Addiction, Movies and Goose's wingman

Movie going, for me, has always been a 2 hour escape to an experiential place I'd like to go or a character I'd like to be. All of us who watched Top-Gun pictured ourselves in the cockpit with Goose. 

Last night, while surfing Amazon Prime Movies, I happened on a movie called "Beautiful Boy". Bored, I honestly had no idea what the movie was about. The next two hours took me into the world of methamphetamines, a father and son and their journey. It was the sad story of a young son who began smoking pot at a young age to fill a void in his heart, and ended up injecting his veins with meth, heroine and other narcotics. This was not a feel-good movie. In fact, the movie left me feeling hopeless for the young son. 

Drugs have the ingredients to make a person hopeless; they have the power to break up families and ruin marriages. The trajectory of small decisions can spiral a life into a meaningless world and even death. 

I have never used any type of illegal substance. However, I have seen the destruction that it can have on the person and their family. There is nothing good, and I mean nothing, that comes from a "little" high. Its like opening the door to pandora's box. Small choices can generate many complicated problems.

If you're a parent, consider watching the movie. It will leave you with the urgency of understanding the fallen nature of the world we live in. Speak to your kids. Be an example to them. As the movie demonstrated, a child has an empty space in their heart, help them fill it with God! 

Unlike putting myself in the cockpit of Tom Cruises' fighter jet, where I ended up this glorious naval pilot hero, this movie placed me in the shoes of a helpless, hopeless parent. It provided for me the compassion each of us should feel for a parent that is doing everything they can do for a situation that makes them feel hopeless.  Today, I spent a few minutes in prayer thanking God for the kids I know who are recovering addicts and I prayed for the parents who woke up this morning asking "why?" Join me in that prayer.

A month of Advent ....ure

If you would have told me November the 1st what our December was going to be like, I would not have believed you.

Lewis came home from the hospital a few days before Christmas. 9 days and approximately 23 lbs later,  Lewis is attempting to piece together his post-graduate life. He has had one post-hospital visit with the doctor saying he is on the mend. As the doctor said, he was one sick kid.

Papa Jerry, we hope, is spending his last night in the Forsyth hospital tonight, Sunday, December 30. The doctor and caseworker gave dad the go-ahead to leave the hospital on Monday with a 4-6 week prescription of formal rehabilitation. His insurance/doctors have chosen Bermuda Commons in Advance, NC for this next chapter.

On the last Monday of November, mom called me indicating that dad could not get up and she was unable to get him mobile. I arrived and we decided to call 911. That was the beginning of his month-long stay at Novant Forsyth Hospital. He was diagnosed with some type of infection that we believe was causing communication problems between his legs and brain. He simply couldn't walk. Soon after entering the hospital, he was diagnosed with Clostridium difficile (klos-TRID-e-um dif-uh-SEEL), often called C. difficile or C. diff,  which is a bacterium that can cause symptoms ranging from diarrhea to life-threatening inflammation of the colon. (Source*Mayo clinic)

This began a month of terrible diarrhea.  When I say terrible, I mean terrible. The ordeal caused weakness, significant nutritional interruption, and weight loss. In fact, his entry weight in November was 250 lbs. Today he weighed in at 215 lbs; a 35 lbs loss. Needless to say, he is weak. His body has been on shut down because of lack of hydration, food and no exercise. The nurses have only been able to get him out of the bed a few times to sit up in the hospital chair in this room. His room has been a prison. He has been stationary in a 4x6 bed for the entire month.

All of that being said, we are excited to say his Cdiff has been controlled; his desire to eat has been regained. The doctor told him, "if you want to get out of the hospital, you're going to have to eat". In an effort to awaken his taste buds, I asked the doctor if an old fashion honey bun would be ok, he said, "yes, eat 8 if you want". I asked dad if he would eat one, he said "yes'. So Friday afternoon, I fed him an old fashion honey bun like he had eaten 100s of times at my grandmother's country store. He ate it all. Saturday and today he continued to eat more normal including a sausage biscuit, Arby's roast beef, and other common food staples.

Regarding rehab: The doctor said to expect 4-6 weeks at Bermuda Commons. He will receive approximately 2 one hour strength training daily.  We'll just call this chapter 2 of his medical story.

Two final comments:

Mom and the family have had many reach out to us via social media, calls, cards, and socially. Dad told me many times he has felt the prayers of so many. We will never be able to thank each of you personally, but please know that dad, mom, and the family appreciate the sincere outpouring of our friends. The phone calls, post, and visits have been relayed to him; every one of them.

A Day in Montana - 2015

Regarding my mother. Daily, she has been at the hospital, spending approximately 8 hours each day, 7 days a week being by dad's side. She has been his advocate, soul mate, and life love. Her dedication to him in his absolute time of need has been heroic and beautiful. Mom may be a small little lady, but she is tough as nails. Thank you for your example of a Godly wife. Better or worse gave you a little worse this month. Your example is powerful.



Christmas is over. December was the beginning of Advent, the period beginning four Sundays before  Christmas and observed by some Christians as a season of prayer and fasting. Many of you in your own personal way used this season for celebration of the incarnation of Christ. I witnessed the embodiment of the deity of God through Christ through so many people. The prayers were felt, they were received. My family's personal advent became an adventure. It was one that I would have rather not gone through. But despite the fear, the pain, and interruption of our lives, I know that something good has come from all of this. All things work together for good for those that love the Lord. Praise God!

The fog lifted this morning.

First off, I appreciate the way so many of you have reached out to Lewis thru Elizabeth & me.

This morning at 7 AM, the nurses came to pick Lewis up to take him down 8 flights to the operating room. He was so thirsty, all the whole time brave. They cut his water intake off at 10 the previous night. The OR prep team explained the procedure and Lewis said, “lets get this done”.

Both his grandmothers, Liz and I waited as we watched the monitor identifying “prepping, in “surgery” and “recovering”. As all people waiting for a love ones to get out of surgery, we anxiously waited for the OR waiting room phone to ring. I hurried over to answer and they ask for someone in the Swicegood family; I said “speaking” . The nurse said "the surgery went well, and his first words were I want my mom”. Only one person could go back. Twenty four years old or 10, a boy wants his mom when he's in a pickle.

The doctor said that he accomplished his goal by cleaning the infection surrounding his left lung and inserting two new larger tubes. Currently, the tubes are secreting blood like fluid from his chest. They have given him a button for the pain, and like Lewis, he is trying not to use it. When he heard me talking in the room, with his eyes closed, he slowly reached out with his hand and squeezed my hand. That felt like a waterfall!

I showed up this morning at the hospital around 5:45AM. Liz had spent the night. It was foggy, but as the sun breached the horizon, the fog began to lift. I took a picture of the sun rising near his room. The scripture in Lamentations came to my mind “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3:22-23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The surgeon said the tubes will probably come out towards the end of the week. We see that as good news.

On a not so happy note, my dad is doing no better. I am seeing no progress. We continue to ask for your prayers!

The Storm is still raging....

Despite Lewis' energy last evening, our hopes that he is getting better was diminished this morning with a visit from the surgical team doctor.

Inside of Lewis' left lungs is a spider web, mesh like infection called "loculated capsules". The strong antibiotics they have him on is no match for this infection. So, in the morning (time unknown), he will be going into surgery to have these things removed from his left lung.

Last night, in hopes of seeing himself coming home the week before Christmas, he wanted to be cleaned up; so, I gave him a shave. He also wanted to walk down the hall, so they hooked up the suction devices to a battery and the mobility nurse Kim (who was so helpful) walked him down the hall. She asked, "how far do you walk to go", and like Lewis, he said "my goal is to the outside window and back". He made it and was so happy
to get out of the bed.

This past summer, the two of us were on the Missouri River in Montana. Suddenly, an electrical storm came on top of us. Lightening was every where. We were soaked. Our boat rowed hurriedly to a bridge to seek shelter. While I was unnerved, the sight of that bridge overhang gave me confidence. We are now looking at another bridge overhang and its coming tomorrow. I can't wait to be back on that river with Lewis this summer and praise God together about that storm and this one.

Thank you for your prayers

Praise God in the Storm

I'm sure if you're like me,  music seems to always show up in your mind during life events and the memories of them. Summer time, Sweet Home Alabama, Christmas, Josh Groban's O Holy Night, and the funny one, My first year of dating Elizabeth, Caribbean Queen by Billy Ocean.. " now we're sharing the same dream". I guess she was my queen.

But tonight, sitting in a hospital room with my son, and my father directly above him on the 9th floor at Forsyth Hospital, the chorus to the Casting Crown's song, Praise you in the Storm has been on my mind.  
And I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands, For You are who You are no matter where I am, And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand, You never left my side and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm

Fun times in Craig, Montana

Don't we take life for granted! Three weeks ago we were talking about final exams, caps, and gowns. The college milestone was coming upon us.

The night before Liz and I were planning on driving to Wake Forest to see our son graduate, we got a call from him saying he was going to the ER. It was 9:30 in the evening. I honestly discounted his complaint of pain thinking it was a gym rat muscle issue. We got to the hospital at midnight, only 11 hours before the commencement exercise. The doctor in the ER told us that Lewis had Pneumonia. I said "you're kidding". She gave him some antibiotics and we found a hotel at 1 AM and camped out in north Raleigh. Lewis' pain level was 9 as he described. 6 hours later we all got up and Lewis struggled across stage to receive his Bachelor of Arts in History.

He came home to only take his prescribed medicine and maintain a 102 temperature. Saturday night  we got snow and being the south, roads were impassable until Tuesday. I called the doctor's office thinking he needed a visit and because of the weather, I couldn't get thru Monday or Tuesday morning. At 11 on Tuesday, by what I think was providence of God, I ran into Dr. Joel Edwards. I explained what was going on. He said, "bring him to the office in one hour". We did that and discovered that his left lung was basically depleted of any air and full of infection. From there they sent us to Novant/Clemmons Hospital to do a CT scan, and immediately sent us to Forsyth Hospital for admission. Within 10 hours, they took Lewis into the OR and placed two tubes into his chest. Since then they have been draining his left lung of the "bad stuff".  This evening, they suggested that he may be here thru Christmas. He has leg compressions on, heart monitor, oxygen connected to his nose, two tubes that are between his ribs into his left lung, and two IVs in his arms.

Two observations:

First, Lewis has been so strong; brave. He hasn't complained. Frustrated, yes, but complained, no.
Every time the doctors come into the room to monitor, he listens and wants to know the facts. I know he's my boy, but I have witnessed a man.

Second, Liz and I have been pretty strong too. however, yesterday was significantly emotional. I had friends calling from home, Montana, California, Virginia and Tennessee. Social media created essentially a prayer meeting over Lewis. My bible fellowship group leader Jerry Morrison, called, visited and text me multiple times. On social media,  as I read the kindness of people's inquiries, prayer offerings and such, I can't explain to you the humbling nature of knowing my son and family are the recipients of such goodness. It all came to a climax when a high school friend, Karl Naylor posted on Facebook that he was praying for my son. We haven't seen each other in years, I mean probably 20 years, but he wanted to pray for what my son was going through. I don't know what it was about that specific post, but it was right before Lewis was being taken back to have the tubes placed in this chest. It broke me down (in a way I needed to be). His and all the other post was the switch for me to realize I'm not in control here; God has this, no matter what. 

So, I'll praise God in this storm. 

Don’t always go with your expectations!

Expectations sometimes show up because of years of mis-thought.

Recently, I was invited to speak on behalf of the National Auctioneers Association in Boston. It was the New England Auctioneers Association. As I prepared for the weekend event, the thought entered my mind, “how would these New Englanders welcome a southerner. I had never visited the Boston area and was coming with a few preconceived notions. As a southerner, we pride ourselves on being gentil (or at least we think we are). Maybe even a little more patient than the folks in cities like Boston who apply the horn a little more often than we do down south. In fact, if you visit my hometown and are from the northeast, you would probably begin to ask yourself, “why does every car driver wave at me”. It’s the truth, we wave at strangers driving in the opposite direction. I guess its just a kind gesture of recognition or maybe not wanting to be perceived as stuck up.

So, Elizabeth and I landed at Logan airport. I made my way to National Car Rental. The red head behind the desk was seated very close to the corner of her kiosk next to the competition. I asked “Is this National?” She replied, “you see the green don’t you?”.  I said to myself, “oh boy, my preconceived notions are coming true”.  So we got into our little bitty compact, and I mean compact vehicle that would probably fit into the bed of my Duramax, and began to drive. We entered the first tunnel that was probably 5 lanes wide and found ourselves in the wrong lane. I thought to myself, these people will never let me into the right lane, but lo and behold, they did. I even got a smile and a wave.

We visited the Kennedy Museum that day and enjoyed raw oysters at Union Oyster Bar. The shucker (shucka) was amazing. We had a great conversation. I even caught myself saying “Lob sta” and “butta” . But don’t ask for saltines with your Oysters….. they don’t eat’em that way.

We made that first night to our destination and I reviewed my Power Point for the presentation I would be giving the next day. I was more anxious about my accent than I was about the content. The next day, I was greeted by one of the leaders, Nichole Pirro. We had never met, but quickly we made friendship.  Then I ran into Sara Adams who originally invited me. She too made for quick friendship. I told Elizabeth, I really like these guys. Then Michael Chambers,  who I competed against in the International Auctioneer Championship a fews years back came in a greeted me. Then I began to feel right at home!

I gave my two hour presentation and felt warmly received. In fact I think we all had fun! Granted, I had to translate a few of my words, all in all, I thought it went great. We all had auctioneering in common, but on a human level, I realized that territorial prejudices probably exist because of the lack of communication. Don’t get me wrong…I’m not saying I was prejudice against New Englanders, but I didn’t expect such a friendly group. A few of us enjoyed a late afternoon dinner at a pub in Salem, Massachusetts. It was a great way to end a weekend with new friends. The great thing is, Elizabeth and I have new friends and we love New England. Now don’t get me wrong, I still think they talk a little funny, but heck, one of the people in my presentation used the word “hick” in referring to my southern dialect.

In this world of tribalism as the political pundits call it, our trip reinforced in my heart that we are one great bid country filled with unique and good people. We are Americans. The only thing that separates us is a few miles and a few rivers. Accents and heck, even political views should not keep us from finding value in each other.

How We View Our Historic Enemies. How a German Cemetery Changed Me.

A Visit To La Cambe German War Cemetery

In 2012, our family decided to travel to Paris and then be transported to Normandy, the site of incredible American drama. It was on the shores of the famed D-Day beach called Utah, where we placed a photo of Frank Couch, an American purple heart recipient who wore German delivered shrapnel in his body until he was laid to rest in the sloped cemetery of Jericho Church of Christ in Mocksville, NC.

On this trip, internal patriotism was pounding in our chest. We visited the St. James Cemetery and listened to the chimes of the church bells as we surveyed the crosses and stars of David in rows upon rows. Later, tears accrued upon each of our cheeks as we visited the Colleville-sur-Mer cemetery where 9,387 American souls are buried. An insignificant bluff overlooking Omaha beach made significant by heroes who were born there by their blood and where the future of so many young American’s ended.  As an American, the emotions are hard to describe. 

We had hired a tour guide for the entire experience.  He took us to the Ranger made famous cliff called Point du Hoc.  At the top of the 100 feet cliff was a German army fortification with concrete casemates and gun pits.

As we left these two metes and bounds of American death and victory, our tour guide took us to La Cambe German war cemetery. When he told us, we were going to a German cemetery, I quietly asked myself “why”. 

When we left the vehicle and entered the grounds, it was quiet. There was a monument on a great mound and statue honoring the dead of German soldiers; soldiers that killed and wounded American soldiers. We walked

Located in Bayeux, France. Contains in excess of 21,000 German military personnel of World War II,  maintained and managed by the German War Graves Commission.

silently down the rows just as we did at Colleville-sur-Mer. A transformation of thought came over me as I thought about these German soldiers, some Nazis, others who were simple soldiers like my good friend Frank, loyal to the Motherland. Emotions of hate, anger, and bitterness began to soften. It was divine what the Allies accomplish, not only for the interned Jews, but the entire world from future tyranny.  

The experience created in my heart a clearer understanding of history and the players in it. History, like a moment in time, is concreted in the past. It is typically not black and white. It is complex, layered with many narratives and ideologies. This visit unpeeled a layer for me.

I didn’t celebrate the statues or grave markers as I left La Cambe German war cemetery, but I did leave with a perspective of looking through the eyes of a common German soldier. I’m glad we took this detour of the American path to victory! The German soldier’s life and history are concreted in this cemetery; they served a lost cause, they served wrong cause.

PS: to be clear, what the collective German Army did to the Jewish population was beyond terrible. Please don't read into this any endorsement of their cause whatsoever.