One and Many and Unknown

March 1. One year ago. One little boy. One burned leg. One month in hospital (nearly).

Many chocolates later. Many hours spent praying. Many visits from family and friends.
Many trips back and forth. Many hugs and kisses. Many gifts of love.

March 1. One year later. One mischievous boy. One spoonful of cookie dough. One healed leg.

Surgeries yet to go? Unknown.
Our journey together? Unforgettable.
Little boy's zest for life after-wards? Unmeasurable.

Our thanks? Unfathomable.

Just another day in Walter's life.... cookie dough, drool, and a mischievous grin.

(Please do not ask me to interpret..... I have no idea what he said through all that drool. He was trying to tell me how he fell down and hurt his leg yesterday, but the drool from cookie dough anticipation was drowning his words).

___________________________________________________________________________

Edited: Today I am {unwrapping} the gift of a year of healing
--healing physical and emotional scars.

Medstar: A Service Announcement

Have you bought yourself a Christmas present yet? Maybe you need to find a present for that "impossible-to-buy-for" friend or family member? Well, have I got a deal for you: a membership to {Northwest Medstar}


You see this little magazine I received in the mail last week? Notice how it says "Medstar MEMBER news"? That's right. Our family has a 3-year membership to Northwest Medstar thanks to some good friends who gave us the membership right after Walter was burned. I will keep the membership current until....well until we have no more children at home to get hurt, and a husband that no longer works on large, unpredictable animals. Who knows, maybe by then we won't feel the need to worry about it. By then we will be OLD.

Living in the rural area that we do, having a membership to this lifesaving organization just makes sense. No, they are not paying me. Medstar doesn't even know I am promoting them. But think on this..... a family membership for 1 year is $59. $59 -- that covers everything if you have to be life-flighted to Spokane or Seattle. Just to get a chopper deployed from Spokane down here to pick you up starts around $12,000. Walter's fixed wing flight to Seattle was $22,000. Let's see....$59 or $22,000? I'll take the $59. (A 3-year membership is $150 --even better). So let's do the math -- you could pay $50 for 440 years for the price of one trip to Seattle. Now, I REALLY hope to NEVER cash in on our insurance policy, but at least the peace of mind that being members of Northwest Medstar brings, is worth the $50 a year for me.

The service that Walter received by the Medstar team was wonderful. They are efficient, professional, good at what they do, and friendly to boot. Their partners over on the west side of the state let the boys sit inside one of their helicopters over at Harborview (back before Walter was discharged--Thanks Molly for the pics). They had a blast! I was so thankful for their kindness to the boys and their help to Walter.

So there you have it. The perfect Christmas present. You can visit Northwest Medstar at: http://www.nwmedstar.org/. Happy gifting.

Blame it on the Red Hair

We just returned from a long weekend away -- visiting family and..... Harborview. We had a VERY nice time with Randy's parents and his sisters and their families. I will post more about that later. Right now, all I can think about is Harborview. My heart is heavy and cold from the icy fingers of fearful dread that encircle it. I should have known that Walter would face more surgeries, I SHOULD have known. But, I guess this Mother is overly ostrich optimistic (as in "head in the sand") .....and maybe a little blind to the pessimistic possibilities. I must admit that I HAVE been worried about some of the scarring, but having never been through this before (or ever been familiar with severe skin damage), I was not sure what his skin should look like.

When yet ANOTHER nurse and ANOTHER doctor came into the room to examine Walter's leg, my heart sunk. It REALLY gripes me that we have yet to see the same nurse or doctor on our visits to the burn clinic, and since they do not photograph his leg -- how do they know if it looks better or worse than 3 months ago? Where is the continuity of care? I know better what his leg looked like 3 months ago than they. AND, the doctors hardly even look at his leg, they don't touch him, they scribble a few notes in the chart, ask how it happened that he was burned, and walk out. It makes me feel that our long trip has been worthless. Being that we are veterinarians, we understand being busy, BUT we DO NOT understand being aloof, rude, and seemingly uncaring. ARGHHHH!!!!!! Can you tell I am a little upset? The nurse was kind, did all of the talking, and told us that most likely he would need to have more surgery in a couple of years (when he is old enough to handle it better) -- that is, unless the scarring inhibits his range of motion before then. (Right now he has perfect range of motion.) She told us that next March we will visit the plastics clinic instead of the burn clinic and talk to yet another doctor. AND, she blamed it on the red hair. I guess red-haired individuals tend to make more proliferative scars.

So, I am sorry Walter -- on two counts: 1) that this ever happened to begin with, and 2) that you inherited my red hair and complexion. I'm not sure how I could have changed either circumstance, but I am sorry none the less.

PS -- forgot to explain the photos. Everytime we go to Harborview, the boys look forward to watching helicopters landing and taking off from the parking garage roof. I took the photos with my cell phone, so a little grainy.

Life's Little Surprises

Warning: you may choose not to read this post. I will understand. If you are not familiar with Walter's Story, you can {read about it in reverse chronological order here}.


I have been dreading this for some time now -- the six month mark. I had planned to photograph Walter's boots, sort of my own personal memorial to the past -- write a "6 months ago" post. What I hadn't planned on was the wash of emotions that engulfed me as I opened the box -- the box that Randy had sealed up and put away--where I don't know, and don't really want to know -- the box that contains Walter's boots, what little is left of his jeans, and the crispy, black wisps of skin that Randy found laying on the floor.

What is that terrible screaming? The sort of scream that can only come from extreme terror and pain -- the sort of scream that no parent ever wants to hear in their lifetime -- indescribable, hair raising, piteous, heart-stopping screaming --what nightmares are made of. Who is screaming? Last I knew everyone was inside. The little burn pile had been out over and hour ago and Randy and the boys had all come back inside. But still, someone is outside screaming. I run out of the kitchen and see through the back door Walter standing there trying to open the door. He is screaming -- his pants are on fire. I wrench the door open and snatch him up, tearing at his pants. I think am screaming too -- I don't know, maybe it is just inside my head. Split seconds stretch on to eternity, my shaking fingers cannot manipulate the snap and zipper. My baby is burning! Help me God!


I almost close the box, seal it up, put it away for the rest of eternity -- out of sight.... No, I am bigger than this, I CAN do it. After all, look at Walter. He is healthy and happy -- running around in the back yard chasing Laddie. I gingerly take the boots out of the box and go out in the front yard to photograph the boots. I don't want Walter (or the other boys) to see them. Walter would probably be just fine with them, would probably only get mad because they don't fit him anymore -- but I know two other boys would be upset, and I don't want to stir up anything in Walter either. After clearing a spot in the grass, I take pictures from this way and that -- trying my best to stay as emotionally distant as I can. I am afraid I cannot think about the best composition or lighting, I just need to get done and put them back away. Through the view finder they are just a pair of crumpled, charred boots -- juxtaposition of light and dark, smooth and rough, perfect and ruined, good and bad. Out from behind the camera they are the favorite boots of my little boy -- one perfect, one scarred -- just like my little boy's legs. The visions and emotions that were carefully tucked away in the labyrinth of memories are marching before me, tearing at the carefully, meticulously dammed wall holding back the flood of tears that have just broken loose.

Randy is there, his strong arms engulf the flaming jeans and tear them off -- the boots come off with the jeans. My glasses fly off my face sometime during the frantic scuffle -- I cannot see a thing distinctly but I can see colors-- one leg is normal pink, one leg is blanched white with brown pieces of boot melted on. I am screaming. Go! Go! Go! Superhuman strength propels Randy out the door, to his truck, and 95 mph the 2 miles to the ER. I try to find the phone number for the ER to let them know, but I am shaking so badly I cannot turn the pages of the phone book let alone think alphabetically. I realize Reid and Wyatt have watched in horror the whole scene. They are crying, clinging to each other. I am shaking so uncontrollably that I can barely stand on my feet -- I fold them in my arms and we crumple on the floor as our sobbing mingles together. Oddly enough it is a humorous question from Wyatt that snaps me into my role as mother of four children and not just one. With tears streaming down his face he asks me, "Mom, are they going to put Walter to sleep?" (the horrors that children of veterinarians must face). "No Wyatt, Walter will be OK. They will not put him to sleep. Let's get Nona and go to the hospital and see Walter." I honestly had no idea what lay ahead, but I knew Walter would be OK (at least I hoped).

Randy helps me wrap the boots and put them back in their dark prison. He holds me as the tears flow, washing away the months of imprisoned, hidden away grief. The same hands that were burned by pulling off Walter's flaming jeans and boots, now held me. His hands are healed, you can see no scars. Walter will forever carry the scars of that day on his leg, and we will carry them in our hearts.


You'd think that going through something like this would make me stronger -- and it has, in many ways I am a stronger woman, mother, wife. But in a small niggling way, it has made me weak -- weak with fear. Fear that some other foe is lurking just around the corner to hurt one of my babies and snatch away my precarious sense of security. Life is so precious, so easily changed -- in a heart beat, in a blink of an eye, in the moment that my baby was hurt. I cannot out-guess or control my environment to keep this foe at bay. I can only trust and pray. And although that feels terribly insufficient, what else can I possibly do? Life is full of surprises -- good and bad.

That's a Lie!

"That's not a joke, that's a lie!" declared my 5-yr old to the nice nurse at the Burn Clinic at Harborview. My gut clenches, brain melts, eyes dilate, face reddens. How could my child just have been so rude? I try to explain to the VERY nice nurse where that comment just came from.

In the past couple of weeks, my Wyatt has been saying things such as, "Reid, I broke your....." or "Reid, look there's a ....." and as Reid about bursts a gasket, Wyatt will say, "I was joking!" So, I have given Wyatt several lectures about the difference between lying and joking. Honestly, the line between lying and joking is a little fuzzy sometimes, so I wasn't sure how well I explained it to Wyatt -- nor was I completely sure he had assimilated anything I had said. Thus, when Wyatt blurted out that rude comment, my second thought was, "Well, at least I know he was listening to me."

What was the nurse joking about? (For she was joking not lying). Walter was about to have a skin tag from a sponge deformity cut off of his graft and Wyatt was asking all kinds of questions about it. The nice nurse tried to joke with Wyatt by telling him that they were going to cut off a small piece of skin that Walter didn't need anymore. Then she pointed to Wyatt's left pinky and said, "Just like this -- you don't need this anymore do you? We could cut that off too." Wyatt of course, looked at her like she was an alien, and a scary one to boot. She said, "Oh, I was just joking!" Relief and consternation flooding his face Wyatt blurts, "That's not a joke! That's a lie!" Kids. If you don't have any, you will never understand the mixture of mortification and pride that a mother feels at such a comment from one of her offspring. Mortification, well you can understand the reason for that, but pride? Pride that he actually listened and assimilated what I said (even if he hasn't got it all straight yet), and pride that he can think for himself when put on the spot. Now I just have to teach him that everything his mind thinks, his mouth doesn't have to say. He has time -- I know a lot of adults that haven't mastered that one yet (myself included occasionally).

You might be wondering how Walter's appointment went. It went very well -- brief, but well. The Dr. looked at his leg, cut off the skin tag, and he was out the door to get measured for new burn pants. That kid has done nothing but grow the past 4 months. Hard to believe it has been 4 months! I stayed to discuss several things with the Dr --his nightmares and potty training. She suggested we have a consult with a psychologist about the nightmares and she suggested we wait until he shows more interest in potty training before we push him since his development in that area has probably been delayed. I can handle that -- I kinda felt that way myself, but needed someone else to tell me it was OK. Anyway, all's well. Back to Harborview in 3 months.

S'mores Please

It was all for the love of s'mores. Last weekend, we had an open fire, the first one Walter has been around since he was burned. It was not without much trepidation on my part, but a necessary step on the road to complete recovery. I gave the lecture about how fire is dangerous and we need to be careful and treat it with respect.....multiple times. Yes, Mom. We know, Mom. I think the lecture was more for myself than the kids. I am still a little scared.

But we have boys, and boys want to go camping, so we (I) have to face it sooner than later. Walter was not afraid, nor did he get too close to the fire. He knows exactly what a fire is and that it was a fire that hurt his leg. The pyromaniac (aka Wyatt) treated the fire with good respect and enjoyed his s'mores. The perfectionist (aka Reid) roasted his marshmallows and hot dog to perfection and made sure the rest were careful around the fire.

We had a good evening.
And yes, we left the fire completely out, drowned, smothered, dead.
Period.

Walter Update

You might be wondering how Walter is doing. He is doing great. It has been almost 3 1/2 months since he was burned, 2 1/2 months since we got back home from Harborview. The kid has grown and grown. He can't really wear the first set of burn pants we got. The second pair fit, but just barely. Sometimes he just wears the larger Tubi-grip on his lower leg and we call it good. He is quite comfortable with his "ouchy" as he calls it. He doesn't mind us manipulating his leg, examining it, putting lotion on it. We do our "open and close" ROM exercises when we get dressed and changed. We think his leg is looking wonderful -- the scar is smoothing out some, the inclusions are mostly gone.

He is sleeping better at night, especially if he doesn't get a nap during the day. Some days are definitely worse than others, but if we can make it through until 4 PM, then the rest of the evening is usually OK. He is still very attached to his binkies, but the dinosaur pajama obsession seems to be gone, although he does prefer to wear pajamas of any sort instead of real clothes. Good thing we have lots of hand-me-down pajamas! He still treats his bed as his "safe place" (his crib at Harborview was his safe place -- nothing really bad happened in his crib -- he was always taken somewhere else for bad things). When he is really upset about something, he goes up to his room and snuggles up in his bed with his binkies and his latest toy of choice. He usually stays there for 15-20 minutes, and then he comes back downstairs when he has things sorted out. At this point I think that is OK. Now, if he is still doing it say, in 10 years then maybe we should get some counseling! At least about the binkie part!

Does he remember? Yes. He will be the first to tell you that his leg was on fire. I don't think he remembers much of what happened at Harborview though. Thank goodness. Does he have nightmares? Yes, but they are getting fewer. It is heartbreaking for Mom and Dad to hold him at night when he has woken up screaming and holding his leg. Some nightmares are too real.

Wyatt and His Magic Yawn

It is Sunday afternoon, all 4 kids are napping (when does that happen?). So what do you think my man and I do, wild things that we are? One of us drives, the other naps. We did hold hands though. We were driving to Seattle for Walter's check-up at the Burn Clinic in Harborview Medical Center on Monday.

Walter did really well for most of the check-up. The doctors were happy with how well his leg looked. They showed us how to take care of the inclusions (kind of like pimples) that form in the grafted skin because the oil glands and hair follicles do not function properly and sebum gets trapped in pockets of the skin. Walter didn't care too much for the extreme flexion of his knee during the range of motion exam--something we need to work on. He also didn't care too much for the burn garment that we tried to get on him. I was a little worried about how he would take the garment as he is very particular about what clothes he wears, but I think it will be fine once we get a garment that actually fits well. Yes, he was too big for the garment that they measured him for a month ago. That's what happens when you are almost 3 years old and you spend a whole month eating, growing, and playing hard. So, they are sending his garment back to have panels added down the sides of the legs and are making his new garments bigger.

While we were in the exam room waiting for the doctors to show up, the kids were playing with the bucket of "distraction toys". Walter had a spinning lights toy, Reid had a small slinky, and Wyatt had a acrylic tube filled with liquid and glitter. I'm sure you've see one of those toys--you turn it from end to end and the glitter and liquid move from one end of the tube to the other. Wyatt started dancing around the room saying, "I have a magic yawn. Look at my magic yawn." Randy and I looked at each other--What did he say? Randy asked him if his "magic yawn" put everyone to sleep. We explained to him that it should be "magic wand", but he just kept calling it his "magic yawn". We had a good laugh. His magic yawn must have worked, the kids slept from about Issaquah until just before the rest stop at the 395 junction. I feel a yawn coming on.....getting sleepy......zzzzzzzzz.........

Walter and Wylie

The little musician in the making.
(Sorry about all the background noise).

Walter's Benefit

Today was a big day for Walter and our family. Today we were blessed and honored to get together with about 200 friends and family members at the Palouse Empire Fairgrounds for a benefit concert and auction to raise monies for Walter's medical expenses. From our perspective the benefit was wonderful and so perfectly put together. We thoroughly enjoyed the concert that Wylie Gustafson donated--he is one of our family's favorite singers (a few years ago I actually had a dream that I sang backup for him--but shhhhh-- that's my little secret!). There was a bake sale with goodies made and donated by all the 4H and FFA clubs in the county, and horse drawn wagon rides. The silent auction had well over a 100 lovely and unique items donated. These items included everything from tons of hay and loads of gravel to quilts, baby blankets, decor items, bed and breakfast stays, and even an Alaskan cruise. What a wonderful community we live in. Thank you! Thank you!

But I am afraid Walter will never be the same. Wylie must have hit a spark in Walter's imagination during his concert because afterwards when Wylie was putting his guitar away, Walter climbed the stairs of the stage and started following Wylie around. I'm not sure what Wylie thought, but he let Walter strum his guitar and talk on the microphone with him. Walter went extemporaneous from there and started talking, singing, and gesturing. It was so hilarious and sweet that I had tears streaming down my face --not from sadness, but happiness. My little boy that is always full of surprises. I heard someone say, "A new entertainer is born....I doubt that one will be a veterinarian."

4 Weeks Ago....

Four weeks ago today, we were on our way home from Harborview. Four whole weeks of getting back to normal -- whatever that is. Four weeks of playing Power Rangers, smelling flowers, taking care of his leg, and getting dirty.




He can almost run now. At least he can hustle real good--gets those arms just a swinging and those legs moving. He still has a little limp, but I think as his scar smooths out and his skin softens he will forget that he is supposed to limp. He is very protective of his leg, as you might imagine. I think we all are.

Again I want to thank every one of you that cooked for us, prayed for us, cried with us, gave so selflessly to help us. We are forever indebted to you and humbled by your giving. Until now I have purposefully avoided mentioning the upcoming benefit because I simply do not know what to say. We are thankful, humbled, grateful, and just uncertain how else to respond. Life as we know it will never be the same. Not just because of Walter's burn, but because we have been touched so deeply by your giving. We will never forget.

A Good Egg

The Good, the Bad, and the Not-so-Ugly

It has been two weeks since we left the hospital. Two wonderful yet frustrating weeks. Walter has blossomed being at home. In general his attitude has greatly improved, his walking has improved 200% (is that possible?), his appetite is great--he has gained 1.5 lbs. As you can see from the pictures, his leg is looking very good. There is one spot the size of a quarter on the back of his calf that is still stubbornly refusing to heal, but it is not infected.

There are days (and nights) though that are still quite difficult as his mood swings can be quite dramatic. He is not sleeping very well which probably adds to the bad moods. I find myself wondering if this is just normal 2 1/2 yr old behavior (he wasn't this way before the burn), or if this is transient--just his way of working through all the trauma and changes, or something monstrous that needs to be addressed. I am leaning towards the first two, but at the same time I don't want him to use this event in his life as an excuse for bad behavior. I know part of how this event will affect the rest of his life is how we treat him --if we treat him differently. It is a fine line. We are doing our best. It may take us awhile to get it all sorted out. In the meantime, we are enjoying being a family again--the good, the bad, and even the ugly.

Walter Playing

One Month Later....

(picture taken with cell-phone, sorry)

One month to the day that we first arrived at Harborview, we had our first Burn Clinic checkup. One month ago I wrote this. One month ago my mind was awash with all the emotions that any mother in the same situation would feel--fear, worry, guilt. (Yes, guilt--I will have to think about that one some more). I still feel these emotions, just to a lesser extent.

Now, one month later, we had a wonderful, awesome, perfect checkup! I worried about how Walter would take going back to Harborview. I think an adult or older child might be a little anxious, but Walter was just fine with it. He had to point us down the correct halls and elevators that we needed to take to get to the Burn Unit. He was fine with Randy taking off his dressings--he directed. He even didn't mind the docs looking at his leg and saying, "Looks wonderful! Come back in a month."

Afterward, we stopped by the Burn Floor to visit our friends. Walter went straight for the foot-powered police car that he had tried to use before but was unable to maneuver. He had to take that cart (powered by his own feet) the complete circuit of the hospital that we used to take him in the red wagon. It took awhile, but it was something he REALLY wanted to do. He takes after his daddy--stubborn, tenacious, and going-to-do-it-if-it-kills-him. What a little man. Oh yeah, and he even smiled most of the time. However, just in case some of the nurses were to forget, he reminded them of just how loud he can scream, too!

My Morning Workout

I had the most wonderful phone conversation this morning. I can't wait to repeat it. I was talking to my good friends the health insurance people. If you are a small business owner in the state of Washington, you know how hard it is to get good health insurance. Cover your eyes if you don't want to read this--but I always end up feeling screwed by the health insurance companies. We pay about $1000 a month for health insurance. Each year the premium goes up and in return for more of my money, they cover less and less. Up until this year, the insurance companies made money on us.

The conversation goes like this. "I am calling about the claim dated 3/1/09 for air ambulance for $xx,xxx."

(pause) "I'm sorry, we do not cover this. No, not MedStar, never heard of them. They are out of our network of providers, " says pleasant female voice.

"They are the only air ambulance in our area. Would you rather I drove my burned son to Seattle?" says not-so-pleasant female voice. (I'm sorry). "Do you by chance know if skin grafts are covered?"

I love talking to the health insurance company. It gives me a good workout. My heart rate increases, I get a nice rosy flush to my cheeks, my blood pressure sky-rockets. Excuse me while I go bang my head against the wall. Much better. It makes more sense now that my brain is addled. What a racket. I am thankful I have some health insurance, but sometimes I do wonder why I bother.

Walter the Director

Walter has decided to not just sit back and let life happen to him, he wants to direct it. Last night for his bath and dressing change, Walter had to direct Daddy how and when to take off the dressings, get washed, get out of the tub, and put the dressings back on. Gone was the screaming, frightened Walter--he was OK with everything. He had to look at his leg this way and that--lifting it up and pointing to this spot, then the next spot. Also, I don't know if you have noticed or not, but he has not needed his binkies near as much as he did in the hospital. He is talking like he was before his burn. And best of all, this morning just after I had an awful conversation with the insurance company, he came walking into the living room and said, "Hi, Mom." What a brave little man. He made my day.

Tomorrow we will be heading back over the mountains for our first check-up. Hope it goes well.

Brothers enjoying a fun-filled gift basket. Thank- you!

Walter Walking!

In one 24 hr period, Walter has gone from not walking at all, to walking while holding our hands. He is supporting most of his own weight, just uses our hands for help with balancing. I knew he could do it!!! Little bugger, just had to get it into his own head that he could. He is also eating us out of house and home, but I am not complaining. Go, Walter, Go!

(Thank you, Jesus!)

The Problem with Pain

I am going to play turtle and stick my neck out. Hopefully no one chops it off before I can retract again. I have been pondering this subject a lot in the light of Walter's burn, but it has been a struggling point with me most of my life. Why does God allow pain and suffering, especially of the innocent? What is the purpose, if any? Is this a question I should even be asking?

I was pondering all of this the other day as I was cleaning up one of my flower beds (it looks lots better by the way). I do some of my best thinking while pruning, weeding, and cleaning beds. After the last "Mom, can you find me another salamander?" went back inside the house, my mind began churning. Is there a purpose in all of this, or is it simply just what happened--no blame, no rhyme or reason--just life. Does God really care about each sparrow that falls? If so, why doesn't he keep it from falling? This is a slippery slope that I don't venture too close to the edge of very often. Of course the obvious answer is sin. But isn't God more powerful than the devil? I know all the pat answers, have heard them all my life, but they don't work for me anymore. Life on earth is too complex for pat answers.

I still don't have the answer. One of my friends, Vicki Broeckel wrote in a note to us, "We can't measure God's love by our circumstances--the cross is the measure of His love to us." I like it.

Sticking my neck back in my shell now.

Here is a picture of the salamander by the way.

Dressing Changes

Every evening Walter has his dressing change. From start to finish the dressing changes take about 1 hour. It is not the most pleasant process for Walter, but he is getting more used to it. I think he is tolerating it better at home than he did at the hospital. The process starts with preparing and cutting the xeroform dressings and the tubigrip stockinette. Then we get Walter undressed and cut off the old tubigrip with bandage scissors. As you can imagine, he does not like anyone getting near his leg with scissors, but it is better than pealing the dressing off. Next, Walter gets to have a long soak in the tub to get the xeroform dressings off. Some of them float off, others have to be picked off. It is not fun--much screaming and thrashing around. Once the pieces are all off, he is fine. After the bath we reapply his dressings, put the Beta-glucan cream on his donor sites, and get him dressed. Big breath....all done.

Here is a picture of his leg last night after his bath. It is looking better and better every day.


Here are three brothers having a screaming contest while eating "cicles" as they are called by Walter.

We continue to need prayer for Walter to start walking. After the first day, he has refused to extend his legs and put weight on them. I have been able to get him to stand for very short periods, but if you try to get him to walk, he collapses. I am quite sure he is physically capable of walking, but for some reason he must think he can't. If you have any ideas, please let me know.