Category: General

The mission assignment has been made and unless something out of the ordinary happens, the call letter will arrive on Wednesday.  We should have even more to be thankful for on Thanksgiving this year.

Everyone told me that after shoulder surgery, physical therapy really sucks.  They were neither kidding nor exaggerating.

It's really bad.

The glenoid labrum, the part of my shoulder that they repaired, is usually pretty flexible and moves a bit when the shoulder moves.  But when the labrum has ben re-attached, it doesn't flex very well.  It becomes stiff and often has a bit of scar tissue in it as well.

The shoulder doesn't have a whole lot of room in it, so unless everything is working together just perfectly, the shoulder doesn't move very well.  That's what causes the diminished range of motion that I am experiencing right now.

So here's a typical physical therapy session right now:

We start out with ultrasound therapy.  Lotion/gel is applied to my shoulder and the PT assistant uses the ultrasound wand to shoot high frequency (above the range of human hearing for sure) sound waves into my shoulder.  This helps reduce any swelling present, helps promote healing through improved blood flow, and it gently massages soft tissues deep inside my shoulder while it softens scar tissue.

Next is e-stym, or electrical stimulation therapy.  The PT assistant puts electrodes on my shoulder and adds a heat pad to my shoulder.  Then I sit while my shoulder is stimulated by electricity.  This helps "exercise" the muscles that aren't being used a lot right now because my shoulder doesn't work right.

Then it's time for me to do my stretches/exercises.  So far, I've learned three stretches using a pulley attached to the ceiling and a rope with two handles.  Then I do four more stretches using a cane to help stretch and extend my shoulder.

These.

Are.

Painful.

But once I'm done with my own painful stretches, the physical therapist goes to work.  I lay on my back and he pushes my shoulder past the point of pain, helping slowly increase the range of motion.  This is the most painful part of physical therapy.  It sucks.  Big time.

After only two sessions, I already am enjoying an increased range of motion.  I have a long way to go.  A LONG way.  Before too long, they'll also teach me more exercises that will be used to strengthen the atrophied muscles in my shoulder.

I'll probably have close to 20 therapy sessions before the end of the year, and up to 20 more next year to get my shoulder back to normal again.

I can't wait until they're over, because there's no nice way of putting it.  It's painful, time consuming, and absolutely no fun at all.

Yesterday, my son's mission call status was updated to "Ready For Assignment."

Once a week, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles reviews new missionary applications and makes missionary assignments.  This usually happens on Fridays, but it can happen on other days of the week as well.

I often wondered about how this process actually happens.  It seems that it could easily be handled purely by computer--Mission X needs Y missionaries.  Missionary Z is available to serve and qualifies based on information provided in the online application.  All of this is easily programmable.

However, this isn't how it happens.

President Henry B. Eyring, an Apostle and member of the First Presidency helps shed some light on the subject of how mission assignments are made:

“I have had [many] experiences feeling of the Holy Ghost…But I’ve never felt what I have felt as I have…participated in the assigning of missionaries…Because of technology, it is possible for us to have your picture and the information about you displayed. And then quickly, on that same screen, all the missions of the Church with all of their needs are displayed. Within minutes, and sometimes less than a minute, the impression comes so powerfully that it would be, if it were a single instance, something that you would never forget. Can you imagine sitting there for hours at a time, having that happen time after time without interruption? I testify to you that it is real…[The Lord] somehow not only knows you but loves you enough to ensure that your call is where He needs you to go to teach the children of our Heavenly Father.”

Pretty amazing.  Elder Ronald A. Rasband of the First Quorum of the Seventy gave an address in General Conference in April, 2010 entitled "The Divine Call of a Missionary" in which he shared his experience of being part of that weekly meeting in which mission assignments are made.  It is a great insight into how missionaries are called of God.

So the fact that my son's mission call status is now "Ready for Assignment" means that the next time this meeting is held, it is possible that my son's face will appear on the screen and a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles will greet him with "Hello, Elder Smith!"  He could be assigned to a field of labor within a week, and, if everything goes normally, the mission call letter will arrive at our home on the day before Thanksgiving.

But what else does "Ready for Assignment" mean?

For my son, I believe that he really is ready for assignment.  He has been preparing to serve the Lord as a missionary for quite some time now.  He graduated from seminary.  He is taking a missionary preparation course in his Young Single Adult ward.  He has a testimony of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ.   I believe that he will be a good missionary.  He is the kind of young man that President Ezra Taft Benson spoke of when he said

Give me a young man who has kept himself morally clean and has faithfully attended his church meetings.  Give me a young man who has magnified his priesthood and has earned the Duty to God award and is an Eagle Scout.  Give me a young man who is a Seminary graduate and has a burning testimony of the Book of Mormon.  Give me such a young man and I will give you a young man who can perform miracles for the Lord in the mission field and throughout his life.

Yes, my son truly is "Ready for Assignment."

His mother and I, however, are not ready, despite the fact that this is something that we have been praying for for a long time.  We're not ready for him to move on to the next part of his life, even though we know how much growth he will experience as he puts his life into the service of the Lord for two years.  We aren't ready, but we're not sure if we ever would be ready, because we know that once he leaves, our family will be changed forever.

Yet we understand that it's time to let him go.  There's also a lot of excitement as we speculate about where he might be assigned.  Hopefully, it'll only be about ten more days until that question is answered, as well as the question of when he will start his missionary service.  After that comes the flurry of preparation activities--buying suits and white shirts and ties and luggage, attending the temple as often as possible, and doing what it takes to put one's non-missionary life on hold for two years.

He's "Ready for Assignment" and we're going to be on pins and needles until the assignment arrives.

Now the waiting begins.

My son has finished the process of submitting mission "papers" and now we wait to find out where he will be serving his mission for the next two years.  We will find out when he will be starting his full-time missionary service.  We will find out if he will be learning a language.

I was waiting for a mission call during the summer of 1988, and honestly, I'm feeling those same feelings again that I had as I waited for my own mission call.  It's amazing similar these feelings are.

So... any guesses?  Where do you think he will be called to serve?

Today, I finally received the Explanation of Benefits from my insurance company for the bill that they received from the Surgical Center.

Holy for the love of freaking buckets and stuff!!!

Billed amount:  $13,663.76

Network Discount: $3,921.50

So this basically means that the surgical center got paid $9,742.26 for my shoulder surgery.  I think I'm going to ask for an itemized bill, because I'm really curious now what I got for the $10k.

If I didn't have insurance, so far, this shoulder injury would have cost me nearly $20,000.   This shoulder injury has cost the LDS Church nearly $4000, because I have now hit my out-of-pocket maximum of $4000 for the year and we didn't have many medical expenses before this.  Fortunately, it won't cost any more THIS year, because I have hit the out of pocket maximum, so physical therapy will be "free" for me.  My primary insurance will pay out at 100%.

Hopefully, most of the PT will be before the end of the year because after 1 January, Church Activity Medical Assistance will have to pay for the first $3000 of the physical therapy since we're going to be doing the high deductible insurance plan again next year.

In other news, I quit wearing my sling this week.  It's now been more than six weeks since the surgery.  My shoulder aches a lot more because it doesn't have the support and because I'm doing stretches to help increase range of motion.

I'm sleeping better.  As a matter of fact, this morning, after waking up just before 6am, I went right back to sleep and slept well enough to DREAM.  It's the first dream I remember since surgery.

And today, I felt ALMOST rested!

Today, in the first session of the LDS Church's Semiannual General Conference, President Thomas S. Monson announced that young men can be recommended for Missionary Service at the age of 18.

I don't remember much else from the Saturday Morning session, because everything in my older son's life suddenly changed.

He was going to be eligible to start the application process in early December, but now, he can start the process right away.  Next week, we have an appointment with our bishop to get the process started.

He was planning on attending Utah Valley University for another semester--he's there fulltime this semester--and then he would leave on his mission sometime after the end of Spring semester.  Instead, he will finish this semester, then focus on mission preparation.  He will likely tell the missionary department of the LDS Church that he can leave anytime after 1 January, 2013.

For my son, this isn't a big shift.  He will likely leave only a few months earlier than he otherwise would have left.  Yet for my family, this is a big shift.  It's something that every parent simultaneously anticipates and dreads--when their child leaves home.  The anticipation and excitement is because this is a pretty magical time of life for a person.  It's a time full of decisions and changes.  It's a time that sets a person's direction in life.  It's exciting to me that my son wishes to serve a mission for the LDS Church, because my mission was a time of intense growth for me in so many ways.

Yet the dread comes because once he leaves, the dynamic of our family will change, and likely change forever.  We're going to miss having him here.  We're going to miss his humor and his laughter and the personality that adds so much to the dynamic of this little family of four that will soon be a family of three.

This also accelerates the same process for younger son, who will be eligible to serve as soon as he graduates High School.

And then the nest will be empty.

It can't be happening yet, can it?  Yet, today's small, yet historic change in the LDS Church's missionary program has seemed to make all of these changes almost immediate.  It has taken the "looming" event and made it seem more like it is happening right now.

I'm sad and excited.  I'm nervous and proud.  I'm feeling so many, many emotions all at once.

And yet, under all of this is the underlying feeling of peace that tells me that it's right.  That's what's going to get us through these changes that we've been excitedly dreading for more than 18 years now.  It's just right.

Last week, I was able to spend a few days at Flaming Gorge with both of my sons.  It was the only "high adventure" camp that I was able to attend with both of my sons.  We had a really good time.  We floated a bit of the Green River on rubber rafts.  We toured the Flaming Gorge dam.  I was able to cook some amazingly awesome dutch oven food for the group.  It was generally a really good time.

It was also a learning experience for me.  I don't really like what I learned.

Since I had volunteered to help with the food for this campout, I accompanied my son's (only one son is a scout now--the other is an adult) leaders to the grocery store to pick up some food.  The Varsity Coach (whom I shall refer to as B.B.) said that the had a confession--that he had not completed the required BSA medical form.  The Venturing Advisor (whom I shall refer to as C.B.) said that he hadn't done it either.  There was no reason given, but it was made pretty clear by their comments that they didn't feel as if it were important enough.  C.B. said that he might be leaving early, and that he wouldn't be on the activity for 72 hours.  I reminded him of BSA policy that it doesn't matter how long any individual attendee would be at the activity.  If the activity itself is longer than 72 hours, then all participants, youth and adult, would be required to have a completed BSA medical form.

This "do as I say, not as I do" attitude displayed to me by my son's current and future scout leaders upset me a little bit.  It made me feel as if, for them, convenience trumped obedience to BSA guidelines designed for the safety and protection of both youth and adults participating in a high adventure camp.

The evening that we arrived at camp, the leaders mentioned some of the activities that we would be doing at this camp.  One of the activities mentioned was cliff jumping.  I mentioned that I didn't believe that cliff jumping was an approved BSA activity.  My comment was completely ignored.  After we returned home, I read the following in the Guide to Safe Scouting:

Diving and Elevated Entry: Diving is permitted only into clear, unobstructed water from heights no greater than 40 inches. Water depth must be at least 7 feet. Bottom depth contours below diving boards and elevated surfaces require greater water depths and must conform to state regulations. Persons should not jump into water from heights greater than they are tall, and should jump only into water chest deep or greater with minimal risk from contact with the bottom. No elevated entry is permitted where the person must clear any obstacle, including land.

Scouts were jumping into the water from heights much greater than they are tall.  One leader jumped from a cliff estimated to be about 90 feet above the water.  This is obviously contrary to the guide to safe scouting.  This point is also emphasized in the safe swim training that B.B. said he completed just before we left on this trip.

I don't expect that leaders to completely know every regulation and guideline in the Guide to Safe Scouting.  However, I doubt that either B.B. or C.B. has read the Guide to Safe Scouting or they would have questioned the wisdom of cliff jumping.  Additionally, the scouting unit is required to file a Tour Plan with the district BSA office before a campout like the one at Flaming Gorge.  The Tour Plan application says the following:

We certify that appropriate planning has been conducted using the Sweet 16 of BSA Safety, qualified and trained supervision is in place, permissions are secured, health records have been reviewed, and adult leaders have read and are in possession of a current copy of  Guide to Safe Scouting and other appropriate resources.

If these leaders had read the Guide to Safe Scouting and if they had a copy of the Guide to Safe Scouting in their possession (which I am 100% sure they did not), we could have consulted the guide about the wisdom of cliff jumping during this activity.  In this case, even with someone (me) questioning the appropriateness of this activity, fun seemed to me to trump safety.

As we floated the Green River, the leaders emphasized the importance of wearing life jackets (thank heavens) during the entire float trip.  However, at one point on this float trip, I was sitting on the back of my raft next to another gentleman.  C.B. and one of the other adult leaders (J.L.) came up with the idea that it would be funny to have one of the youth jump from their raft, grab the back of the life jackets of the two of us on the back of the raft, and pull us into the river.  This is obviously not something anyone would consider safe--think of a horse collar tackle in Football.  It's a penalty because of a safety issue of being dragged down from behind.  C.B. offered the young man $20 if he would do it, and both C.B. and J.L. continued to egg him on until he did so.  It tweaked my left shoulder (which has been hurting for a couple of weeks now) pretty badly, and now when I move it, there's a sickening clicking inside my shoulder that I hope won't require surgery.  But the leaders again showed me that fun (or funny) trumps safety.

Incidentally, J.L. apologized profusely when he heard that this had tweaked my shoulder.  The young man apologized profusely.  The young man's father apologized.  C.B., who had egged the young man on--even offering him $20--never said a word.  I know it's petty of me to expect something, and I'm still pretty ticked off at C.B.  I'm working on learning to forgive right now.  I'm not learning that lesson very quickly.

So what did I learn from this?  I can't trust my son to go on activities with his scout leaders.  Even when I go along, I can't let my sons out of my sight.  My older son jumped from a 12-ish foot cliff since I wasn't there at the moment to yet again question the wisdom of cliff jumping.  I learned that convenience trumps obedience; that fun trumps safety.  I learned that these leaders have a "do as I say, not as I do" attitude about rules or guidelines that seem inconvenient.

Fortunately, my younger son now has enough camping nights to earn his camping merit badge, because I can't send him camping with these leaders ever again, and I certainly don't want to go along on campouts with these leaders any more.

In the end, there really is no excuse.  The rules that were broken, regardless of importance, are spelled out in black and white.  There is nothing ambiguous about these rules.  This is why the scouting leaders in my unit have lost my trust and will no longer have my support (or my son) on outdoor activities.

They have lost my trust and I don't know how or if they can gain it back again.

This morning, as I drove in to work, I heard another radio advertisement for a local spa/hot tub company.  They recently had a huge "Memorial Day Sell" and talked about how much money one might save "...after mell-in rebate."

I don't think lazy/mispronounced vowels bothered me as much before I learned to speak Dutch.  After all, a small change in the way a vowel is pronounced is all it takes to change paying one's rent into paying one's prostitute.  That's especially troublesome when it's an LDS missionary that is speaking.

It's just lazy speech that causes people to go to the mellbox to get their mell, drink a glass of melk, and lay down for the night on their pellow.  There are two types of people in the world: mell and femell.  And when picking up a hammer, don't forget the nells.

Small pet peeve, I know, but I would have thought that someone that gets PAID to do a radio commercial would be able to properly pronounce the words "sale" and "mail"

It certainly doesn't make me want to buy a spa from this company, even if it is on sell.

During the planning phases of a trip, I was in the process of reserving a rental car.  We recently had some repairs done to our Subaru Outback, and the only company in town that had an economy car available was Hertz.

At the end of that rental, we had a "scratch-off" card that was supposed to give us a great discount on a future rental.  I scratched off the card and it said that with the included promotional code, we could save up to $25 on a week-long or weekend car rental.  Perfect!  I was planning on a weekend rental for the upcoming trip.

I went to the Hertz web site to reserve the vehicle.  Before adding in the coupon code, the entire rental was just under $90.  After adding in the coupon code, the entire rental was just under $250.  WHAT??

Strangely enough, I figured that saving $25 would cause the price to decrease by $25, but no.  Not using Hertz math.  You see, the $25 savings only applied to a daily rate that was more than double the daily rate of the price I was originally given online.

So we're going with a different company.  Hertz' math hurts my brain too much.

On Sunday night, I flew to San Francisco to attend a technical conference.  I arrived rather late and rode BART into the downtown area.  From there, I had a 10-ish minute walk to my hotel.

Maybe I just haven't been in the right (or wrong?) parts of Salt Lake late at night, but it's pretty clear that Salt Lake City and San Francisco are not even in the same league when it comes to being a big city.  Utah doesn't really have a big city.  Salt Lake is large-ish, but it's nothing like San Francisco.

As I walked to the hotel (first walking a block in the wrong direction), I noticed that pretty much every business that was closed for the night had someone (or two or three someones) sleeping in the doorway.  Most of them had a few belongings--a sleeping bag and a small bag of stuff--with them.  I've never even been close to living on the street.  I can't imagine what that would be like.  Now, as the weather gets warmer, it would be more bearable.  How do they survive during the winter?

There are a lot of panhandlers around too.  I saw a couple of veterans with missing limbs, sitting in wheelchairs or on standing with crutches.  At the BART station, when the AirBART bus pulled in, there were several people either asking for money or offering to help people purchase tickets for BART, afterwards asking for a buck or two for their trouble.

One of the guys traveling with us said he got in about the same time that the prostitutes were out in significant numbers.  After checking into the hotel, he heard a couple of them arguing at the top of their lungs. (Downtown isn't always the best place to stay.)

Some of these street people we're quite a bit more humorous than others.  For example, on the way back to our hotel from Pier 39, we walked by a park where a man was adamantly (and loudly) proclaiming "This is MY bench!!  I live here!!!" to someone who stopped to sit and watch his dog in the park.  He then proceeded to meow loudly at the dog, just to annoy the owner who tried to sit in his "home." A block or two later, a panhandler was holding a sign that said "Why lie?  I want beer."

The thing that haunts me, though, is the lady that I passed on the way back to the convention after lunch.  She was sitting on a street corner with the familiar cardboard sign, asking for any help of any kind.  She looked completely defeated as she sat there on the street corner by an orange construction barrier, sobbing.

What haunts me is that I really have no way of knowing the "why" behind her tears.  Is she really destitute and devastated?  Probably.  I doubt that sitting on a street corner begging is someone's first choice of making a living.  But were those tears real or were they manufactured by someone that knows that she "earns" more money if she looks more forlorn?  I'll never know.

But whether the tears were real or not, that face and the anguish I saw, real or not, will probably stick in my mind for some time.