed is far more ready for surgery NOW, than he was when we arrived in January (when he wanted surgery IMMEDIATELY). He will recovery from surgery better now, than he would have in January. Meanwhile, he is enjoying life more now. He still needs the surgery, but he is compensating better without it at least temporarily.

We have made many friends here in the ward and the area—even the friends he has made at therapy are unique and have enriched his life. We have learned a lot about Los Angeles, its history and culture, and its wonderful food by eating at a different ethnic restaurant each week (strictly to help him gain weight, you know—for no other reason!).

Helen Keller said it better than I could, “Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.”

Bring on the surgery—we are ready NOW!