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How a prayerful surgeon — Dr. Russell M. Nelson — helped ensure a joyful Mother's Days for BYU coach Heather Olmstead and her family
How a prayerful surgeon — Dr. Russell M. Nelson — helped ensure a joyful Mother's Days for BYU coach Heather Olmstead and her family

Yahoo

time11-05-2025

  • Health
  • Yahoo

How a prayerful surgeon — Dr. Russell M. Nelson — helped ensure a joyful Mother's Days for BYU coach Heather Olmstead and her family

Brigham Young University women's volleyball coach Heather Olmstead doesn't need a day like Mother's Day to prompt a personal 'put-life-in-its-proper-perspective' reset. Olmstead's family and faith already keep her anchored to those matters that eclipse professional priorities, such as winning conference games and titles in the hypercompetitive world of Division I college volleyball. But make no mistake — Olmstead knows all about the elation that winning produces. Winning, she's quick to admit, is a lot of fun. During her nine seasons at the helm of the Cougars' celebrated volleyball program, the coach's squads have walked away with victories in almost 90% of their matches. No current NCAA DI women's volleyball coach with more than three years tenure has a higher winning percentage than Olmstead — and no DI women's coach has ever reached 200 wins faster. But again — all the NCAA tournament wins, the conference titles, the national coaching awards and even a defining Final Four appearance are of distant importance to Olmstead. For Olmstead, Mother's Day simply serves as an unnecessary — yet still always joyful — reminder of a mother's love. And the power of prayer. The promise of temples. And the humble wisdom of a skilled surgeon/spiritual leader — President Russell M. Nelson — who continues to bless and guide her life. Forty-five years ago, raising a daughter to become a nationally renowned college volleyball coach was not on Trudy Olmstead's wish list. She simply wanted the unborn child that she would name Heather— along with her twin sibling, Nicole — to survive. And, God willing, Trudy Olmstead wanted to survive herself. Realizing both appeared improbable. A team of doctors told her that a lump discovered on her right lung needed to be removed if she wanted to live. And to live, they added, Trudy would have to abort her unborn twins. It was 1980 and Trudy Olmstead was 30 years old and relishing her life as a young Latter-day Saint wife and mother in a volleyball-loving Southern California family. She and her husband, Rick, remember being thrilled to discover that their fourth child was on the way. They didn't know yet that Trudy was expecting twins. But a persistent cough tempered the Olmsteads' excitement. Initially diagnosed as bronchitis, the cough continued. And Trudy was feeling unusually off. A subsequent chest X-ray revealed a lump on her lung. A short time later, Trudy's doctor discovered she was pregnant with twins. 'I was told this was life-threatening and was told I had three months to live,' recalled Trudy Olmstead, while sharing her experience with the Deseret News. Life-saving treatments, her doctors insisted, could not be performed without aborting the fetuses. Trudy Olmstead's response: 'Nope. We have to find an answer. There's no way I'm going to abort two babies.' Her decision to search for an option that did not include losing the babies was fortified by the words of her patriarchal blessing, which promised she would be 'the mother of many' and would 'live a long and useful life.' 'I was 30 years old and thought, 'This is not what's supposed to be happening,'' she said. 'We wanted to seek out a (Latter-day Saint) doctor.' When Trudy revisits those frightening and uncertain days, 45 years ago, she remembers tracing the Lord's hand clearly. Shortly before her diagnoses, Trudy's father, Dwayne Andersen, was preparing to begin his calling as the first president of the soon-to-be-dedicated Japan Tokyo Temple. Prior to departing for Japan, Andersen and his wife, Peggy, had spent several days in the Salt Lake Temple preparing for their upcoming temple assignment. One day in the Salt Lake Temple, the Andersens discovered that an old hometown friend, Dantzel White Nelson, was in the temple attending the wedding ceremony of one of her daughters. Joining Dantzel Nelson that day was her husband, a noted surgeon named Dr. Russell M. Nelson. Andersen introduced himself to Dr. Nelson, who, four years later, was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Today, now-President Russell M. Nelson is the church's 17th president. A short time after Andersen met Dr. Nelson in the temple, his daughter Trudy's life-threatening illness was revealed. Desperate for the life of his daughter and unborn grandchildren, Andersen reached out to Dr. Nelson. He described his daughter's dire medical condition — and her doctors' general consensus that she should abort the twins if she wanted to survive. Dr. Nelson asked to see Trudy's records, including her X-rays and all of her doctors' notes. Immediately, Andersen flew to Salt Lake City to personally deliver them to the surgeon. 'My dad handed my records to Dr. Nelson,' said Trudy Olmstead. 'Dr. Nelson put them to his chest and told my dad, 'The Lord and I will talk about this tonight — I'll call you in the morning.'' After meeting with a team of his colleagues on an early Sunday morning, Dr. Nelson called Andersen with hopeful news. 'First, Dr. Nelson said, 'Do not abort those babies — the Lord will decide what happens with them.'' The surgeon added that Trudy Olmstead did not have cancer, but that the tumor was life-threatening and needed to be removed. Chemotherapy or radiation was not an option. And Dr. Nelson agreed to perform the operation. 'That solved it for us,' recalled Trudy, remembering the calmness she immediately felt. Trudy and Rick Olmstead were soon traveling with the Andersens from California to Utah for the surgery. But before going to the hospital, the Olmsteads received their endowments in the Provo Utah Temple and were sealed to their three children. 'And then we drove from the luncheon after the sealing to the LDS Hospital and I was admitted,' said Trudy Olmstead. That memorable time spent with her loved ones in the Provo temple only added to the peace she had already felt knowing that the operation to remove the tumor would be performed by a technically skilled and prayerful surgeon. 'Everything was orchestrated,' she said, 'in the most miraculous way.' Miracles and an unforgettable measure of medical resourcefulness would be demanded during the challenging procedure. In Sheri Dew's book 'Insights from a Prophet's Life: Russell M. Nelson,' Dr. Nelson recalled the operation proving to be more complicated and extensive than he had anticipated: 'The tumor was so close to the heart that I did not have a clamp narrow enough to put a clamp on the artery and still have space for the cutting blade of the scissors. 'Therefore, the pulmonary artery had to be cut without being clamped. My only option was to put my finger in the artery to stop the blood and keep my finger there until I was able to suture the artery closed. 'All the time, I kept thinking, 'I have three lives depending on my finger.'' The operation, which required the removal of Trudy's right lung, proved successful. Trudy's life had been spared. Five months later, two baby girls joined the Olmstead family. They were named Heather and Nicole. Years later, the twins met then-Elder Nelson for the first time. Heather Olmstead remembered the surgeon-apostle pulling out a journal where he recorded the details of the operation that saved three lives — including her own. Elder Nelson told the young women that their mother was an angel. 'That was powerful for me,' said Heather Olmstead, as recorded in the book. 'To think that she was an angel here on earth really changed my relationship with my mother. 'Elder Nelson looked at me with those piercing blue eyes of his, and I believed him.' May is an 'offseason' for women's college volleyball players. But for DI coaches competing in the storied Big 12 Conference such as Heather Olmstead, there are no down periods. There's always another outside hitter or skilled setter that needs to be recruited. Staffs and schedules need to be solidified and finalized. Preparation, followed by more preparation. And, of course, college coaching in 2025 means coaching in the ever-evolving, always uncertain world of NIL and the transfer portal. Olmstead and her colleagues need to be perpetually 're-recruiting' their own athletes, even while keeping a close eye on the portal in case a prized player becomes available. 'So we're just focusing on our relationships with our players — helping them to feel our love and BYU's love for them,' Olmstead told the Deseret News. Her upcoming squad is a young team, she added, 'so we're still trying to learn which players are going to lead this team and help us through the summer.' Meanwhile, coaching at a school sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints presents both challenges and opportunities. BYU's Honor Code, insists Olmstead, is a benefit. 'Whether it's spiritually, athletically, or academically, our recruits know what they're getting into when they come here,' she said. 'So we want to lean into that Honor Code.' A pragmatist, Olmstead is also choosing to focus on the opportunities offered by today's college sports realities. 'It's here to stay,' she said. 'So adapting to the NIL and the transfer portal and the Honor Code are all things that are going to help us reach our goals.' The coach counts the opportunities that BYU offers its athletes 'to share the gospel of Jesus Christ' as defining. Wearing the school's blue-and-white jersey — and what it represents — stretches beyond victories inside the lines. 'President Nelson,' she said, 'has said there's no greater work than the work that's happening to gather Israel on both sides of the veil.' BYU, added Olmstead, is a faith-based institution. 'That gives us the opportunity to really praise God and just understand that we're representing something bigger than ourselves — and our players do a really good job at that.' There are inherent pressures of competing for BYU. Players are watched closely by the school's global fanbase and others because of its unique aspects. 'We talk about that all the time: Doing the best you can with what you have and being honest and true and having integrity and playing with character.' It's easy to spot the same spiritual impulses that guided Trudy Olmstead at a difficult moment 45 years ago now at play in the life of her daughter. During the good times — and the rough times — Heather Olmstead discovers strength through her faith. 'Just by turning to the Lord and being able to be in the temple weekly and growing in my relationship with Jesus Christ.' The Olmsteads, of course, are one the church's first families of volleyball. Rick Olmstead played volleyball at what's now known as Brigham Young University-Hawaii. He later coached the sport, counting sport legend Karch Kiraly as one of his players. Growing up in Southern California gave the Olmstead kids almost daily opportunities to hone their skills. Several played volleyball at the college level — including Heather (Utah State) and her older brother, Shawn, who's now the men's coach at BYU. So are all Olmstead family gatherings and discussions centered around volleyball? 'We don't talk about volleyball at all when we're with family or celebrating,' said Heather Olmstead, laughing. 'We're just living our lives. We're at baptisms. We're at Thanksgiving and we're at family gatherings. We're at missionary homecomings for our nieces and nephews. … There's no volleyball talk.' And, no, Heather Olmstead never drops unsolicited coaching advice on her brother, Shawn — or vice versa. Still, she's quick to add she welcomes and appreciates coaching mentors — including her brother, her dad and family friend, Karch Kiraly. Olmstead's own unique faith and family history continues to inform her interactions with her players in a highly-competitive and always scrutinized college sports environment. 'How can we help them remember,' she asks, 'that their individual worth comes from being a daughter of God?' For many years, Mother's Day was, well, work, for Trudy Olmstead. After all, the holiday falls on a Sunday. It may have been mom's 'special day' — but there were also seven active kids that needed to be scrubbed and dressed for church. But time has deepened Trudy's appreciation for the holiday. 'I cherish it,' she said. 'I am so grateful as a mother to have my children and to have my grandchildren. 'Mother's Day, to me, is like the celebration of life, because I was given life.' And, yes, anytime the Olmsteads watch President Nelson provide people, worldwide, with their own reasons to hope and believe, their spirits are once again lifted. 'I say to myself, 'The prophet had my heart in his hands,'' said Trudy Olmstead. 'He did, literally, have my heart and lungs in his hands — but also figuratively. My heart is completely in awe and respect and love for him.' And with each passing year of her own life, Coach Olmstead's 'awe and respect' for her mother — and the risks she made, without hesitation, for her and Nicole — only expand. 'Being able to be with my mom,' she said, 'and to spend Mother's Day with her, and show my gratitude and my love for her, has been special.'

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