Ho, Ho, Ho!

I always knew my good intentions to mail out Christmas cards would come in handy some day. We're using all the stamps from Good Intentions of Christmas Past to send out Malkolm's stories, plus we bought 300 more stamps today. Looking at all these older Christmas stamps, wondering why I never got around to sending out Christmas letters and cards except for maybe once every five years or so.

We're down to the last stack of addresses, and we may have them out tomorrow if all goes well.

I remember when I started this stay-at-home mom thing. I thought, "Oh, the time I would have!" I just knew not spending 60 hours in an office somewhere would lead to my having way more time to do stuff with the kids and Sia, to send out Christmas Cards every year, to really keep the house clean, often have some baked goods baking in the oven ... and we must not forget always to make healthy dinners for my family. Well now. I think I'm in the middle of some kind of cruel joke. There's never a clean house (unless Sia does it, or someone else, like my niece, who cleaned the house just after we left for the surgery -- when we returned home from the hospital, I nearly fainted), we have peanut butter and jelly for dinner more often than not, and there are only baked goods in the oven because I occasionally move them there to clean off the counters.

I knew Malkolm helped out a lot around the house, but with him supine on the couch, it's even more apparent to me -- before his surgery, he would come home from school, help me with the Ebay packages, do his homework, empty and load the dishwasher, put out his clothes for the next school day, pick up the living room, help fold clothes and hold and play with Maina as I finished whatever I needed to do to get the packages to the post office and get dinner started. He's been helping fold clothes since he was 3-years-old (I think it is fair to say it is his least favorite chore, and he does not miss helping out with the laundry right now).

This young man has also been waking up to his alarm clock since he was in kindergarten. Setting his alarm the night before, getting himself up every morning without assistance, getting dressed, making and eating breakfast himself, taking his heart medicine, getting his school books and backpack ready for school and then waking me up to get him off to the bus stop.

I remember when my husband bought the alarm clock for Malkolm when Malkolm was getting ready to start kindergarten; I scoffed. He won't even use it, I told my husband, he's too young. I remember my own days of sleeping through the alarm day after day, my mother threatening to spray water on me to get me out of bed for school ... and then, here's this little kid, who has turned out to be more responsible about waking himself up than many adults I know, including myself. I must admit I was totally wrong about the alarm clock.

I guess this is all helping me to have a bit more self-discipline and also encouraging Malia to step up and take on more responsibility, which she seems to be taking in stride. I actually enjoy cleaning side-by-side with her, she has a very bright and encouraging spirit about her when we are cleaning together.

All in all, things are moving forward. Just looking at this pic from the night before the surgery, when we were messing around in the hotel room just taking random photos ... Malkolm has come miles since then, and the long and short of it is that I have too. I think that God really works on us through our kids, and my eyes are opened and my faith is stronger, and although I'm tired, I am growing and learning and enjoying every minute... even the tired and grumpy ones.

And maybe this year we will mail out Christmas letters ... oh um, well maybe not, we don't have any Christmas stamps left, after all. ;)

-Jennifer

My Greek Hero

Now we're home -- and dealing with a few new challenges. Our first responsibility is to keep the incision sites clean: the sternum cut that seems far too long, and the 3-inch incision over his left pec housing the defibrillator, and then the two holes where the tubes came out. Watch for fever, strange coloring or unexplained sweats or breathing patterns. So far so good.

Malkolm is slowly becoming more himself -- yesterday was a rough day; he was irritable and angry -- almost depressed it seemed. Totally picking fights with his little sis, and in general not handling things well. Of course, he had heart surgery less than a week ago, so some of the whole fish out of water thing should be expected, but there was just something not quite right about his mental state even in spite of the surgery.

Today, he was more himself than he has been since we left the ICU. I am seeing flashes of his normal sense of humor and I feel like the mood swings will go away completely once he's been off the heavier pain medication for a while. The ibuprofen seems to be managing the pain well, so we're sticking with that for now.

I realized yesterday that I never really thought about the psychological aspects associated with the surgery, and wasn't really prepared for the extra stuff outside of just taking care of my little man. He was just so courageous when it came to this whole thing, it's easy to forget that he's only 9. I know I keep saying that, (as much as I say it, should be enough reminder for me) but I guess if you knew him you would know exactly what I'm talking about.

So, now I'm kind of looking into this; talking to people who have had major surgery and asking those who have had children who went through something similar. I'm finding this reaction is not all that uncommon, and we will just ride the waves until things settle a bit.

The cool thing about having a child like Malkolm is that we can talk to him about this and he really understands it. He gets it. We had a long talk with him last night at dinner, and we all decided it would be best not to use the Tylenol 3 (Tylenol with codeine) anymore, and we can see today that it was the right decision. I do think it has made a huge difference in his mood, and he is not in any more pain than he was while taking it.

When his children's pastor was talking to him on the phone, and he asked Malkolm if he had run a mile yet -- Malkolm told him, "yeah, I just got back" without missing a beat. I have to admit I kind of breathed a sigh of relief at that point. And today, when he was reading the second book in the Percy Jackson series, he was going on about the parallels with "real" Greek mythology and the names of the characters and their attributes. I mean on and on. To the point where I had to tell him to go back to reading. This is the Malkolm I am used to, the ever-analytical, kind and giving boy I know to be my son.

He received a cool gift basket yesterday from our church, it was like junk food heaven. And today, another gift basket from a classmate -- who walked two blocks just to bring it by (it was heavy too, I was totally impressed!). Malkolm shared everything with Malia without hesitation.

People have called and are extending support in ways I never thought about. In a way, it's almost like having a new baby. We dusted off the baby moniter and put it in his room so he can call for help when he has to go to the bathroom at night if he can't get out of the bed by himself. So far he's doing really well, though, and it seems he is a stubborn goat and wants to do everything himself. I told him that he has to let me help him sometimes, just for my peace of mind. And the docs said it's good for him to do as much as possible, as much as he can handle. I'm thinking we might go for a walk tomorrow.

I am struggling a little to get him to drink plenty of water. This is a big deal and can have a huge impact on his recovery. He understands that if his body retains fluid, the fluid from the surgery (that was draining out of those tubes for a while) will also be retained, and this would not be good. If his body gets dehydrated and starts holding on to fluids we could have some real problems -- that is something I need to be more on top of ... maybe I'll set the alarm on my phone for every hour and a half or so, so I can remember to make him drink more. One thing that always works as an incentive is just reminding him that if he does get dehydrated he might have to get and IV to get more fluid, and that pretty much stops any complaining in its tracks.

At one point, he was talking about three giants that came into Percy's gym class -- one named Marrow Sucker, one named Skull Eater and Joe Bob. Apparently (bear with me here), they were cannibal giants, and Malkolm was trying to figure out why Joe Bob was the name of the third. Asking me all kinds of questions about what I know about Greek Mythology (times like these I wish I'd paid more attention in Mrs. Rooth's class during the Greek Mythology unit my sophomore year in high school). Wondering why the author named the third giant Joe Bob. We agreed it may be a joke -- because the other two names are so intense, and then there's this unassuming country-esque name like Joe Bob. And then the fact that the name for the giants actually translated to mean "Canadians" -- humor not lost on him (but sorta lost on me).

Anyway.

Tomorrow we have to go get a chest x-ray at a local radiology clinic and then Thursday we are headed to Thomasville to go to a pediatric cardiologist for his one-week follow-up -- and we bring the x-rays with us. The cardiologist we usually see only comes to Valdosta every so often, and he is not in town this week, so we travel. Guess I should get used to this.

April 12, we go to Atlanta again for the defibrillator follow up. We will go no less than every 6 months.

I am a bit distressed that the insurance denied the claim for the genetic testing, which means $5,400 out-of-pocket cost for Malkolm's testing if we can't finagle some sort of deal with them. What a buggar.We'll find out more on the 12th, but the docs seemed to think that maybe the genetic testing people might be willing to work something out.

We finally remembered to turn in the paperwork for his school so we will start homebound sometime soon. This is where a teacher comes to our home 2-3 times a week (three hours a week total) and teaches Malkolm what he is missing in class. He is also not marked absent these days either. He will not be going to school till after April 24. Long time to be absent, but I'm not really worried about him keeping up. He's a pretty sharp kid.

Malkolm has already survived a couple of direct chest pushes from his little sister -- sometimes she forgets and starts messing with him -- and he has learned to give her warnings when she starts to get a little rowdy around him. She was devastated when she realized she had hurt him; guess this is a learning experience for all of us.

ok, well. He's still up. Had to wrestle the book away twice already. Seems my little Odysseus doesn't want to exit book world. Time to follow up and make sure he gets in the shower and then on to bed.

-Jennifer

Arriving home!

Hello, everyone! I just got back from the hospital! My mom set me up with the laptop on the couch, and I started to type.

Back at the hospital, my feet ached when I started to walk, because I had been lying in bed for so long. My dad taught me a trick to relieve the pain. He said to rotate my foot while "pointing" with my big toe. It totally worked! :D

There are a bunch of small bandage strips down my chest on the place where they cut into my chest, and a few on my upper-left chest, where they put the defibrillator in. There are two small holes below the strips in the middle of my chest, where two drainage tubes were. It really hurt when then they pulled them out, and the holes that were there looked pretty ugly.

I had all my IVs and band-aids removed before we left the hospital. One of the IVs had to be replaced when I was awake last night, and they had to do three attempts to put in the IV. It was very painful.

When we took my first shower before we left the hospital today, I was afraid the soap and water would sting on my chest where the strips were, but it ended up being pretty comfortable. I loved the warm water on my skin.

I would like to thank my cousins in Long Beach, California for selling plates of food to raise money for my surgery. They had the fundraiser yesterday. THANK YOU!!

I can't wait to get started on signing all those stories that sold while I was in surgery! Thank you for all those who have cared about me and bought stories, and thank you for all the nice compliments about my writing. It makes me feel wonderful!

I have a few aches every now and then, but I don't mind much. It was a big relief to get out of the hospital!

-Malkolm

One Step Closer to Going Home

I wager most parents think their child is amazing. I remember when Malkolm was born, his head was shaped like an ice cream cone, his skin was wrinkly and hairy and his face was all squished up ... and I thought he was the most beautiful baby in the world. I remember when they placed him on my stomach, I didn't care if he had 10 toes or no toes. I didn't care -- I loved him intensely and immediately.

I remember wondering when I was pregnant with him ... wondering what it would be like and how scary it might be to have a special needs child, and I knew the moment they placed him into my arms that it didn't matter. I didn't care. I loved that little naked child more than I ever thought possible, especially for someone I hadn't met before. When they told us he was perfect and healthy, that was just icing on the cake. It wasn't until three days later that we found out there might be something wrong with his heart, and about two months later when our journey with HCM would begin.

Thinking about how far we've come, and seeing the young man he's turned into and the man he is becoming -- I just can't imagine our lives any other way. Life is good.

I have some great news! Yesterday at 2 p.m. we were moved to the Step Down unit. This is the place where patients go when they no longer need the minute-to-minute care of ICU. And, even better news, not 20 minutes ago, they took the drainage tubes out!!

Malkolm was not happy about the pain associated with that -- he told me that I was banned from cuddling with him (one of the big things we were talking about was when he got the tubes out, I could climb in the bed and cuddle a bit). The doc that took the tubes out asked him why he was mad at me, because she was the one that pulled the tubes out. And he matter-of-factly said, "because she allowed it!" I could tell that it was really feigned anger, because it really did hurt, and of course, within about four minutes, still with a forced fakey scowl on his face, he said "I guess you can cuddle with me a little" ... heh. So I got a few minutes in before they came to take him to x-ray. I offered to go, but he wanted to go by himself. Ok, well, at least I got the courtesy cuddle I was waiting for.

His usual quick-witted sense of humor has been a bit dimmed by his medication and pain, and I think mostly by the frustration he's feeling by not being able to use his arms to pull himself up into a comfortable position.

But he does have moments where even with his irritation his sense of humor shines through. Like when he was so mad and frustrated in the ICU when he had to wait for five hours to get a drink -- and after being told numerous times he could not have anything yet, he huffed and puffed and threw as much of a 9-year-old tantrum as he possibly could with the tubes and such limiting his actions. I told him that he would be able to have any drink he wanted once they cleared him, and he looked at me and said, through his tears, "Well, then I'm going to have a CAFFEINATED BEVERAGE!" (knowing full-well we do not usually allow him to have caffeine and that he probably wouldn't be able to have a drink with caffeine in it.) Might be another one of those you-had-to-be-there jokes.

We've had some issues with his blood pressure and heart rate (too high), blood sugar (rising) and fever (little too high at times), but it seems these things are pretty normal for anyone going through a surgery like this and are seeming to regulate themselves now. Of course, none of these things are normal to us, but it is what it is -- dealing with it in baby steps.

I read to him briefly during the really tough times (thanks again Mette for these great books!! Soothes the savage beast!) and that really seemed to help calm him down and then he could sleep again. My mom read to him too, and I have to admit, her voices are way better than mine. I remember she used to read to us when we were little, one of my favorites was The Mouse and the Motorcycle (I read it to Malkolm several years ago). I always loved Ralph's adventures when mom read them.

Last night, Malkolm and I were talking. He was too wired to sleep and so we were just talking about anything and everything -- I offered to read to him, but the light was too dim and I was struggling over the simplest of words simply because I couldn't make out the letters. He thought that was hilarious, and he started giggling -- except, because of his pain, he couldn't really giggle, so it was more of a high pitched slow wail. Just hearing it, I started laughing and then we were both laughing (wail) and it was hurting him, but he couldn't stop (wail). Just when we'd get it under control, he'd say something silly like "fuzzy bunny" or some other random ridiculous statement (wail), and we'd both start laughing again (wail). The nurse actually thought there was something wrong and came in to check on us. I felt like I was at summer camp breaking curfew, but wow was it nice to laugh with him.

After we finished laughing, he started to fall asleep and I just sat with him until he drifted off into a relaxed and fitful sleep, which was literally just about two minutes. I just sat there for a while looking at him in the silence echoing in my mind with sounds of his laughter, the dim light framing his face with the shadows. His long eyelashes draping over his cheekbones. His dark brows over those eyes. Just marveling at this wondrous gift that God has given us and so relieved that it seems the worst is over. I think he is the most beautiful boy on the planet, inside and out.

Malkolm is actually sleeping right now, the whole taking out the chest tubes was a pretty intense experience. He's earned a few solid winks, I think. Like the old Irish proverb says: "A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book."

More to come later ...

-Jennifer

:)

Big Bed, Little Boy

Wow, what an eventful 24 hours. We are in the ICU with Malkolm. Only parents and grandparents are allowed to come in, and only two at a time. I am emotionally drained, physically drained, but in a way uplifted by so many who have been affected by Malkolm's story and his heart (not literal heart, but I guess that sort of applies too). We have had little celebrations, like being taken off the breathing machine at 3:45 this morning -- and just about 15 minutes ago, the feeding tube came out.

He is slowly sipping apple juice and it's staying down which helps a lot with his spirits.

Since the article came out in the Atlanta paper, Malkolm has turned into a bit of a celebrity here, even though he's mostly unaware of the scope of this. I'm not totally sure how much he understands about what he has started with this idea. Not just the funds coming in from his story, but moreso the message that his faith and his writing brings with it.

I do want to make sure everyone understands that when Malkolm had the idea to sell his story to help pay for his surgery, we did not expect or even imagine that it would be like this. We were prepared to pay for the surgery using whatever means possible, because this little man is our baby (and a pretty cool kid, I think I'd like to keep him around for a while!! ), but I have to admit, not having to worry about my missing work and just being able to focus on Malkolm is a big deal, and a huge blessing.

As a work-at-home mom, I work more hours than I care to admit, at odd hours, many times into the wee hours of the morning. I do this because being around my kids, being available to my kids is something that is very very important to me. I missed SO much of his first three years because of my work (not working from home). If I had a dollar for every time someone told me "Hey Jenn, you don't live to work, you work to live ..." well, I guess I wouldn't need to work then, eh? (But knowing me, I probably would anyway).

I also want to make it clear that even without these funds from Malkolm's auction, we would have had the surgery anyway -- I'm concerned that some people might think that if we didn't raise a certain amount of money that he wouldn't have had the surgery, and that's just not the case. Although we are on a never-ending payment plan for our medical bills (my youngest was born 30 days early, and we spent a week at the NICU in Macon), we make it work and like everyone else, we do the best we can with what we've got. And we are unbelievably blessed with three amazing children, a strong support system of family and friends and the many other intangibles that go along with these things, money or not.

You know, when you have kids -- when you have it in your spirit to bring these little people into the world, you don't ever think that you will spend time in an ICU following heart surgery. Heart surgery is something that happens to older people, not children, right? However, from the lovely notes of encouragement I have received, I have found that MANY children have heart surgery and I can totally relate to everything that their parents are going through or have went through and I have appreciated each heart-written story of how their children have fared.

When Malkolm had this idea to sell his story; this 9-year-old didn't really have an idea about cost or anything -- he just wanted to help. I'm so thankful for my friends on the Ebay powerseller board, without their encouragement, we probably would not have done this, and it definitely would have not gotten around like it did. My friends, most of whom I have never met in person, are part of a community of people who banded together in vociferous support for my son and his idea and I don't think I can ever fully repay their kindness.

I am still laughing about our first night with the Ebay listing, Malkolm and I watching the notifications pop up announcing each new sale, high-fiving each other till 1 o'clock in the morning while the rest of the house slept, with me sprinkling words of encouragement in there (Malkolm, don't worry if you only sell 20 stories -- this is still really neat!! etc etc).

Ahhh, well. For now, we'll just focus on him getting better. He's proud of his "pain button" that he can push when he needs it, and he's not needing to push it very often at this point, so I'm pretty happy about that.

We're getting kicked out now for about and hour and a half while the docs do their rounds, so I'm going to close this long and somewhat rambly post now.

I'm just looking at him laying in the bed here -- this boy who is so much bigger than the little boy I have in my head, and yet so much smaller than this bed he is laying in. The bed makes his chest look not quite as broad and his hands look not quite so strong. I can see he is turning into a man right before my eyes, but he is still my baby. Always will be my baby.

In God's Hands

When our children are young, we do everything for them and they can't really do things for themselves. We change their diapers, we put food into their mouths, we cradle them in our arms when they are sad, hungry or maybe just want to be cuddled.

As they get older, they start to learn to do things for themselves. They get more and more independent as time goes on. I remember when Malkolm was just about 2-years-old, a woman I worked with told me that the weaning was the first step to him being an independent adult. That when he weaned, he would from that moment gradually continue the separation process until he was grown and living with his own family. I remember not really liking that way of thinking -- even though technically it's true; that's not something you want to think about when it comes to your children.

I know if Sia and I do our jobs correctly, ironically, we are teaching him to live apart from us, when every fiber of my heart wants it to be otherwise. But, that is just part of the blessing of being a parent. That love that we feel -- when it seems like there just can't be any more, another gusher opens up, spewing joy and happiness into every nook and cranny of our lives.

So now, here we sit, in this waiting room. There are big yellow circles on the floor, cheerful toy tables with colorful balls and beads, chairs that are much too small for me to ever sit on. And the families. Families waiting like us for their children to be delivered safely into their arms following their procedures.

There are white phones placed among the chairs in the room -- the white phones that bring the news from the surgeon during surgery. The white phones are a visual connection that we have with the surgical staff; even though we can't be in the room, just seeing those phones is comforting in a way.

One of the nurses just called not too long ago and let us know that Malkolm went to sleep with no problems, and the surgery was underway. This was about 9:45 a.m. .... We're expecting a call in about an hour with another progress report.

My baby, in God's hands. Nothing new. His strong hands have been carrying Malkolm since birth and I know Malkolm is not alone.



Thank you for your continued support and prayers. What a difference this makes!!!

-Jennifer

Happy Birth Day Malkolm!

The surgery is scheduled for 7 a.m. tomorrow, well, I guess that's today now. We're supposed to be there at 6:30 a.m.; it will take about an hour for Malkolm to get anesthetized and then surgery will take about three to four hours. So my guess is surgery will be at least 7:30 or later, but I'm not too worried about that.

The constant parade of physicians coming in today -- with each one having their own specialty and their job concerning Malkolm's surgery -- was oddly comforting, even when they talked about the risks.

We had another blessing tonight at dinner -- that kind of encompasses the overwhelmingly positive response we have had through this whole experience.

We went to Carrabbas italian restaurant for dinner. Malkolm chose it -- he had told us that he wanted to go there because he likes how you can dip the bread in the olive oil and eat it when you are waiting for your food. I found out on the way, though, that the reason he picked this restaurant instead of Olive Garden was because he knew I liked it. And that is SO Malkolm.

Just before we got our food, I made up an excuse to go talk to our waitress to see if they sing happy birthday or anything like some restaurants will do for people's birthdays and such. Even though his birthday is in September, surgery day is the first day of his new life, I thought it would be a neat surprise for them to sing happy birthday to him.

The waitress was standing at the hostess stand with the hostess and another waiter. She said they didn't sing, but they did have a cake and such -- I told her that was totally great and I told her about Malkolm's surgery. As it turned out, after we finished our wonderful meal about 10 waiters and waitresses not only brought the birthday dessert to him, but they also sang happy birthday to him, something they don't do, but they did it for him. They also gifted his meal, so his meal was free for us.

The immense response we receive is just like this -- from everyone. People we know, people we have never met, people who have been friends with us for years. The response is engaging and captivating and utterly humbling. People embracing him and loving him and us, (selfishly) it makes this jagged pill a little easier to swallow.

And the notes we receive, of people finding their faith again, finding inspiration in this young child's faith is probably the most life changing thing of all of this. To know that a worthy message is being passed along, a message of pure, child-like faith is truly uplifting.

I am okay with this peace that defies all understanding. I will do my best to post tomorrow to give an update. Thanks for reading and especially thanks again for caring about my little man.

So as we approach the morning, I know in about seven hours my baby will be on a table with white sheets and a whole bunch of really wonderful medical staff around him, taking a big breath when they put on the mask, then falling asleep to undergo his surgery ... and I will be in the waiting room with my family and friends, holding on to the faith he gave me to hold until he wakes up and I can give it back to him.



-Jennifer

:)

What a Day!

The date is March 23. Tomorrow, I will have my surgery at 7 am. This morning, I had to wake up at 3 am! We were soon out the door, and on our way to Atlanta! My sister and I fell asleep within minutes. I was not surprised, because I had been working on my novel -- The Pencil Boy -- till midnight.

I woke up and went back to sleep several times. I woke up fully at about eight o'clock. After driving around for about forty minutes, we found the hospital. I was led to a room, and they took my blood pressure and I started to wait. A few doctors came in and out, giving info or papers to sign.

After about three doctors, a woman came in with a large colorful TV on wheels. It was a small screen, and at the bottom of the TV, There was what looked like a drawer that said Nintendo. After the lady left to get some VHS tapes for us to watch, I hopped off my "hospital bed" and opened the drawer. It had a VCR in it, and also had a Nintendo 64, one of those non-portable old Nintendos.

We put in Super Mario Bros. , and I was a little surprised how good the graphics were. I had expected them to be a bunch worse. It was an old Nintendo, and my mom or dad had told me how basic the graphics had been when he/she had played it.

Malia, my little sister, didn't agree with it because it wasn't a "two-player" game. She persuaded to me to pick a game called "Power Puff Girls." I actually ended up liking the game, and we played it for a long time. My dad had also played with me. He played the Power Puff Girls one and one that was football. He was an all-time champion on that one. My mom had told me that he had done it a bunch before in college or something.

As we played some of the games, we had to pause every now and then when a doctor came in. After the doctors stopped coming, I went to get my blood tested for germs (Ouch!) and got an X-ray. Then we headed to our hotel and took all of our luggage to our room. We settled in, and then here I am, typing my blog.

Two Days Now

Well, we are packing, doing laundry, getting everything ready to spend two weeks in a home away from home. We found a wonderful deal -- a nice hotel not far from the hospital (5 minutes) for $70 a night. We thought it would be easier to stay in one place than to stay in the Ronald McDonald house for one or two nights and then have to move out to another place. I'm thinking about my mental state yet to come. Scary thought.

Yesterday at church, the congregation prayed over Malkolm and Sia and me. It was a refreshing, spiritually uplifting experience. Seems it came just in time. Malkolm was a bit overwhelmed by it all. Sometimes I forget he is 9.

Just before we went up to pray I had a moment of breakdown. The music was echoing in my ears, my heart heavy and aching. Every time my heart beats it sounds so loud in my ears and I wish so badly that I could give it to Malkolm. Give those heart beats to that precious little boy. My baby.

I prayed, pleaded. God, please don't take my baby. Please please please don't need him now. Please give him back to me healed and whole. I need to hold his hand tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. I need to see him get excited on Christmas morning and tell me it's okay that we didn't have a birthday party for him again this year. I want to hear him comfort his little sister as she's crying, telling her that just because she has a timeout it doesn't mean Momma doesn't love her. That everything will be okay. I want to hug his future wife and cradle his children in my arms, to marvel how much they look like their daddy. Oh God please don't take my baby, please don't need him now. I need him now. I need him.

I know this is not the faith I claim to profess speaking. This is something else. Something that doesn't come from God, but from my flesh. And it's getting harder and harder to quiet this. But I can say, after we prayed yesterday. With the whole congregation agreeing with us in prayer, I felt like my son had a shield on his chest. Over his heart. A protection that wasn't there before. And I'm going to hold onto that as long as I can.

On a brighter note, we found a story this week that he had written just before he started first grade. It was cool to see how much his writing has progressed since then. I will paste in in below. For those of you who have purchased his story Luna -- you will see a big difference in his use of descriptive language and general flow of the story. It's kind of cool to see that progression.

My heart is heavy, but my spirit is light. I am tired though. Really, really tired. Not because I can't sleep -- there's just so much to do. When my head hits the pillow, I am literally asleep within just a couple of minutes.

Just trying to close most of my ebay listings and give all the necessary connection information to my creative firm partners so they can keep up with clients while I'm away. Thanks to my awesome neighbor and friend, I don't have to close all my listings, as she will be processing my orders for me. Can't thank you enough Jean!!!

We got the cost for the genetic testing today. $5,400. Gotta say that was a bit of a punch in the gut. I think insurance will pay 60% if it gets approved, but that still leaves $2,160 per child. PER CHILD?!! Ahhh, goodness. So how do you chose between paying your bills and making sure your children aren't in danger? Why is this all so expensive?

Malkolm's story has been a smashing success. I know I'm biased, I am his mother. He is my baby, this little person whose heart has grown as big as his body, his heart that ironically is fighting against him every day also represents the care and generosity that he has always shown to others and the feeling that he puts into his writing.

He is wondering if someone will see it who might want to publish it for real. Wouldn't that be swell? I guess time will tell.

ok, well, I need to go get another box of tissues, and I think Malkolm and I are going to play a game of chess. One of many more to come over the next couple of weeks.

MUCH LOVE to you -- thank you for sharing this experience with our family. Thank you for your prayers, your gifts but most of all, thank you for your love. The love you've shown for my son is something that I will never forget no matter how long I live.

-Jennifer

Oh, almost forgot about the story. It's called DragonCatcher.

Malkolm Poyer
8-8-2007

Chapter 1
Once upon a time, on a mountain a dragon was born. All the dragons that were flying around gathered. The dragon catcher stole the baby dragon. But on the way, the dragon bit the dragon catcher and the dragon catcher dropped the dragon by accident. The dragon dropped into a trash can in an alley.

In the alley of the city, two teenagers lived. They were orphans. The dragon was in the alley. It was a baby dragon. The teenagers found the baby dragon, but thought it was a lizard.

And day after day, the teenagers fed the “lizard.” And one day the teenagers saw the dragon grow, and grow. First they saw the dragon grow its big, spiky tail. Then they saw its big feet with sharp claws. And then they saw its big, scaly, skinny wings. Finally they saw its big head with sharp teeth.

“Hello,” said the dragon.
“Who said that?” said the teenagers.
“Me” said the dragon.
“You, the lizard? It can’t be!” said the teenagers.
“I’m not a lizard, I’m a dragon.”

Meanwhile . . . in the dragon catcher’s lair, “I’m going to kill a dragon,” said the dragon catcher, “with my secret weapon, the Dragon Killer 3000. Ha! Ha! The dragons couldn’t stand this there are lasers and everything ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Chapter 2
“Hello,” said the children.
“Do you want to play?” said the dragon.
“Yes!” said the teenagers.
“Come on!” said the dragon.
“Let’s play ball!” said the teenagers.
All of the sudden the dragon catcher flew by. “Woah!” said the dragon. “Hop on!”
“What’s the matter?” said the teenagers.
“This guy called the “dragon catcher” just flew by said the dragon.
“Oh, ok, let’s go!” said the teenagers.

Chapter 3
“Fly down there me and my sister will distract the dragon catcher while you sneak up on him and eat him ok?”
“Ok!” said the dragon. The dragon flew down, the teenagers got off and distracted the dragon catcher, and the dragon ate the dragon catcher. The dragon said, “Thank you, you saved all the dragons and me! Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes!” said the teenagers.

THE END

Far From Home

I am not digging this being away from my son thing. I know that we're not that far, but as far as my feelings go, we may as well be in Siberia. I was actually okay until we got back in the room tonight and I started processing orders, and replying to people who purchased Malkolm's story today. I'm not feeling strong at all right now. For the first time, I broke down thinking about the process Malkolm will go through.

We'll be right there with him when he goes to sleep, his chest the same as it always has been, and then we'll be there when he wakes up. To hold his little hand as he sleeps in that healing sleep with the fingernails that are just a little too long with small hints of remnants of dirt from the playground he hasn't been able to play on for a while. To run my fingers through his mohawk as it outgrows it's original style, looking more like a mullet. To watch his chest with a new line down the middle of it rise and fall as the machine breathes for him for two days. To see the tubes, drains, IVs ...

I don't know why I allowed myself to start thinking about this -- in a way, it felt good to let myself go there, but just like giving in to anger -- it tastes good for a bit and then after a few bites, I realize it's rancid. There are so many doubts I feel like I want to voice, but I don't want to give it life; I can't give it life. I don't want to sign for that package -- it needs to go.

I have to remind myself that the only difference between worry and meditation is the subject matter. It seems I am not listening to my own advice.

I must say it is much harder here, without the kids, without my husband. We go back tomorrow night. At this point I wish I could plug in like Neo in "The Matrix" and just get it all at once and then go home. Sometimes a momma just needs kid hugs and wet, sloppy baby kisses -- or to just to sit quietly with her husband on the couch, her head on his shoulder, feeling his strength seeping into her.

Sweet dreams my little prince.

-Jennifer

:)

Trip to Atlanta

I'm a growly bear today. I'm finding that I'm angry though I'm not really sure why. Gotta say I'm about emotioned out.

I'm headed to Atlanta tomorrow for an Ebay thing. Going to learn more about how to manage my Ebay store. I registered a while ago, and it's non-refundable, non-transferrable and am going up with a friend who also sells on Ebay. I'll be back Saturday night, but I can say that it's not lost on me that my next trip that way will be for a whole different reason.

It's going to be a nice drive with plenty of Red Bull and chit chat which will be a help when it comes to dealing with things, I think.

Someone sent this to me today:

Hello, this is God. I want you to know I am here,
and I am taking care of everything today. So, there is no need to worry.

-God



I think that says just about everything I wanna say.

-Jennifer

Sometimes it Takes a Sledghammer

I took my daughter to her 9-month well-baby check-up this morning. Above average across the board, and like her big brother Malkolm, her head measurement is off the chart. heh. She looks so much like him when he was a baby. I've become accustomed to calling her Malkolm's Twinkie lately. Looking at her is like looking in a reverse Malkolm mirror.

I was on the way home from this appointment, and I became fully aware how much encouragement and support we were receiving and the feeling of being so unworthy really hit me hard. Not the safest thing in all the land, to be driving in the rain and crying with my mom asking me every couple of minutes if I wanted her to drive (sorry I made you nervous mama!). It is truly overwhelming how people are unabashedly giving of themselves, caring about our son and our family. ... Willing to extend themselves beyond their own circles of comfort to help repair and bolster ours.

How is it possible that these people who are blessing us with their prayers, gifts, letters, words of encouragement are feeling blessed themselves? Someone buying Malkolm's story or giving us gifts and thanking US? It really doesn't make any sense, you know?

How can one be clearly taking so much, and yet both feel as though they are getting the better end of the deal?

And then I remembered that when God is involved, when God is in the center of any relationship that there is fulfillment on both ends. Both parties feel like they are sucking each other dry and yet both come away more complete and fulfilled than before. Another BIG clue for me that God is controlling all of this. Not just on surgery day. Not just today or tomorrow, but 10 years ago, and 10 years from now.

If that's not some kind of special miracle, I don't know what is.

Sometimes when you can't see the forest through the trees, it takes a little tap with a sledgehammer to open your eyes. I guess sometimes a sledgehammer comes in many forms. Why does it take a sledgehammer for me to realize that I have to let go and let God? I KNOW it doesn't matter what doctor is doing the surgery, if he has only done one other surgery like Malkolm's, or if he has done a million of them. Malkolm is in the hands of the Ultimate Surgeon and God is in the middle of all of this.

Comforting indeed.

-Jennifer

:)

Seven Days to Go - We Were on TV

Sitting here, I'm not really sure what to write about. Not sure I even want to write. Seven days to go and I think the emotional drain has settled in.

This time next week, we'll be sitting in a hotel room waiting for tomorrow to arrive. The day before the surgery, there aren't any food limitations, so we're going to let Malkolm pick what restaurant we go to (I am secretly hoping it's Italian food) for dinner. And yes, baby, you can have dessert!!

The events of the past several days have been a huge blessing, not just from the emotional and financial support coming our way, but also from the distraction this has provided me, personally. Sia is stoic. He goes to work, comes home, takes care of the kids, cleans up, never complains. ... Never complains. I watch him do his daddy thing and my heart breaks because I know what he is feeling inside -- that same heartbeat and love that embodies my son. Somehow we're going through this together and yet there are miles between us. I don't quite understand that. I love him so much it hurts.

My 4-year-old is becoming a bit more aggressive and tantrumy; I know that this whole thing is hard for her in a way that she can't express except through her behavior. It must be so confusing! I feel like I am somehow not giving her what she needs right now and that makes my heart heavy.

My protectiveness of Malkolm (and all my kids) is raging against my self-control and I'm doing what I can to hold it together. The constant stream of encouragement and prayers is definitely making a positive difference; I cannot imagine going through this whole thing without the knowledge that our child is in the hands of the ultimate surgeon.

And here I am -- writing Malkolm's blog and it seems more like therapy for me than anything else. Sorry about that. I guess I kind of knew this experience would be an emotional rollercoaster, but I am looking forward to the day when Malkolm takes over the blog and is talking about what activities he did and what books he's read, and what science experiments he wants to do because that will mean we're on the other end and we already got through all the hard stuff.

On a brighter note, Malkolm was really excited about the TV interview today, Jade B. from WALB TV was super nice, and she filmed us all a bit. (At this point, I'm convinced the camera adds more than 10 pounds ;) )

There were a couple of facts wrong in the story, but it was still a nice story, and the intention came through.

Here's a link with the video included: http://www.wmbfnews.com/Global/story.asp?S=12150701

I must say, it was painfully clear to me that I am not the one with the public speaking talent in our home. Malkolm sure does have some potential, though. At his Cub Scouts meeting tonight (the last one for a while) he told the boys all about his surgery and the Ebay listing and everything going on. After the meeting, our den leader told me that he thought Malkolm is really great at the public speaking thing -- he said Malkolm really had it together and that I should encourage that. Somehow I don't think I'm going to have to -- Malkolm was pretty pleased when I told him. Someone on the Ebay Powerseller Discussion Board had mentioned before that he could run for President some day -- I cannot think of a better candidate!! :D

Thank you for your continued support and prayers!!

Jennifer

Information Requests and General Chatter

We've had several requests for our mailing address -- if you are interested in purchasing one of Malkolm's stories and you don't want to do it through Ebay, our mailing address is

Malkolm's Story
PO Box 308
Hahira, GA 31632

Our PayPal address is my e-mail -- jenn.poyer@gmail.com -- just be sure your mailing address in on your payment so we know where to send the story. :D

We are having an interview today with WALB TV, they will be here in about 30 minutes. Well try to get a copy of the video to post here if we can. Also, when we find out when it will air -- I'll post it on the facebook group page.

Thank you again for your lovely notes, phone calls and emails. They mean more to us than we can ever explain.

-Jennifer

:)

My Sister Malia

My sister Malia is four years old. She can sometimes be very funny. The video below is proof. My mom was playing with our camera built in to the laptop and took this video a week ago.




-Malkolm

A Battle of a Different Sort

Four days after my son was born, I called my mother and I asked her WHY she didn't tell me. There I was, still waddling around with the world's largest pad in my pants, wondering why she didn't tell me how wonderful this whole motherhood thing was. Why she didn't tell me about the amazing feeling that I was experiencing? How totally unbelievably awesome it was to hold this little helpless raisin in my arms, to smell him and feel his heart beating against mine. She laughed and told me, "Honey, you wouldn't have understood."

And I do believe that is true. It's something that even someone as wordy as I can't really give justice to with any sort of explanation.

My favorite quote of all time is by Elizabeth Stone: "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." I believe no truer words have ever been spoken. There is no way to understand or describe the unending waterfall of love we feel for our children ... and paired with that, the pain we feel where there is something going on in their lives that we just can't protect them from.

I remember when our very first heart doctor, Doctor Flippin in Lubbock, Texas, told us about Malkom's HCM, explained what it was, showed us the diagram of what his heart looked like under that broad, smooth baby chest. Malkolm was less than 1 month old, I think. I remember she was talking and I was looking at her hair, wondering how she kept it in position; I was wondering what kind of hairspray she used. I remember her nails were perfectly manicured and her make-up was pretty. And I remember when she told us that our son could die any time, that there is no way to predict when and that this was a very serious condition. It felt like someone had parked a Hummer on my chest. My ears were ringing and I was trying so hard not to cry, biting my lip, looking at Malkolm as he lay in his carrier looking off into space.

And then, I remember her telling us as we were leaving how beautiful he was. And I was angry. I was SO ANGRY at her for telling us our son could die anytime and then in the next breath saying what a wonderful baby he was. I look back now, and I still don't fully understand that reaction.

When I found out on March 1, 2010 that my 9-year-old son needed open heart surgery to save his life, I was shattered. In my mind, over the years I had somehow convinced myself that he probably didn't even need the medicine that he took every day.

On several occasions as he was growing up, he had to wear a halter -- this thing with leads (which, by the way, although sticky on the ends, are all but impossible to keep on a 2- or 3-year-old without a load of duct tape) that look like he is getting an EKG, except they go to a little box that he wears around his waist. This box records everything going on with his heart for a 24-hour period, and then we take the box to the hospital where they read the results and let us know if there are any irregularities or "events" that happen. Every time, the doctors said everything was fine. What a waste of time I thought it was. He's TOTALLY FINE. Why do they worry so?

Through his life, as he grew, so did his gradient. His first gradient measure at 1-month-old was 78. We've watched that number rise steadily as he gets older. When he is sleeping I can sit next to him and count his pulse rate just by looking at his chest, his little heart working so hard to pump that life-giving blood to his body, even at rest. It's not the most comforting thing ever, I must admit.

When the doc had told us he needed a defibrillator a few months ago -- more denial. I remember he said -- he really should have it "just in case." I was thinking - NO WAY they are going to cut my baby open on a "just in case" -- NO WAY. On a whim ... a guess?! I didn't even want to entertain the idea. The doc also mentioned heart transplant and I laughed. Whatever dude. Transplant this.

Going back to March 1st ... looking at the doctors faces as they explained ... when looking at the screen in that darkened room and seeing his blood pressure recorded, far too low for blood pressure during exercise ... I finally had to be shaken from my comfort zone and take reality by the horns. I found the trip coming out of La-La Land is not an pleasant one.

The ride home was probably the longest four hours of my life and I cried nearly the whole way. My husband, dealing with it in his own way, quietly, and me, wanting to talk about it with every family member, every friend who's number was saved in my phone, just trying to get a grip on what we were facing and what I was feeling.

Then, there's Malkolm, sitting in the back seat with his sisters, arguing with Malia over which movie they were going to watch and whose turn it was to pick. Totally oblivious of the seriousness of what just transpired. *gush of love*

No matter what happens, though, no matter what thoughts race through my head, I keep coming back to what Malkolm said. "Remember momma, God is in control!" And then I remember that God loves our children more than we love them. How is this possible?! He loves my baby Malkolm more than I could ever understand with my little teeny pea brain. God sees eternity in an instant, how can I even begin to question His decisions?! And how come I can't have just a bit of that complete confidence that someone much younger than I has in spades?

The Battle rages on, but I'm a fighter, standing behind General Malkolm with my own breastplate, helmet and sword, following his example.

I'm here for you baby. And I love you more than you'll ever know.


-Jennifer

Luna Rates High Among Readers

A very eventful day ... Many people have purchased Malkolm's story and so far the reviews are excellent!

Some Comments We Have Received About Malkolm's Story "Luna"

"Jennifer, did you help him write this? Tell the truth now, did you?"

"How old is he again? Only 9?!!"

"... he shows a great deal of talent, not just grammar wise, but concept, continuity, etc. of a writer well beyond 9-years-old. "

"... thank you and tell Malkolm I love his story."

"... his story is incredible! It is so advanced for his age. He has a great future as a writer. Truly!"

"Absolutely fantastic inspiring story by a literary genius A+++++"

And, this is a new video -- made my one of my ebay friends ... had to grab a box of tissues, you might do the same.



We are now officially counting down, 10 more days as of midnight!!!

Much Love,

Jennifer

:)

Writer's Sleepy Sets In

Wow, Malkolm is signing each copy of his story, preparing them for mailing. He has sold over 100 stories and claims to be getting intermittent writers cramp after signing 30. I told him I'm pretty sure he couldn't get writers cramp from signing just 30. He said, " Mom? I may not be getting writer's cramp, but I am getting 'writer's sleepy' if that exists."

(Well, so now I know if he is not tired and ready for sleep any given night, we'll just have him sign his name in cursive a few times and that should do it.)


Here is Malkolm signing each story, bravely enduring "Writer's Sleepy."

The events of yesterday and today have been kind of a whirlwind. We posted an auction on Ebay, and it seemed like a real knock when it was pulled for a listing violation just after at 3 a.m.; but like the saying goes, every knock is a boost, and boy has this been boosted. We're so thankful for all the efforts of our friends and family to share Malkolm's story auction with their friends and family to see how far this can reach. We even had a buyer in Italy today!

We'll be using this for now to keep everyone posted on the listing and how it's doing, and how everything is going with Malkolm as we prepare for his surgery.

For those of you who know my son, you'll understand this. Malkolm is somewhat of an old soul (to coin your phrase Zan). He comprehends things that are so far beyond his age it's almost a shock when the 9-year-old emotions come out. Sometimes I forget he's only 9, but he definitely is just this young boy who loves his little sisters (even when they fight), loves his family and loves his God. His faith inspires me --I battle my flesh constantly to gather the faith as large as a mustard seed, and I look over at him and see his the size of a Great Sequoia. I can tell you that God has definitely been working on my heart throughout this whole experience, and like I have said many times -- our children are blessings. Presents that we get to open every day and every moment is a gift whether it is 9 years or 50 years; I'll take what I can get and I would rather have anything than nothing at all.

Kind of a neat thing, one of the people who purchased his story from a family of writers showed it to his wife (an author herself), and his wife guessed it was probably written by a high school freshman. Malkolm thought that was pretty cool (ok, so did I, but I know that my view of him is completely biased in every way, so my opinion doesn't count in this instance.)

Thank you for your prayers and well wishes -- our family is immensely appreciative!! We'll be posting more as time allows! Once Malkolm gets through some more autographs, he'll be on here to post and reply to comments and such. Might be a couple of days, apparently "Writer's Sleepy" is a pretty serious affliction. ;)

-Jennifer

:)

Some Random Thoughts

Malkolm doesn't know about this blog yet. The truth is, all of this information was in an ebay listing and we found out that it is not information you can put in an ebay listing. (oopsy!)

I am a powerseller on Ebay -- and I mostly sell DVDs, but have recently found myself selling collectibles (ok, it is really just Malkolm's story), and overall I have really enjoyed the "Ebay Experience." Most of all though, I have enjoyed meeting the people on the powerseller discussion board who have turned out to be friends. I have also met some very nice buyers who have really touched my life in one way or another.

Anyway, Malkolm and I have been discussing the idea of him writing a blog for some time so I guess now is a good a time as any. His surgery is March 24, and I know he'll have some down time after. He will be in the ICU for 1-2 days following his surgery, and then 6-7 days in a step-down unit and then possibly released to come home where it will be another couple of weeks before he goes back to school.

He's excited about being a car rider for 6-8 weeks after he's back at school, and he's probably going to have more time to blog here.

Thank you for all your encouraging notes and letters and for buying his story. He is asleep right now, but I know when he wakes up he's going to be thrilled with this new toy!

-Jennifer P.

:)

One Special Kid

A story for sale, an author with a Lion's Heart.

My son Malkolm. How do I describe him? He is an amazing kid with a sharp wit and a kind heart. At 2-years-old he was having regular conversations with grown-ups, and learning how to read. At 3-years-old he was learning how to golf with Dad and play with other kids at his daycare (he is three in the pic on the listing). At 9-years-old he is reading anything he can get his hands on (lots of times he gets in trouble because he can't seem to put the books down!), he is doing long division and simple algebra. He loves math and science and hopes to go to Space Camp someday when he is old enough. Right now, he's happy to say he wants to be an aerospace engineer.

At birth he was diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Also known as HCM and sometimes "nicknamed" Sudden Death Disease. This is the defect that many athletes who die suddenly in competition have (but don't realize they have it until it is too late), however in a way he is blessed that he was diagnosed so early because we have known exactly what we were dealing with from the start. He has had more echocardiograms than I care to admit, and more EKGs than I can count. There is a number called a gradient -- which measures the obstruction caused by the thickened muscle in the heart. For a normal heart, this number is zero. Surgery is usually required when it gets over 50 (although this varies, surgery is usually done anywhere from 10-90), and his last stress test measured Malkolm's at 183. His blood pressure dropped to a dangerously low level during his stress test, and we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he needs this surgery. I guess we sort of knew this day would eventually come, the day they tell us that he'll have to have surgery, but the reality of it is a much different feeling than just knowing. His surgery date is March 24.

He's so excited to see what his heart will feel like afterwards. Mom - do you think I will be able to run far? Mom, do you think I'll be able to breathe better? Mom, if I'm going to be asleep for two or three days, do you think I'll lose weight? Then after a thoughtful pause ... Mom -- now I'm going to have to learn how to take my pulse like everyone else instead of just putting my finger on my chest, right? I look at him (as he's poking his sternum, looking at the ceiling, pretending to count) and I blink a couple times, not quite sure what to say, and then he laughs, a big, hearty 9-year-old boy laugh and he says "just kidding Mom." (kind of an inside joke that when explained wouldn't really be funny, but trust me, that was pretty funny).

He has many times talked about selling his dioramas on ebay or other things that he makes, but we just have never really gotten around to doing it; he's a good writer, he earned a kindergarten writing medal for being the top writer for the whole grade level in the school and his writing went to the regional competition where he placed second.

So, we're talking a bit more and he said, Mom, do you think someone would want to buy some of my stories on ebay? And then we can use the money for my surgery. *sharp breath in ... must. not. cry*

This is the kid that I pay 25 cents to pack each package (he tapes the labels on and makes sure each one has a "5-star-slip" and double checks to make sure I didn't put the wrong DVD in the envelope), and he told me that he didn't want me to pay him for a while until we finish paying for the surgery. ... OMGosh. I don't know whether to cry or laugh or just hug him -- or maybe all three.

I'm going to continue to pay him those quarters that are adding up, and I'm going to love him even more for offering to give it up, when I know how much it means to him.

Malkolm is excited to have the chance to "keep up with the other kids" and not get so out of breath all the time (that about broke my heart when he told me that ...). When I started crying he said, "Remember momma, God is in control!" Ahhhh. The faith of a child. He slays me... I adore him...

Note from Malkolm:

Hello. This is Malkolm. I'm raising money for my heart surgery. The problem with my heart that the doctors are going to fix is called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It is where a muscle in my heart is larger than it's supposed to be, and it blocks off the blood flow, making it harder for the blood to come through and give oxygen to my heart and body.

The type of surgeries that I will be getting are called septal myectomy and they will be putting a defibrillator in my chest. The septal myectomy is when they cut off some of the muscle that is in the way. I am getting really excited about the surgery. I have many questions in my head: Will I be able to keep up more easily? Will I no longer have fainting sessions? How will I be able to take my pulse after the surgery? (right now I can see my heart beat in my chest) How much will my sternum ache? How will I be able to do things that I can't do when I'm recovering? That is not all of the questions, but they are the main ones.

My heart problem has been in me ever since I was born. My dad has it too, and I inherited it from him. It has been hard for me to be running and doing really good in a competition and then feeling like I'm going to faint. PE has been especially hard and I really like the idea of being able to keep up with everyone a little better.

My mom's been pretty worried about me, but I just tell her that God is in control and He allows things to happen for a special reason. Some of the things that He allows may be distressing but it all happens for a reason that we don't always understand. The surgery doesn't bother me much because I know God is in control, but Mom doesn't always take that concept easily.

I hope that you enjoy my story, I really like to write and am working on other stories that I will hopefully be able to get published some day. Please save your story that is signed by me and hopefully in the future it will be worth a lot more than it is now!

Thank you for buying my story, please look at the ebay listing here: http://tiny.cc/MalkolmsStory

Sincerely,

Malkolm Poyer

Excerpt from "Luna"

I keep on striding down the road, and a nice little house steps into my view. There is a closed window, and a small candle glows inside. I hear a voice: “Goodnight, Katie.” A small voice replies: “Goodnight, mommy.”

I think to myself, “I think I’ll take a peek.” I jump toward the window, trying to get their attention. As soon as I smack against the window, I black out.


...


Got to http://tiny.cc/MalkolmsStory to buy to read the rest of my story! :D