Journal Entries, James E. Kerns

 

Thursday 15 August 1991

The Tuesday before last I lifted a rock incorrectly while camping with Matt and Wells Holmes.  By Saturday evening I was in the worst pain any session with my back has ever given me.  I could barely shuffle, I couldn’t sit, stand or lie down.  By Monday morning I was blacking out when I stood up.

I had the kids cut some poles and make a stretcher.  I rolled onto it and they slid me into the back of the station wagon.  Margie took me to the emergency room where I was poked, pulled, examined and x-rayed.  It was determined that I had a pulled muscle.  I was given a shot, and I walked out.

The shot wore off, however, and the pills aren’t as effective, so it’s been a tough few days.

 

Monday 2 September 1991

During the month of August I’ve aged 40 years.  I think it all stems from a campout I went on with Matt and three other 16-year-olds.  They nearly killed me.  First, they put 10 pounds of beef stew in my pack, and all the dry goods in theirs.  (I didn’t know this).  Then they began this forced march designed to show one another how strong they were.  There was no way I could keep up.  It was very humiliating—not to mention life threatening.

I was in a perfect panic by the time we’d gone nine miles and made camp at Twin Lakes.  I knew I’d die the next day since a 20-mile hike would be required to get us to the next designated campsite.

I lay awake all night wondering how I could avert disaster.  By morning I had it.  I’d convince them that the only way to get back in time would be to scale the cliffs above Rock Creek Lake, camp at Rock Creek Lake, and hike home the next day.  The plan worked perfectly.  I ditched them at Rock Creek Lake and told them I’d have to hike on out that day in order to intercept Margie in time to keep her from going to pick us up at Anthony Lakes the next day.  I then ambled on out to the Rock Creek Lake trailhead—at my own pace—stashed my pack where I could get it with the pickup the next day, and walked home.

There were only two catches in my survival plan.  One was that I lifted a big rock incorrectly as I built a new fire ring for breakfast at Twin Lakes.  I felt something snap in my back.  I knew that meant misery was on the way and that I had to get home fast.

I wouldn’t have been building a fire ring at all except that during this forced march we were on we kept getting rained on.  I found this cramped place in a grove of trees just big enough for two tents.  We hastily erected them as fog, rain, thunder and lightning rolled in.

After the storm passed, the boys crawled out of the tents and asked if I cared where they built the fire.  I didn’t care about anything.  Neither did I leave my tent until morning.

It turned out that I should have cared about that fire.  Jason built it 9 inches from my tent.  I lay there with a bright glow in my tent, listened to the sharply snapping fire, watched the great sparks go past my door, and calculated how much time I’d have to get out once it caught fire or melted around my ears.  I didn’t know which it would do.  I also didn’t know whether I actually could get out of my sleeping bag and make it to the door.  If the truth were known, I really didn’t care.  One form of death is just as effective as another.  Matt brought me my supper in bed, and by morning my survival instincts had revived.

The first order of the day was to move that fire.  I wisely built one ten feet away.  But I picked up that stupid rock in a most unwise way.

The other catch in my plan was the 16 miles I hiked that second day.  Most of it was without my pack, but my legs complained bitterly for several days thereafter.

While they were complaining, my back went into spasms.  A week after lifting that rock the kids made a stretcher, got me on it, and carefully put me in the back of the station wagon.  Margie drove me to La Grande to the emergency room.  I knew I was going to be admitted and wanted to be near the bone doctors that would undoubtedly have to do surgery on my ruptured and slipped discs and repair all the broken vertebrae.

At the emergency room two emergency technicians wheeled a gurney up to the car.  Carefully they pulled me out and halfway onto the gurney.  At that point the gurney collapsed.  Through my screams I heard one of the technicians say, “Oh, not this gurney again!”

I remained on that particular gurney for the next hour or two while they forgot I was there.  It may not have been that long, but when you’re tensely waiting for your bed to hit the floor again time has a way of slowing down.  Eventually they came, gave me a shot, and I walked out of the hospital.  It was a miracle!  I could have taken up my bed and walked, except that I didn’t want it.

All went well for five days.  I took my muscle relaxant and my anti-inflammatory pills.  Then my legs decided to get back in the picture.  First my left ankle felt sprained.  The next day my right knee got sore.  The next day the left ankle swelled.  Next day ditto for the right knee.  That night I developed a high fever and never slept.  Walking was a pitiful 84-year-old-type shuffle while holding onto walls, doorknobs, hinges, and passing people.

This time they let me in the hospital.  It was very humiliating.  I hadn’t been there since I was born.  I’d always been strong and healthy and prided myself in that fact.  I was there 5 days.  They put me on intravenous antibiotics for fear that I had an infection which would destroy the joints.  They couldn’t find an infection, nor could they name the disease, but the experts said to keep me on antibiotics to be safe.

 

Sunday 15 September 1991

It’s 4:00 a.m., I can’t sleep, and it’s time to record what’s been happening to me.  I’m the object of a family fast at this moment.  People’s faith and prayers are being directed at me, and I’m asking for a healing.  I hope to go to church today, following which Steve Perkins will give me a priesthood blessing.  The next morning I expect to get out of bed feeling normal.

This all began exactly one month ago.  On 15 August I felt like I’d sprained my left ankle.  The next day my right knee bothered me.  The next day my left ankle swelled and I developed a fever.  The next day my right knee swelled.  That night, Sunday the 18^th, was the worst and longest night of my life.  I was feverish, somewhat delirious, and unable to sleep a wink.

Morning finally came.  I was all but unable to walk.  My method of motivation was a pitiable shuffle holding onto walls, doorknobs and people.  Matthew had invited his friends and the elders to go hiking with him on the elders’ “P” day.  Margie was preparing to take me to a doctor, so I asked the elders to give me a blessing.

Elder Reed is fairly new to his mission.  He had never before given a priesthood blessing.  It was a wonderful blessing, not short, and has been my anchor for the past month.  I was promised no quick healing in the blessing.  To the contrary the blessing seemed to indicate that getting well would require some time.  The blessing promised me three things:  I was told that in the future I would understand the reason for this affliction.  I was told that this experience would unify my family, and I was told that I would recover with no lasting effects.

Elder Shaffer helped me hobble out to the car, and Margie took me to see Dr. Rex Wilson.  That was Monday 19 August.  Dr. Wilson pronounced me “a very sick man,” and put me in the hospital.  I was placed on an intravenous antibiotic just in case the joints were septic.  Septic, or infected, joints quickly deteriorate leading to the necessity of replacing them with artificial joints.  They then began drawing samples of blood, fluid from my knee, and urine.  These were cultured, but no bugs were found.  I was tested for gout, Lyme’s disease, H flu, and a host of other things.

My first diagnosis was infectious arthritis.  Then Reiter’s syndrome.  Then reactionary arthritis.  I stayed in the hospital from Monday until Friday.  Then I came home and administered the IV antibiotics to myself for nearly three weeks.  A home health nurse came every third day to give me a new IV site, and every 6 hours I dripped a bottle of medicine into my veins.

Monday, 9 September, Margie took me to an appointment in Boise with Dr. Polk, a rheumatologist.  He examined me, went through my records, x-rayed my back, and drew blood for tests for Lyme’s disease (again) and rheumatoid arthritis.  He went through a list of 20 things that he said I didn’t have, which tests had eliminated, and told me I had rheumatoid arthritis.  He diagnosed me this way even though the rheumatoid factor had not shown up in my blood.  It never does in 20% of the cases.

It was a shocking diagnosis.  That would be about one of the three worst things a doctor could tell me.  I’ve known some horribly crippled people with that disease.  I asked Margie what the worst thing was that a doctor could tell her she had.  She named rheumatoid arthritis and cancer, and then said, “But at least with cancer you know you’ll eventually die.”

And yet neither Margie nor I got upset or depressed about the diagnosis.  My sense is that the doctor came up with that diagnosis by process of elimination, and that it’s not right.  Even if it’s right I still have the priesthood blessing which said I’d recover with no lasting effects.

Tomorrow I’ll call for the results of the two latest blood tests.  I’m supposed to make an appointment with Dr. Wilson this week so that he can start me on two high-powered, scary-sounding medicines that I’d be taking for months or a lifetime that Dr. Polk is going to recommend.  I don’t want them.

Therefore, we’re fasting.  Margie called Nathan, Katie and her brothers and sisters.  Last evening we listened as a family to Gene R. Cook’s tape on receiving answers to prayers.  We had a family prayer and began the fast.  Surprisingly, we’ve never done this before.  Fasting seems to be a hit and miss thing in our family.  I haven’t done well teaching this principle.  Perhaps this is a reason for my illness.  Perhaps this is how my family needs to be unified.

On the way back from Boise I cast about in my mind wondering who I should ask to give me a blessing at the conclusion of the fast.  Steve Perkins came strongly to mind.  Steve is having family problems and has backslid in his church attendance, faithfulness, and living of the Word of Wisdom.  He sent word that he wasn’t worthy to give the blessing.  I called him and asked if he would, because I felt it was important, telling him that he could repent by Sunday of anything that needed repenting of, he could attend church, take the sacrament, and then be all ready to give me the blessing.  He said he would.  Perhaps Steve and Sandy are the reason for my illness.  Maybe this will get him back on track.

One sidelight to this situation was my being in the hospital where I could watch TV newscasts of the coup in the Soviet Union.  The coup took place the morning I entered the hospital.  In two days the coup had failed, the Russians had tasted freedom, and several days later the communist party was all but kicked out of the country.  All my life we’ve lived under the shadow of the threat of the Soviet Union and communism.  That country and that ideology threatened to dominate the world.

We’ve all watched spellbound as Eastern Europe began throwing off the communist yoke in 1989-90.  Country after country became free and opened their doors to the gospel.  Now Mother Russia herself is open for the gospel.  It’s a miracle.

Communism hangs on in only China, North Korea and Cuba.  The Lord is hastening his work in its time.  Those countries, too, will be open for the preaching of the gospel very soon.  The Church seemingly can’t move fast enough to keep up with newly-opened places to preach the gospel.  This is an exciting time.

Saturday 7 September my left knee swelled and became the third bad joint.  By Tuesday morning, however, through faith, I was able to start seminary, and did the chores (milking 6 cows and feeding 24 calves).  I did the chores night and morning through Friday morning.  Then I had to turn the chores back over to Matt and Aaron as I got evening fevers of over 100 degrees and my legs went bad again.  I haven’t been to church in all this time, but hope to be able to go today.

Matt has been invaluable all month.  He simply took over and did more than I would have if I’d been up.  He even put in a crop of alfalfa below the house.  He’s just been amazing.

 

Thursday 26 September 1991

My leg ailment is still with me.  Some days aren’t bad, others are terrible.  Indomethecin helps.  It’s an anti-inflammatory drug that I take 6 times a day.  President Perry has declared next Sunday, fast Sunday, a special day of fast for me.

 

Tuesday 1 October 1991

Ivy said to Grandma, “Daddy’s sick.”

“No he isn’t.  He’s not sick,” Grandma said.

“Yes he is,” Ivy responded.  “He has awful wightus.”

This weekend was fast Sunday.  President Perry declared it a special fast day for me, and asked the stake to fast in my behalf.  This is very humbling to me.  I hate being the center of attention, but I’m grateful for all the faith and prayers being directed my way.

Sunday night I slept clear through—probably the first time I’d done that since the onset of my illness.  Monday I felt the best I’ve felt.  I worked all day.  My legs are still stiff, but they’re better and not painful if I keep them limbered up.  I even went all day without my medicine.

The expert said I had rheumatoid arthritis.  I’m not convinced of that.  Whatever I have has affected my left ankle, two knees, my right foot at the base of the toes, my back and my neck.  Whatever it is will leave probably as suddenly as it came.  Elder Redd’s blessing said I would recover with no lasting effects.

During the stake fast I went to La Grande where we installed two new bishops:  Duane Baxter in La Grande 3^rd, and Russell Perry in La Grande 4^th.  Between meetings I asked if the three Perrys and President Bevell could give me a blessing.

When I asked (Patriarch) Elmer Perry if he would bless me, he broke down and cried.  He explained later that it had come to him earlier that the Lord had a blessing for me.  He prayed for confirmation of that, but didn’t think he should ask if he could bless me.  My asking him was his confirmation.

In the blessing he said, “I rebuke the illness which has been ravaging your body.”

 

Wednesday 2 October 1991

I had a tough day yesterday.  Monday I went without any pills and did just fine, but yesterday I couldn’t make it.  My legs froze up and became painful.  It takes 3 hours for the pills to take effect.  My head buzzes, I feel like a dishrag and shaky inside, then the pain leaves my legs and I can function again.  I’m taking Indomethecin, an anti-inflammatory drug.

 

Tuesday 8 October 1991

Yesterday I went to the doctor.  I guess I’m going to give in to the diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis and start taking methotrexate shots.—(I never did).

Last Thursday I went to my stake presidency meeting in La Grande.  I was gone about 5 hours.  When I got back I was in a bad way.  I had to honk for Margie to help me out of the car and into the house.  My feet were bad, my left thigh, my back, my neck.  I was in pain.  She put me in bed, gave me my Indomethecin, and dosed me with aspirin.  After an hour or so I was able to finally relax.

I’d worked hard that morning.  I was real slow, but I made myself keep going.  Maybe I overdid it.

Regardless, I have a problem, and I guess I have no choice but to follow doctors’ recommendations.

 

Wednesday 9 October 1991

Yesterday the elders called and insisted on coming out to help me as one of their service projects.  I submitted and had them build a fence around my hay.  That project had been worrying me since I needed to pasture that field, and I was unable to build the fence myself.

The elders ate with us, and then I took them to an appointment they had.  Afterward I took them to see Phil and Bev Stevenson where we showed “Man’s Search for Happiness” and had a wonderful discussion.

 

Monday 14 October 1991

My Sunday was nearly 12 hours long.  I left home at 8:30, went to La Grande for my marathon of meetings, and got home at 8:00.  I did well.  My legs didn’t go out on me.

I’ve lost 14 pounds from my problem.  I only weigh 158.  My legs that used to be so strong and muscular are skinny, pitiful-looking things with big, bulging knees.

 

Wednesday 16 October 1991

Yesterday the brethren from the ward came and spent from 2:30-dark making firewood for us.  They laid in the winter’s supply of wood for us.  I’m really grateful even though it was very hard on me to see those busy men leave their own business and come to work for me, a cripple.

 

Tuesday 7 January 1992

I’ve reached the conclusion that the doctors know what they’re talking about, and I’ve accepted their diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis.  Therefore, I need to find a non-physical job.  I’m going to sell the livestock.  This is a very scary thing for me.  I don’t know how I’m going to support my family.  I get almost sick with dread until I remember to exercise my faith, knowing that the Lord will take care of us.

Yesterday my doctor called Margie.  He was distressed because the x-ray of my left ankle showed that I had a fracture.  “He should be lying down with his foot elevated.”

I had an x-ray taken last week so that they could determine whether the arthritis was damaging my ankle.  The technician had read the x-ray and discovered a fracture that was less than 6 weeks old, since no evidence of bone growth was evident.

Another doctor was consulted, and he was of the opinion that this is something I was born with.

 

Monday 13 January 1992

Yesterday evening I was sitting in priesthood leadership meeting when the counselor in one of the bishoprics tapped me on the shoulder and passed an envelope to me.  The envelope said “President Kerns” on the outside in a child’s handwriting.

I opened it, thinking it might be a message I needed to act upon right away.  Instead I found a note saying “We love you.  Here’s something to help you in your job search—Acts 20:35.”  Enclosed in the note were four $100 bills.

 

Thursday 23 January 1992

I’m job hunting.  Next week I’ll sell the rest of our beef cattle.  This is scary.  I’ve never had to hunt for a job before and try to sell myself.  This is a recession, too, with high unemployment.  How am I going to be able to support my family?  Who’s going to want to hire me?  What is it that the Lord wants me to do?

 

Wednesday 19 February 1992

I took my last Indomethecin pill Tuesday 11 February.  My knees are still somewhat sore, but I’ve managed to do without the pills without getting any worse.  The rheumatoid nodules (one on each forearm) have all but disappeared.  I said months ago that when they disappeared I’d be well.  I think that’s going to be the case.

 

Thursday 23 March 2006

Fifteen years have passed since I took that last Indomethecin pill.  My missionary son, Danny, wrote to ask if I’d record my arthritis story.  The easiest way was to simply extract pertinent notes from my journals.

After the passage of all this time I’m convinced that I did, indeed, have rheumatoid arthritis.  I’ve since learned that RA has “paired” symptoms.  If one joint is affected, the matching joint will be, too, as in my case.  The rheumatoid factor never did show up in my blood, but I developed rheumatoid nodules—one on each forearm.

I further learned that when RA comes upon a person suddenly, as it did with me, it will often disappear after a time.  In such cases it can reappear about three years later.  My symptoms gradually went away, and because of Elder Redd’s blessing, I never expected them to come back—which they never did.

My personal diagnosis of the problem is that I traumatized my joints and my body with that absolutely exhausting hike, the back injury the next morning, the cliff scaling, and the 16-mile hike to quickly get back home again.  My immune system got confused, and my body started attacking itself.

My RA was a difficult trial, but a huge blessing in many respects.  After this passage of time I can see where the episode was a blessing for Matt who had to take over operation of the farm.  He learned a great deal, and got more done than if I’d been managing things myself.

RA got me out of the cattle business.  I sold them at the market peak.  That was a blessing.  The ranch had reached a point where I was no longer making financial headway, and was losing ground.  That was followed by several years of depressed cattle prices.  Cattle prices have now cycled to an all-time high, and I wish I had them back again.  I loved my cows.

But getting rid of my cattle positioned me to help Nathan start a cabinet shop and woodworking business.  That business supported us for a decade and was a blessing to him and to me.  Through that business Nathan found his wife.  It wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

I wouldn’t have missed these experiences for anything.  I’m glad they all happened.  Perhaps most of all I appreciate the humble blessing that Elder Redd gave me.  It was given by the Spirit, and everything took place just as the blessing said that it would.

Now, 15 years later, I’ve just endured another mobility problem.  This was another leg affliction which necessitated the sale of the cabinet shop, and culminated in a hip replacement operation.  I’m perfectly recovered now, but I’m unemployed again and again asking myself, “What does the Lord have in mind for me now?”

I’ve learned that the Lord gives us trials to school us and see how we’ll handle them.  I maintain that our biggest trials are intended to become our biggest blessings if we handle them right.  Lehi told his son, Jacob, in 2 Nephi 2:2 that the Lord “shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain,” (and I add poetically, “if we resist the urge to complain.”)