Showing posts with label project. Show all posts
Showing posts with label project. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

"...and now for a final word from our sponsor..." — Charles Gussman

This will be my last blog post about all things Midland, which is a little weird. I figured it fitting should be about the last project I did there. This is Donna Jackson. A single grandmother raising two kids, her house caught fire in November 2013. I found out about her story while on a separate daily assignment and decided to keep tabs on her while she moved from temporary housing and eventually back into her rebuilt home. Read the story here.

One of my favorite moments came around Christmas 2013. I dropped by as Donna was putting together a Christmas tree someone had bought for her. As we talked and I made some pictures, Donna mentioned offhand that she usually listens to Christmas music while setting up the tree, but had no way of doing so now. I quickly took out my phone and pulled up the Pandora app, searched for "Christmas Radio" and set it on a table near her. It took her a second to realize, and even though in my mind it was a small gesture, she was incredibly grateful. Just another reason that telling stories is pretty incredible.

A few months after the story published, I went to church with Neil and found out that Donna attends there now, along with her granddaughter Elizabeth. We got to service late, and worship had already started, but it was still awesome when Elizabeth came running around the rows of chairs and gave me a big hug and handed me a picture she drew for me.

So once again, to Midland, to Nick and Neil. To Ryan and Rodney. To Thomas, Nathan, John, Kevin, Brett, Channing, Kevin and Justin. To Brittney!! BEST OF LUCK! (And also to everyone else who I'm forgetting.) Thanks for creating and allowing me to contribute to an amazing tradition and telling meaningful community stories on the daily.


















Thursday, November 7, 2013

"A wonderful movie, observant and hilarious and full of sad and beautiful truths..."

In early October I was greenlighted for a last minute trip to Washington, D.C. to continue my story on The Johns family. They were being presented with an "Angels in Adoption" award through the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute. Here are the pages, the pictures, and the story. Enjoy!

For Kurt and Andrea Johns, having a family was always the plan. So when they discovered Andrea was unable to bear children, they chose to adopt.
They said it was common sense for them to adopt their children, Austin, 11, Katie, 6, and Aliyah, 3, and accept them wholeheartedly as family. Every child deserves a family and they gave that chance to local foster children.
So, in September, when they received a call from the office of U.S. Rep. Dave Camp, R-Midland, saying they were the recipients of an Angels in Adoption award through the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute, they asked themselves, “Why us?” (The award recognizes people for their work in the adoption, foster care and child welfare community.)
 “I didn’t think that what we did with our lives so far, that it’s really anything that spectacular,” Kurt said. “We wanted to make a family ... it was the route we took in life to have the kids the way we had them.”
The award came with the opportunity to visit Washington, D.C., and take part in the awards ceremony and gala. It also provided Kurt and Andrea the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with Austin, something he had been receiving less and less since his sister Katie’s diagnosis with brain cancer. The past year has been a battle with Austin, Kurt said, describing him as a deer in the headlights. While everyone was focusing on Katie, Austin’s schoolwork “tanked,” because he either wasn’t doing it or he wasn’t turning it in, cramming it into folders or into the seats on the bus. But now he’s learning, striving to understand what cancer is and asking questions he was afraid to ask, including “What makes it come out?” Or, questions that addressed his fear of getting cancer himself, because his sister has it.
“You can definitely tell he’s different now,” Andrea said. “He’s doing a lot better right now compared to what he was, but I think it changed him.”
 With news of the award, arrangements were hastily made, plane tickets and hotel were booked, and on the first weekend in October the Johnses dropped Katie and Aliyah off at various family members’ houses and headed for D.C. They spent the weekend visiting museums and attractions, and whatever remained open during the government shutdown. One of Austin’s highlights was the International Spy Museum and he and Kurt spent much of the rest of the week recounting the interesting gadgets they saw on display.
The week’s activities had only just begun. Monday included a bus tour of the city (the tour time trimmed due to monument closures), Tuesday was the awards ceremony and Wednesday they were given the chance to meet with Camp in the Capitol building, and then attend the closing gala.
 However, along with the various events and trips, came a series of phone calls from home that disrupted their trip.
As the weekend heat and blistering sun gave way to a blustery, rainy Monday morning, Kurt’s grandfather had taken a turn for the worse. Fluid was continuously filling his lungs after a car accident the week before. When they had left, he was recovering, but now he wasn’t getting any better.
“It was a complete 180, now they’re talking that he’s going to be on his deathbed,” Kurt said. “It makes you not want to be there, plain and simple.”
 Andrea knew she had to be strong. She had to talk to Austin about death, something he hadn’t really experienced yet, let alone with someone so close. She called back home and asked family members to take Katie and Aliyah, who both had already called her crying asking them to come back home, to visit their great-grandfather and say goodbye. But, it was hard for her when all she wanted to do was crumble.
 Over the next few days, Kurt and Andrea kept close tabs on what was happening at home. Katie was fighting going to school because she wanted her mother to take her. Kurt’s parents were delivering frequent updates as his grandfather continued on a downward spiral. Still, the Johnses made sure to appreciate the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity presented to them.
 As they prepared to meet with Camp on Wednesday, who was unable to attend the awards ceremony the day before, another call came through for Andrea. Katie, who was at a chemotherapy appointment, had counts so low she practically had no immune system. Sores had appeared in her mouth over the weekend and she was complaining about her legs hurting.
 It wasn’t easy to hear this. Andrea hung up the phone, wiping tears from her eyes, and was met with blank stares from Kurt and Austin. Everything seemed to be falling apart, but they put on their sweaters and headed out.
 Camp took them on a tour of the U.S. Capitol building, showing them the Capitol rotunda and the geographic center of D.C., and to the balcony looking west over the National Mall, the same spot where presidents have delivered inaugural speeches.
 “I was grateful that we were there,” Andrea said. “But in my mind I’m thinking, ‘What is the expense for the next ticket to get out of here?’”
 And that feeling was multiplied after they left Camp’s office and prepared for the gala. While in Ann Arbor, Katie was given a prescription for the mouth sores, and Lynnette Miller, a friend who had taken Katie to chemo, went to fill the prescription and noticed that Katie felt warm. She was running a temperature of 101. So Miller called Andrea and took Katie to the emergency room in Midland.
 By all accounts, Kurt and Andrea were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But again, despite the concern for the adversity at home, they changed their clothes and hopped on a shuttle bus for an eventful evening. And though it seemed to come at the worst possible time, it was just what they needed.
“Grandpa was taking some of his last breaths, Katie was at her worst,” Andrea said. “But (the gala) also had a lot of humor in it to make my mind not dwell on everything we couldn’t help.”
 By midnight Wednesday, Katie had been moved to an Ann Arbor hospital. Hours later, her family was airborne, heading home to be by her side.
“You could tell she was absolutely exhausted,” Kurt said.
 Over the next few days Andrea stayed in Ann Arbor by Katie’s side at the hospital as Kurt drove back and forth, bringing clothes and other necessary supplies to his wife and daughter and then driving back to Midland to be by his grandfather’s side.
“It’s hard to switch gears like that. To be there for her but then also be thinking about what’s going on here,” Kurt said. “When I’m down there I want to be up here with my grandpa, and when I’m up here I’m thinking about Katie.”
The road became Kurt’s respite: the only time he had to himself, to reflect and collect himself before diving back into the thick of everything.
On that Friday, Kurt’s grandfather passed away.
“I thought at one time, maybe this is God taking one angel to leave an angel for us,” Andrea said, who stayed with Katie until she was released from the hospital on that Sunday.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

ZinClear.

In the spring of 2012, everything was normal for the Johns. Katie Johns, then 5, the middle of three adopted children belonging to Kurt and Andrea Johns, took a vision and hearing test at pre-school. It was the kind of test you don’t think anything of, according to Andrea. When Katie showed signs of deafness in her right ear, the results raised no immediate concerns.
“I thought she was just not minding when they did the test,” Andrea said.
A couple of appointments and tests later, and nothing came of it. Everyone said to wait until the end of summer — perhaps it was allergies.
The Johns were not satisfied with that response, taking Katie in for a CAT scan showed “questionable shadows,” which required an MRI. The MRI revealed a golf ball sized tumor located near Katie’s cerebellum, leaving Kurt and Andrea with a host of questions, the main one being “How do we know if it’s cancer?”
“I was in a state of disbelief. You go from a kid that has a hearing problem to hearing she has a tumor in her head,” Kurt said.
Another MRI showed pressure and swelling on the brain. A biopsy confirmed the cancerous nature of the tumor. Katie had Pilocytic Astrocytoma, a rare type of childhood brain cancer.
“I was scared of what I was going to hear, what was to come and most importantly if I was going to have her years or even months from then. I cried every day, sometimes all day,” Andrea said.
For Katie’s brother, Austin, 11, it was a tough blow. He knew what cancer could lead to. At first, he didn’t want his parents to talk about the situation in front of him because it hurt too much. Over the past year he’s become increasingly involved with Katie’s health — Kurt and Andrea tell him everything because that’s the way they think it should be. He’s gone with her to three chemotherapy appointments, although each time Katie has been unable to get the treatment because of her consistently low counts.
“The first time he went he was like a deer in headlights,” Andrea said. “He was scared, nervous and we tried to ease him.” His parents say he still has a million questions running through his head, he just won’t ask them.
Katie, now 6, has had her hiccups, too. At first she had to be bribed to go to the doctor’s office. She would kick and scream the whole way, requiring additional bribes to cooperate. Now the strong-willed young girl is respectful, knowing that after her check ups and after the medicine is administered, she’s off playing with the other children. The little blonde angel has turned into a warrior princess, remaining active and defiant.
Despite the family’s fears, Kurt and Andrea try to let the children live like normal kids. They play, they study, they throw tantrums and wear themselves out. Because so much of Kurt and Andrea’s time is spent centered around Katie, they make sure to have “special days” with Austin and Aliyah, 3 as well as with Katie.
“I always want the kids to know that they are loved,” Andrea said.
Through all of Katie’s health issues, the most important lessons they’ve learned as a family is to view life as more of a gift. They try not to sweat the small stuff anymore, Kurt said. For them, the moments where they can just be as a family have become that much more precious.
Though Katie’s condition is currently stable, the outcome is always an unknown and she’s grasping that. She still needs her naps to make it through the day, still has moments where she’s weak in the legs and hands — but she’s changed. No longer screaming and crying “I hate cancer and cancer sucks,” She’s understanding.
Sure, their routine has changed. Playing outside is punctuated by making sure Katie’s mask is on, and that she’s using hand sanitizer. But she knows that after she’s gotten over her latest chemo-induced sickness, she’ll be off scampering around the house, sliding down the hallway on the hardwood floors in her socks with her sister.
Katie's story is one I've been following off and on for a while. Originally a daily assignment during my first week at the MDN. Since then we've covered a couple benefits for her. I've covered similar assignments, but it's great to actually know the people who you're photographing.
To put the camera down and play guitar hero or hang out at the hospital while they're waiting.
To get the call saying "Hey, this is happening, want to come over?"
Now that this first piece is published, I'm looking to broaden the scope of the story and focus a bit on everyone.
It's a big transitional time, the kids are moving up and starting at new schools.
Katie is still a central focus, but it'll be interesting and fun to show everyone around her in their own light, too.
So, with one year coming and passing here at the Midland Daily News. It's time.
Time to refocus, re-energize. Get pumped up and keep pushing myself and striving for more.

And most importantly, keep telling the stories that matter most.