Category Archives: Family History

Tonsillectomy: Mission to My Mouth – Aftermath

So the week was hard.  I came home from the hospital in some discomfort, but not anything unbearable. Just the knowledge that something had really been trashed in the back of my mouth. (It took me a couple of days before I even wanted to get a flashlight and look back there.)  I settled in to bed and tried to just sleep through the discomfort.

As the anesthetic from the hospital wore off, the pain started to get a little more intense.  Kathleen went out right away to get my prescriptions, but it took a couple of hours since there were four to fill and the pharmacy is about 20 minutes away.  I was getting pretty uncomfortable by the time she got back with the pills.

I was given four (eventually five) prescriptions:

  • Demerol, for pain.  This turned out to be a little bit weaker than I needed, and may have been the reason I didn’t get as much to eat and drink early.  It just didn’t seem to do much for the pain.
  • An anti-nausea medication, to take with the Demerol. I was scared to death of vomiting with all the damage in the back of my throat. Luckily, this was not a problem.
  • Prednisone, for inflammation.  This actually really seemed to help. I iced my throat too, which eased my discomfort somewhat.
  • Keflex, to prevent infection. I’m still taking this.
  • Lortab – when the Demerol started to run low, I called in for another painkiller prescription.  I thought they’d give me more Demerol, but they went with Lortab instead.  This turned out to be a good thing; the Lortab worked much better at taking the edge off the pain so I could eat.

As of today, I’ve lost about fourteen pounds. It’s kind of a combination of nothing being appetizing, and everything being really painful to swallow.  I had the weight to lose, really; I’ve been getting kind of fat in my old age.  This took me from 190 to about 174, which is better for my size (I’m 5’9”, with a kind of skinny frame anyway).  That’s not the healthiest way to lose weight, but hey, I’ll take it.

The foods that worked for me were tuna sandwiches, gummy worms (you can get sugar-free energy chew here), applesauce, and otterpops.  Last night, I begged Kathleen to run to Taco Bell and get me a Baja Gordita (also a Baja Chalupa, as backup).  It stung a little bit going down, but it was so nice to eat something tasty.

So the past nine days are kind of a mélange of grumpiness, hunger, pain, and boredom.  However, I find myself breathing through my nose more comfortably already (the doctor went ahead and took my adenoids as well).  If I have any improvement in the number of throat infections this next year, I’ll call it a win.  I had eight throat infections over the last twelve months.

That’s the summary for now.  I’ll post more when I have my post-op appointment with the otolaryngologist.

Paying Attention

Note: I know it’s probably a little gauche to blog so soon after an event like this.  However, I want to get my feelings sorted out and writing is a good method.  Might as well update everyone while I’m at it.

I left the house this morning in a somewhat grumpy rush.  Often I’ll forget my morning prayers during my usual routine, so I’ll pray in the car before I pull out.  I was in enough of a rush this morning that I only really prayed for two things; that I’d be safe and my children would be safe as we traveled about today.

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For some reason, my attention wandered and I did not see that the light was red.  We got hit on the driver’s side, smacked a pole on the passenger side, and wound up where you see us.  As we were smashed from side to side, I was calm; I’m generally calm enough when these things happen, but I felt for some reason that things were fine.  I had reason to doubt when we saw the children.

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Joyful Day

Six years ago yesterday Kathleen and I checked into the hospital expecting to have a kid.  As the day went on, we waited for our boy to come.  Well, he was a stubborn kid.  I took this picture out the window as the sun was setting:

Well, it was early the next morning before Isaac got here.  I’m sure many of you know the instant love and joy that you feel when a new child is born.  This was the first time I felt it, and while I feel the same when each child is born, it’s always as if it’s the first time.

Here’s the boy and his mom:

What a great day.  It felt like we were finally a family. 

So Long, Jack

We know when we get a kitten that they don’t live very long.  I’ve always told myself that they’ve come here to Earth, and we get a chance to give them lives of comfort, safety and love. 

Little Jack was a “free kittens” ad in the newspaper.  I went to see the kittens, and they had two; one black, and one calico.  I couldn’t decide, so I took them both.  The black male I named Cracker Jack (usually just Jack) and the calico female I named Sweet Anne-Marie (usually just Marie).  The little chickens spent their whole first day hiding in the closet. 

When Marie was killed by a car, Jack was my little furry comforter. 

Jack was definitely my cat; he’d sleep with me in the bed.  He would always come when I called.  He was the strangest little animal; he loved to play with pants you’d leave on the floor, shooting through the pant legs.  He’d always get into boxes of packing peanuts and make a huge mess.  He would perch in high places and swat at your head. 

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Jack had an easy purr; he’d always be glad for me to scratch his ears.  He’d let me play rough with him, rolling him around and tickling his belly.

Tonight after work Jack was just lying on the floor in the sun room.  He’d been losing weight, but today he felt like just skin and bones.  I got out some of his favorite wet cat food, but he wouldn’t take any.

I had to take him to a vet in Sevierville because there were none open closer.  After ruling out FIV, the vet did X-rays and blood work.  The X-ray showed so much fluid in his lungs that it was a wonder he was still breathing.  When the blood work came back, it showed his liver had failed as well.  The only real choice was to let him go.

While we were waiting, I held him and petted him.  He showed no anxiety and just seemed content to be with me.  He purred, in spite of the condition of his lungs.  He purred right up to the end.

We have a short time with our little friends.  I wouldn’t trade any of the sorrow and hurt I feel right now for the great friendship I had with my little furry buddy.  Between the sorrow and the loss I feel gratitude for such a good cat.  I’ll miss him terribly for a while, but I have it on good authority that the Grace of our Savior heals even these hurts.  After the sorrow of this life, even in the middle of it, there is hope “smiling brightly before us”. 

So long, Jack.  You were the best cat a man could have.

Know Your Roots

Yesterday I was on my way home to Knoxville from visiting family in Northwest Ohio.  I figured I’d take a detour and try to find the origin of my Cochran ancestors.  The first record I’ve been able to find of any Cochrans puts a James and John Cochran in cabins in what would become Higginsport in 1819, when a Stephan Colvin moved in.

There’s a stream north of the town named Cochran Run.  It’s not much to look at.

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James Ziba Cochran, the first recorded Cochran in our family tree, was born in Higginsport in 1824.  His son, James Mason Cochran, was born in the same town in 1854.  Sometime after that they pulled up stakes and moved west. 

I stopped at the cemetery in Higginsport to see if I could find any other ancestors.  It was in shoddy repair; gravestones toppled and illegible, many markers destroyed.  I looked at every single stone I could find to see if any of our people were there.  They might be; there are many unmarked graves and many with just a small, square, marble marker with a number on it.  There was no sexton to ask and no parking except at a home business (a trailer with a crude “bait shop” sign) next door.

I’m not holding my camera funny; everything really was slanted.

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I asked at the people at the bait shop if they knew anyone named Cochran.  The man there said he used to mow lawns at the cemetery in Felicity, and that there were lots of Cochrans there.  It was a dead end; there were a few kind of similar names, but no Cochrans.

I had hoped to stop in Maysville, Kentucky, just across the river, to find another ancestor.  By the time I got there, it was getting late in the day and I had to head for home.  The cemetery there is much larger and in better repair, so I think I could call ahead and have someone to direct me.

Zach at 33

On my birthday I’ll take some time to be a little self-indulgent and describe myself and some of the ways I’ve changed. 

I’m a bit plumper than I once was.  I’m about 185 lbs these days, where just a few years ago I was 155.  My hair is receding just a bit, but it’s at an awkward in-between place and has been for a couple of years. 

I’m still a Mormon boy, true blue, dyed in the wool, through and through.  I’m not always very good at it, but that’s what I am, and that’s what I’ll stay.

I’m still a little bit cranky, especially when I feel like my living space is out of sorts.  More than ever, I like things a certain way.  This causes friction for visitors, and I try to be less particular (without much success).  Outside of my own “cave”, I’m more sociable.  I have a decent sense of humor when used appropriately and generally have no trouble making friends and getting along with people. 

I still play the piano and guitar.  I left my grandfather’s accordion with my parents in Utah and I sold my trumpet a long time ago.  I have experimented with composition on the computer, but it’s not serious and just for fun.  I don’t take time to write music seriously anymore. 

I like the Colts, Cougars, Vols, and Jazz.  I hate the Utes, Gators, and Lakers.

I was a lot more physically active last year.  I climbed Mt. Nebo, Provo Peak, and Deseret Peak for the first time.  Now that I’m in Tennessee, all the mountains seem too small and climbing them is less interesting.  They are pretty, though.

I still love gadgets, but not so obsessively.  We have three Roombas of various types; one sweeps, one vacuums, and one mops.  I got a Kindle for Christmas.  I carry a BlackBerry, but work pays for it.  My mp3 player is an old brown Zune; haven’t found a pressing reason to upgrade it.  I’ve had the same digital camera for about 4 years now.  We don’t have an HDTV, but we’ve had DVRs of some sort or another for at least 7 years.  I have 4 computers; my main computer, running Windows 7; my work computer, which runs Windows XP; my netbook, which runs whatever version of Windows or Linux I’m in the mood for, and my “other” computer, running Ubuntu.  My main computer’s processor is about 4 generations old, and the graphics card is about 3 generations old. I guess the point is I’m a bit more discriminating about my technology and waste less money on it.

I love all kinds of music.  I have a penchant to really love melancholy songs, such as “This is Just a Modern Rock Song” by Belle & Sebastian, “Over Yonder” by Steve Earle, “Word on a Wing” by David Bowie, “Miami” by Counting Crows, “I Wish it Would Rain” by the Temptations, “Take it Back” by Pink Floyd, “Hearts and Bones” by Paul Simon, “Sleeping In” by the Postal Service, “Fast Train” by Solomon Burke, “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin. 

I like upbeat songs too, especially rock and blues (and alt-country/bluegrass, surprisingly): “Sitting on Top of the World”, especially the Cream and Carl Perkins versions, “Sukie in the Graveyard” by Belle & Sebastian, “Sugar Magnolia” by the Grateful Dead, “Gone Gone Gone” by Carl Jackson and Emmylou Harris, “Dreamin’" by Weezer, “99 in the Shade” by Bon Jovi.

I love to read history, especially military history.  Sometimes details or individuals make a great impact on my mind and remain with me.  Most recent have been histories on the 6 Days War and the Yom Kippur War.  I like Paul Johnson’s work too.

I love fiction, when it “has a price”.  My favorite book this past year was Suttree by Cormac McCarthy, which is coincidental since it’s set in Knoxville.  I also still love epic fantasy when it’s well done.  Robert Jordan was the best world-builder with his Wheel of Time, and Brandon Sanderson is carrying that work on fairly well.  George R. R. Martin is the best for plot and very good with characters, too; try his Song of Ice and Fire.  I recently enjoyed Anathem by Neal Stephenson.  I’d also recommend the Hyperion tetralogy by Dan Simmons for my SciFi friends.  I enjoy Jack Vance for his precision of language and excellent stories.  I love John LeCarre, especially The Night Manager, Little Drummer Girl, and all the Smiley books.  I read All the King’s Men this last year, by Robert Penn Warren.  It was heartbreaking and amazing.  He paints a vivid picture, but he also exposes emotion brilliantly. 

I like to read about culture and its decline, too.  Most recently, Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neal Postman.  My favorite authors on culture are Victor Davis Hansen, Theodore Dalrymple, and James Bowman. 

My favorite TV shows: House, Top Gear, How It’s Made, South Park, Futurama, The Office, American Idol, Parks and Recreation.  Mostly Top Gear.  All other TV is terrible by comparison.  Even if you don’t care about cars, it’s great television.  And if you do like cars, it’s Nirvana.

I’m still indifferent to most movies, though I did finally watch “Once Upon a Time in the West” and “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” this past year and was amazed at the perfection of acting, cinematography, and score for each.  I don’t mean to be a curmudgeon, but most movies today are crap.

Blogs I follow:  Engadget, Big Government, Big Hollywood, Michelle Malkin, Camille Paglia, Jay Nordlinger, Michael J. Totten, James Bowman, Gizmodo, WhichTestWon, Lifehacker, People of Walmart, Art of Manliness, ty.rannosaur.us, mental_floss, Bleat, Autoblog, FAILblog, Claremont, Michael Yon.  Honorable mention to James Taranto and Best of the Web Today, which no longer has an RSS feed but which is the most pithy thing I read in any day.

My blogs (all infrequently updated): Virtute.org, Modstomp.com, slingandstones.org.

Podcasts I listen to: Radio Derb, History of Rome, History Network: Military, BYU: New Speeches, BYU: Classic Speeches, Mark Levin.

I read stories to Isaac and Charlotte every night, and often I get to tuck Nicole in too.  I spend a lot of time with Ila when I can so Kathleen can have her hands free.  I feel just a little nuts: we have 4 children, all 5 years old and younger.  This is a hard thing now, but it will be a good thing soon.  With them close together we can do more as a family and hopefully they’ll bond together really well.  I’m pretty sure we’re not done at 4.  The world needs more Cochrans.

Well, I think that sums me up as much as a blog post can. Happy New Year, everybody.

Happy Thanksgiving

For all our struggles and trials, we have so many things for which to thanks our Maker.  I love the WSJ editorial today, recounting the trials of the Plymouth colony.  Our ancestors were sturdy souls.  Here are a few things I’m grateful for:

  • I have a great job.  I work with a great group of people for an interesting company in interesting times.  I am challenged each day, but I enjoy the work.  I’m finally doing the type of work I begged Omniture to let me do, and I’m finding I’m very good at it.  The pay is much better than Omniture as well, which is badly needed with a new baby on the way.
  • I have bright and curious children.  It’s a blessing to have kids who are interested in many things, who can stare wide-eyed at a simple crow in the yard or be amazed by a book about fossils.  I love each one of them.
  • My wife of nearly 10 years sticks with me, in spite of all my faults.  She’s thoughtful and kind and works hard every day.  She’s suffering exhaustion and discomfort to bring another child into the world, for which I’m more than grateful.
  • Tennessee is a beautiful state.  While no place is perfect, this is a good place for our family right now.  I love watching the mist on the rivers I cross when I drive to work in the morning.  I love the sunsets.  I love the wonderful Tennessee accent and the kindness of the people.
  • I am thankful for the chance to work closely with the missionaries.  I loved my mission, and it’s wonderful to help teach.  It makes my faith stronger and blesses my life. 
  • I’m thankful for my family.  I don’t think we took for granted having them so close for so long; we knew exactly how great it was.  I bought a cheeseball at the store the other day and caught myself thinking I could have my family over to eat it.  I’m also thankful for all the technology that makes the 1900 miles seem less.

Here are a few more things I’m thankful for with links to deeper thoughts where appropriate:

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

The Second Drive, or “Orem to Knoxville in 27 Hours”

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Get a good night’s sleep.  Pack a lot of caffeine.  Bring all the sessions of General Conference and a couple of Robert Jordan books to listen to.  Bring food, water, and extra newspaper for the cats.  That was the plan, and for the most part, it worked out well.  After 1900 miles of driving, I found myself in a new house, far from home, and completely depleted mentally, physically, and emotionally.

After two weeks, it’s faded a little bit and blurred together.  I headed out from Orem and up Provo Canyon, through Heber, and up onto I-80.  When I’m driving by myself, I can drive pretty hard, not stopping much, and that’s what I like to do.  Here’s the view in back:

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Cats, some clothes, and everything the movers wouldn’t take.  I headed out across Wyoming.  A lot of people tell me they dislike the drive, but I enjoy it.  I like views like this one:

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I wasn’t too far into Nebraska before it got dark.  I left I-80 in Lincoln and skirted east and into Iowa, where I hit I-29 and went south.  I passed Mound City in the dark; I didn’t have time to stop and check for Lamanites.  I passed around Kansas City through Independence, and onto I-70. 

About this time, I thought about sleeping, but the cats were getting upset.  Late night is their play time, and they wanted to get out and be free.  They were scared and sad.  Their unhappy meowing meant no sleep for me, so I grabbed another energy drink and kept driving.

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My GPS suggested I cut off on I-64 into St. Louis, which would have been a great shortcut, except it was closed.  After a little route-finding, I made it over the bridge and into Illinois.  Sunrise that next morning:

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I-64, I-57, I-24.  Then a jump over the Ohio River, and into Kentucky.

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The drive through Kentucky was beautiful.  It was a sunny day, with leaves changing all around.  Can you see the extra day’s beard growth?

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Soon I crossed the Cumberland River and was in Nashville:

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Here I grabbed I-40, which is my new “home freeway”, the way I-15 was to me growing up.

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Almost to my new home:

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I left about 10 in the morning Mountain Time, and arrived at about 3 in the afternoon Eastern Time that next day. 

That night, after I had the van unloaded and the cats settled, I went over to Rick and Dee’s for dinner.  I was kind of a bad guest, I’m sure; I was weird and tired and wound up all at once.  After dinner I found myself in a state of emotional disarray.  I think the exhaustion and the caffeine combined with loneliness and homesickness to really smash me.  All the uncertainty piled up on me at once; alone on my air mattress on the floor, with no family, no TV, no internet, none of my usual outlets.  I read from the New Testament, called Kathleen, and finally fell asleep.

The next day, I felt better.

Leaving the Cradle

This weekend I’ll be driving to Knoxville, Tennessee.  I’ll be starting a new job, finding a new home, and making a new start. 

I have mixed feelings about this change.  I’m a Utah boy; I’ve sweated my way to the tops of the mountains, raced up and down the canyons, listened to the wind blowing over the deserts, and knelt in the temples.  I’ve raged at the lingering winters and rejoiced in the lingering autumns.  I sat on a hill in the first green of spring and watched rainstorms blow across the lake.  In summer, I’ve baked happily in the dry furnace heat.

Utah was the base for my adventures.  I’ve taken the roads in all directions.  In old station wagons I’ve spiraled out to all the great Western cities and down the whole length of the Pacific coast.  I’ve seen the Sangre de Cristo mountains and driven up Going-to-the-Sun Road.  All these wonders are only a hard day’s drive from the cradle.

I can’t count the times I’ve come home over one of the passes to the sea of warm lights nestled in the valley by the lake.  Every wanderer loves the trail home.

I tried once before to start fresh in a new place.  After Superdell fired me, I went to Ohio and tried to sell computers.  After six miserable months, I came home in worse shape than before.  This time, I’m going on my own terms.  I have a job at a good company.  I have skills and experience.

My ancestors gathered to Utah to build Zion.  From this cradle of strength, maybe it’s only fitting we go back out to bring Zion to the rest of the world.

9 Strange Years

It wasn’t what I was expecting.  I’d just broken off a relationship with an interesting but insane girl from Ukraine, and I was not really in a mood to be serious.  I decided I was going to date the next fairly normal American girl I met, and behold, there was a young Kathleen.  A Mormon girl at BYU, from the boring mid-west, and seemingly pretty nice.  After 11 days of dating, we were engaged.  4 months later, we were married.  We’d known each other less than 6 months.  And here we are 9 years later.

In that time, I’ve had 6 jobs and started 2 companies (it sounds less stable than it was).  We’ve had 3 children, each one stranger in new and interesting ways.  We’ve moved three times: from our home in Springville to Ohio, back to our Springville home, than back to good old Orem, my home town.  We’ve had 5 cats, 3 of them still with us.  We’ve also had mice, rats, a hamster, and 3 tarantulas (one still with us).  We’ve gone through 7 cars; 2 Japanese, 4 American, and 1 German.  We’ve driven to both the east and west coasts.

We’ve learned an awful lot.  Utah folks forget how different we are; I was 23 and Kathleen was 21 when we were married.  That’s pretty weird in a world that seems to celebrate perpetual adolescence, but it’s nothing unusual here.  The point is, 23 is awfully young, and I had to grow up pretty quickly.  I wasn’t even employed when we were married (I lost my job during a bout of mono).  Things haven’t always been easy.  At one point, we sold nearly all our possessions to pay our bills when one of my businesses foundered.  We both worked graveyard shifts for about a year after that as we caught back up.

Even in our struggles, life has been sweet.  While this life isn’t exactly what I would have expected, Kathleen has made it far better than I could have hoped.  9 years isn’t any particular milestone, but I’m grateful for every one of them.

Family Squabbles

This needs to stop.  I haven’t heard one assumption tonight that’s anywhere close to true.  I’m sick to death of the gulf between my siblings and the ridiculous ideas that widen it.

Everyone is hurt.  Everyone is oversensitive to the slightest rumor.  Everyone judges too quickly and too often.  I’m not excluding myself.

I challenge each of my siblings to write five genuine, honest, true, kind things about each other sibling over the next week or so. 

It’s 1 AM here, so I’ll start my lists tomorrow.

67 Years Ago

At certain times of year I’m often preoccupied about people or places in my past.  In the very early spring (and sometimes winter), I have very specific memories of Asbury Park, NJ.  In the hot summers, I think about Camden and Bordentown NJ.  As August winds down to fall, I think about Glacier National Park, a particular rest stop on I-84 in Oregon, and Penndel, PA.

Times of year have me thinking about people, too.  I remember my grandparents all the time, but I especially think of my mom’s dad in August and my dad’s dad in early December.

Today is December 7th, Pearl Harbor Day.  For my family, that’s an auspicious day.  My grandfather was serving as a Boatswain’s Mate on the USS Nevada that morning.  The story actually has him in the shower at 7:48 AM local, which resulted in him fighting the first wave with just a towel.  In spite of hits from six bombs (at least) and a torpedo, only 60 men were killed. 

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One random bomb hit resulted in boatswain’s whistles being scattered across the deck, of which my grandfather collected Boatswain's whistleseveral.  I’m not sure who has them these days, but they’re among my aunts and uncles somewhere.

During the attack, he made at least one run under fire forward to the anchor lines to assist in getting the ship under way.  The Nevada was the only battleship able to get underway that morning.  She was still heavily damaged, and my grandfather was transferred to the USS Indianapolis to escort a convoy to Melbourne shortly after, thus missing the Battle of Guadalcanal.  From there, it was on to Adak to pilot crash boats for the army, and then back home to the Seattle area.

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I think about these things today, and think about my generation.  We’re a pretty soft bunch; my grandparents fought the great wars of the last century, suffered privation in the Great Depression, and the country’s culture take a turn for the stupid in the 1960s and 1970s.  I worry very much about the pampered and complaining people my age (I’m 31) if we’re faced with crises of similar magnitude.  People have compared December 7th with September 11th.  I kind of laugh about that; after Pearl Harbor, the nation woke up.  After September 11th, nothing changed.  We don’t even know who to fight, and when we do fight, we’re ready to quit within months. 

I hope I’m tough enough; I hope that if we can keep our past in our minds, we can help prepare for challenges in the future.  I hope my children can remember these things, and that it will help them be tough too.

*Family, if you see any points I’ve missed above, don’t hesitate to correct.  I wrote this from my memory, which is not always perfect.