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Pops in Picture

This is the man the day he had all of that chest discomfort. You know, I was thinking later, what if he had gone to the game with me? He would have walked up all those stairs, possibly had a real heart attack, and then after that explosion we would have been on lock down, making it impossible to get him out of there. Another illustration of God's providence.


This is Dad the night before surgery, watching his monitors with Amy. The doctor told us if he had waited until his scheduled appointment on Thursday, that means he wouldn't have been in surgery until Monday, and he most likely wouldn't have made it. Thank God my uncle Fenton is a doctor and he had some pull with this doctor. God's providence.


Mom and Dad minutes before surgery. Side note, anytime a new nurse or doctor would walk in, my dad would say, "My wife wants to know when we can have sex again." Just an illustration of my fathers sense of humor. Purely innocent I assure you.



This is Dad TWO DAYS after a quintuple bypass, offering goodies to all the nurses and patients on his hall. (Google quintuple bypass.)



Dad, Amy (my sister), and Carter (my brother). What a handsome crew.

Popsicle Head & Della Dawn

This is my dad, who I sometimes affectionately call Popsicle Head. This past Saturday, my father had thirty minutes of chest pains and didn't say a word about it to anyone until it was over. I'm sure he had logical reasons as to why he didn't want to tell my mom because he knew she would panic, or why he wouldn't tell me why he was skipping out on the football game, but he still wanted me to go and have a good time. He may have been looking out for our best interests, but I am still frustrated with him.

I think that like me, my dad is scared. Both of his parents died in their sixties from heart attacks, and he is 64. His younger brother has already had two major heart attacks and open-heart surgery, and his brother has had procedures done to prevent his already clogged arteries from getting worse. He is by far the healthiest among the men in the family, but this episode I'm sure has him nervous. And apparently this isn't the first time this has happened, the family decided not to tell me about the others until now. (I'm still a little bitter.)

I talked with him for about an hour today about all the tests they have run and will run over the next couple of days. A lot of it is medical jargon that both he and I don't understand. He was bragging on his doctors though, so I'm convinced he is in good hands. Mom is going with him tomorrow to Baptist Hospital in Oklahoma City, where he will spend most of the day. (My uncle Fenton is a doctor there, which makes me feel better.) There are going to put another stint (I think) into a major artery in his groin area, where they will put dye into his blood stream and take pictures. This will determine whether or not he will need work done to open up clogged areas around the heart. If he does need cleaning or unblocking, they will go ahead and do it tomorrow. He says he won't have to stay overnight most likely. I will probably take off work and go up there for a few hours. Please be praying for him, the doctors, my mom, and the rest of family.

I know there a few of you who know what either losing parents is like or the threatening idea of it. It is such a strange feeling. I have mostly been thinking about our relationship, the things I enjoy and the things I would like to change. The fun times we have in Michigan, on the golf course, working on my house, or watching Seinfeld. I love my father’s infectious laugh and the way he eats tomatoes like apples. It bugs me, but I laugh when he always wants me to "take my shoes off and relax". He stresses me out when he asks, "Are you going to go out like that" after I have spent an hour in the bathroom getting ready. I love his Chevy Chase sense of humor, his love for westerns, and his guilty pleasure of Lifetime-TV-for-women-made-for-TV-movies. His theology makes me angry and his love for money infuriates me. But I'm proud of his sense of tradition and commitment to his family. I love that he quit drinking because he loves me. I love that he stops by my house just to see if I want to go to lunch. I love that he tells me never to get married but to take care of him for the rest of my life (not his). I love my father. Even if he is crazy Mr. Sanger.

Saturday Night

Well most of you know what happened Saturday night at the OU game. A young man took his own life outside the stadium during the second quarter. He had built some type of bomb, and while sitting on a bench in the south oval, 20 feet away from Jonathan's bike and my bike, he blew himself up.

Jonathan and I were sitting in the north-west corner of the stadium when we heard the thunderous boom. Concerned, we contemplated the cause of the noise. Thirty minutes to an hour later I got a call from my friend Clark who was working at the Corner Market, saying that he was told there had been an accident with a propane tank. This made sense at the time; there were a considerable amount of tailgaters around the stadium. It wasn't until after we were directed around the stadium to Lindsey street when we heard an awful rumor that it hadn't been an accident at all. A young women on a cell phone was explaining to a friend that "some kid strapped a bomb to himself and blew himself up". Jonathan and I looked at each other thinking, "who is this lady? You don't just go spreading stupid rumors like that around. That's awful."

It wasn't until we walked back to my house and saw on the television that her sick rumor was actually the truth. As we sat there, a map of campus (our campus, that we walk on everyday, in my hometown, not three blocks from my house) was on TV. "We have reason to believe that an individual has used a bomb to commit suicide in the south oval here at OU, outside of the George Lynn Cross building. It is not clear whether or not this individual was involved in an international terrorist circuit. But officials are assuring us that there is no immediate danger to any of the football fans out here tonight." My heart started to race. That feeling of confusion and sadness. I had the sudden urge to burst into tears. I was able to hold back my feelings somewhat; every once in a while letting out a curse or a swear. I did manage to exclaim, "Jonathan, our bikes are right there, they are parked outside Cross." I spent the rest of the night staring at the television, in a daze, wanting more information, calling my dad for emotional support.

I think I am still in a daze. I really can't believe it happened. After church today, I went to the south oval hoping to retrieve my bike. The fire department, the head of Homeland Security for the state of Oklahoma, and multiple news crews were there. As I walked up, my bike was being washed clean by the power of firehose. The blood and human remains was being removed. I was escorted closer to my new cruiser, with explainations spinning around in my head, and news crews getting closer for a listen. I again felt very sad. I did a couple of interviews, called Jonathan several times, and finally made my way out of the scene.

I just recently recieved the link to one of my interviews. www.player58.com , I am the second video down. I look very disturbed. They cut me off before I got to the part where I express my gratitude to the OUPD for handling the situation the way that they did. I can't imagine how it would have been if we had been evacuated. There would have been extreme panic and chaos. So I look like a complete ass, I really am grateful.

Please pray for healing here at OU.