Today, February 22, is my sister, Darcy's 44th birthday. We used to always say that there was something special about that number. We are both born on the 22nd. I am in January, she is one month later, but 4 years ahead. (2+2. Ok, we were kids when we thought that up.) I don't think we could have ever imagined at that age, how things would turn out in our adult years. We never expected her life to end at such a young age, or for her to have the problems that she did. Lupus was terrible on her body.
I will never forget the day Chris and Phil got married. We were in the Salt Lake Temple, and as I walked over to hug Darcy, I looked down at her hands. They were a dark blue color. I chuckled, and asked her if she had been dying levi's. She just smiled and said, "No. My lungs aren't working very well, and I don't have enough oxygen in my body". I was stunned. I didn't know that a body could be that blue.
After the ceremony, she really needed a little girl's room. Apparently, she was on a diuretic to reduce swelling, and she needed to find somewhere, fast. As we were being led back out of the temple, she saw a dressing room, and turned to tell us she would be right back. The matron guiding us said we were leaving, and she needed to go the other way. Darcy explained her situation, and insisted she would be right out as she started to walk into the dressing room. The matron ran over to her and said, "Sister, you can't go in there, that's a men's dressing room." As pale as she was, she blushed and apologized, and quickly ran back out as we all tried not to laugh in the temple.
When we were really little, I was probably 4 or 5, Darcy and I used to share a bed. She used to tease me every night. One night, I was tired, and she wouldn't stop talking. Suddenly, she said, "I bet you can't bite me and make me bleed." I turned to her and said, "Of course, I can." She said that I was too little, and my teeth were baby teeth. There was no way I could ever bite her hard enough to hurt her. I was totally insulted. I may be little, but I was not weak. I explained how sharp my teeth were, and that it would hurt her really bad. She continued to insist that she was bigger and stronger, and that I was just a little kid. I rolled over and tried to ignore her.
This escalated the situation, because she couldn't stand that she wasn't getting to me. She insisted I try to bite her arm. I told her I couldn't do that, I would get in trouble. She said she wouldn't tell. I told her that I could make her bleed, and she would get mad. I laid down and closed my eyes. "Come on, bite me." She kept prodding me, "Just do it. Go on, it won't hurt me. I'm tough."
She harassed me all night long, or at least for about 5 minutes or so. Time lasts forever to kids. Finally, I had had enough. I opened my eyes, and her arm was right in front of my face. I grabbed it and bit down hard. I still remember what that felt like. I can't see a vampire movie without remembering it. There was a sudden blood curdling scream. I looked down, and saw a red imprint of my teeth on her forearm, and 2 little marks that were barely bleeding. I have never seen her move so fast. She practically flew up the stairs screaming for Mom all the way.
"This is it," I thought. "I'm in big trouble, now." I waited nervously in my bed to await my punishment. This was gonna be bad, I could feel it. There was no way in the world that my Mom would believe that Darcy told me to bite her. After a couple of minutes, I heard my Mom coming down the stairs. "Here it comes." I thought. "I'm going to be grounded until I'm old, like 30, or something."
My mom came and sat on the bed next to me. She asked me to explain what happened, and I said, "She told me to do it." Her response was, "I hardly think that she wanted you to bite her." "Yes, she did!" I replied. I explained the whole story. Mom thought for a moment, and then said, "Do you always do what people tell you to do? If someone told you to jump off of a cliff, would you do it?" How stupid did she think I was? "No." "Well, next time someone tells you to do something that isn't a good idea, don't give in." Was I really off the hook that easily? I could swear that Mom was trying not to giggle all the way back up the stairs.
Darcy came back down a few minutes later, tear streaks on her cheeks. She was still trying to settle down. She was sniffing, and breathing unevenly. There was a damp washcloth that she was holding to her arm, and she wouldn't look at me. She slowly climbed into bed, attempted to cover herself up with her "injured" hand, and continued to try NOT to cry. My only defense was, "You told me to do it."
Darcy was always very proper. She didn't like to do things that made her look silly. At one point, she was in intensive care at U of U hospital. This was before either of her transplants. She was there for observation, and was joking about the nurse's reactions when she came to check herself into intensive care. (Not something that happens everyday.)
Doug and I went to visit her, and while we were there, Reed showed up as well. They were divorced by then, and she told us after he left how surprised she was that he came to see her. While we were all there, talking, Darcy decided that her bed needed to be raised so she could sit up more comfortably. She picked up the controller, and hit the button to raise the bed. As the bed was moving, it caught on some of the cords to all of the equipment. She was unplugged. All kinds of beeping started going off, and she started laughing.
Suddenly, she pretended to be flopping all over the bed like she was dying. Very out of character. We were all laughing with her as she continued to flop and moan, when a nurse walked into the room. The three of us suddenly stopped laughing, but Darcy did not see her. She continued in her death throws. The nurse walked over to her bed, trying to figure out what was going on, when Darcy suddenly caught a glimpse of her. Immediately, Darcy became serious, and said, "Oh. Sorry. I came unplugged." The nurse reattached everything, and left the room.
There was an immediate burst of laughter from all four of us. We laughed until we cried. I was glad that she could see the brighter side of things.
Darcy always thought that she should be my protector and my teacher. She did teach me many things, and we had some really good times. I remember coming home from school one day and Darcy had covered my bedroom door in hearts for Valentines day. She bought me a shirt that could glow in the dark, which sparked a new game for me and Trina. Trina had a glow in the dark Supergirl shirt, so we started playing "Glow in the dark-hide and seek". Darcy loved to get in on that one. She would jump out and scare us in the dark.
She was a good big sister at school. I remember my first time eating in the lunchroom in first grade. Darcy was in 5th grade, and called me over so I could sit by her and all of her friends to eat. I thought she was so cool. She tried to teach me how to twirl a flag. (I got much better at it later on.) She taught me to love the music of Amy Grant. I think of Darcy every time I hear her. I remember singing with her at the piano. I loved to hear her play the flute. I remember my first activity in Young Women's. We went sledding, and someone came down the hill on a giant tube. They ran into the bonfire we had going, narrowly missing my sister. One other girl was knocked in, but got out quickly enough that no serious damage was done. I remember thinking, "That could have been Darcy. What would I do if anything happened to her?"
The last time we were together, she mentioned that the one good thing about her lung transplant was that the anti-rejection medication she took prevented any symptoms of Lupus from bothering her. Talk about seeing the bright side of things. She definitely had a temper growing up, but life changed her attitude about the world. She wanted so much to help others. I admire that, and hope that someday I can be to others, what she was to me.
He got the name "Boog" because he reminded us of the bear in "Open Season", but he looked like the racoon in "Over The Hedge". He was such a cutie. Doug gave him to me for Christmas last year. Here is the strange part: Miriam and I are terribly allergic to dogs. We don't seem to have as much of a problem when they are puppies, and some breeds are better than others. Years ago we had a miniature American Eskimo that I just adored. I still miss him. He was an arctic breed, and they don't have as much oil on their skin or fur which makes them easier to tolerate. That was the idea behind Boog. He was a pomeranian, like a little ball of fur. It didn't work. When he was about 8 weeks old, the itching and sneezing and watery eyes kicked in. We had to sell him. Miriam and Doug are still heart-broken.
This is my cute sister, Trina, with 2 of her boys, Jayden and Bridger. I am not sure they really understood what we were doing there, and what they were seeing, but I think they still had fun.
Wouldn't you just love to have that on your bedroom ceiling, and wake up to it every morning? I feel so blessed to live in a time where these buildings are becoming so prolific. In just a few more months, we will have the opportunity to attend the Oquirrh Hills Temple open house. Even as a child growing up in this state, I never dreamed we would need so many temples. It is wonderful to be driving at night, and see a temple all lit up. They are so beautiful, and you can see them for miles. 
