On Monday this week, after the Utah Historical Quarterly board of editors meeting, I went to my dentist office for my periodontal gum graft. They numbed me up, then put a block in my mouth to keep my mouth open while they did the operation. Since I was numb, it just felt like they were flossing.
Unfortunately, they did not adequately prepare me for how painful it would be after the procedure. Beforehand, they told me I wouldn't be able to exercise for a few days, but they made it sound like a very minor thing.
They did not tell me, for instance, that I would only be able to eat very soft foods, but no berries (because of seeds). They did not tell me that I would feel like doing literally nothing the rest of the day. I drove home, and all I wanted to do was lie down. But I needed to have soft foods, and I needed to pick up my antibiotic prescription, and I needed to get a special mouth rinse. Luckily, my mom was willing to do those things for me. (They were at home because we were getting a new furnace.)
I got on my bed and didn't want to do anything. Even watching TV or listening to music sounded like too much. My gums and jaw were in pain, and I felt restless yet also wanted to do nothing. I was frustrated that the dentist office didn't prepare me ahead of time, and I was frustrated that their post-op instructions weren't entirely clear, and even my usual frustrations with life bothered me more than usual.
I took a nap, and as long as I was perfectly still, I wasn't in pain. I became swollen, so I looked like a chipmunk for a few days.
Over the course of the week, I have gradually improved. The swelling has gone down, though I have a bruised cheek, and it has become less painful. I have graduated from very soft foods (cottage cheese, oatmeal, ice cream, refried beans) to soft foods that require chewing (cooked potatoes, bananas, peas). But I still can't have crunchy foods, and I still haven't felt like exercising. (That meant that Thursday's snowstorm didn't really impact me; I was delighted to see snow is still possible.)
***On Tuesday, my parents left on a camping trip, and in the evening my mom tried to call me. It was then that I discovered that my phone's microphone no longer worked. You will recall that I got a new battery the Saturday before. So on Wednesday, I drove back up to Mr. Vik in Kaysville to have them look at the microphone.
They couldn't figure out the problem. So the owner gave me a new replacement phone. I didn't want a new phone—if I did, I wouldn't have bothered replacing the battery. I just hate the hassle of signing in to all the apps again, and getting the settings the way I want them, etc. So they are seeing if they can figure out the microphone issue; if they can, they'll give me my old phone back, but if not, I have a new one. It does sound less likely they'll get it fixed.
The owner is so kind and generous to just give me a new phone. And it might be a problem with the Google Pixel, not the shop's fault, so I might go back anyway to pay for it—I don't want them to lose money, especially when they're a small, local, ethical business.
***
On Thursday, I awoke after having a dream about one of my mission companions, Elder Kitchen. In the dream, he came to church after not attending for many, many years, and everyone was excited to see him. I told him he had to sit by me, and I was going to have a conversation with him.
After I woke up, I wondered if I should try to reach out to him. In 2013, he announced on Facebook that he was gay, and soon his posts indicated he no longer participated in Church. (Balancing those things is hard enough today, but it was even rarer/harder in 2013.) By 2015, his Facebook was deactivated, if not gone altogether. I tried to see if I had an email address for him, but I didn't. And if I ever had his phone number, it would be stashed away on my old flip phone. (I know I had contacted him somehow around 2011, because he had asked if he and his friends could stay at my parents' house while I was at college. I think that's kind of weird, but he was kind of a weird guy.)
| He's on the left in this picture from a mission reunion in April 2011. |
I Googled him and found his family members' social media posts saying he had taken his own life around Christmas in 2023. This was quite a surprise. His mom obviously posted how sad it was, but since he was an adult, they couldn't force him to get help, and he didn't believe he was sick. She also posted that she was relieved he no longer heard the horrible voices that kept him from his family. It sounds like they didn't hear about his death until a few weeks after it happened.
I then found a Facebook account he created in 2023, and in his most recent pictures, he did not look healthy. He even linked to a blog, so of course, I had to read it.
Guys, this blog was truly bizarre.
He claimed that he had been born in Soviet Germany, but then as a young child he was kidnapped by the Mormon Church because they wanted to place gay kids in Mormon families. They placed technology in his brain that they could use to erase his memories and make him throw up. He was adopted by a loving family, but then they were murdered by their cousins, who stole their identities. The people who claimed to be his mother and siblings were not his real family. (Or something like that.)
It was just shocking to see all these absolute nutjob ideas coming from someone I know. Sure, he was a little weird and quirky, but so was I. This is the kind of insanity you expect from TV, not real life. And I'm not using "insanity" flippantly there—he was literally insane. Much of his blog had a lot of religious commentary, and it was decently written with some good ideas. It just baffles me that someone could write a fairly rational blog while having all these 100 percent irrational ideas.
I don't feel sad for myself; he had not been part of my life for a long time. We generally got along as companions, but he liked to do things to get my goat, and he criticized me over lots of dumb things: music, door approaches (his weren't any better), pajamas, deodorant. I'd call him a middling companion.
Regardless, it is surprising to think that I will never have a chance to talk to him again. I don't know if anyone else from the mission knew until I made a Facebook post about it. (And I'm not friends with that many mission people anymore.) It is sad for someone so young to die, but the method—dying by suicide because he was legitimately crazy—is shocking.
Anyway. I have various thoughts about this. Maybe I'll say more about it sometime, but I'm not committing to do so.




























