MY WIFES DEATH chapter 253

As it has most likely become painfully obvious to the few of you still attempting to follow my blog, I am no longer making entries. The time has come to bring it to an end. There will be 2-3 entries following this one in order to deal with the major events of my life.

I am currently writing a book and am on a deadline. I fine that I cannot write in both places and keep up the pace. Then there is the issue of this old man’s eyes getting tired.

In fairness, I was never sure what I was going to do regarding my story after I left Canby, but here’s a summary.

My wife dies on Fathers Day in 1992. Her diagnosed illness was short lived. We knew her breathing was becoming more difficult in the fall of 1991. We were repeatedly told it was asthma, but she responded to none of the treatment. In January of 1992 we were finally referred to a specialist and told it was emphysema and informed there was no cure. We were told is was likely she had at least two years to live.

It was obvious that she was going to need more care than my traveling was going to allow. Sensing this, I turned down the job I had always wanted for two reasons: 1) it would increase my travel, and 2) it would removed us from a very good support group. I wanted to be home nights to care for her and her friends would come around her when necessary. They were so wonderful I could not bear to take her out of the environment.

When an opportunity came up to apply for the job as job as executive pastor at Salem Alliance, I believed it could work. I would be home most nights and we were close enough to Canby to have her support continue. We candidated at Salem at the end of April. She went to the hospital the next with pneumonia. After two days there, she returned home. Everything appeared better until the a week before Father’s Day. She appeared to be getting pneumonia again on Friday. On Saturday friends John and Donna Barach arrived for a visit. Donna and Della had been childhood friends and we were all in Bible College together. Clearly we could all see that she was no feeling well, but being a very stubborn lady, she refused to rest or leave her guest or ask them to leave. She wanted the there.

After they left (early then planning), I told her I was going to take her to the hospital. She refused. I felt like I would have had to knock her out and carry her to the car. I accepted it, but told if that if she was not better on Sunday, she was going. She was worse. At the hospital they eased her pain a bit and said they were going to do a biopsy Monday morning. I was with her early on Monday staying until she was taken for the biopsy. I told her I was run some errands that needed to be done and be back when they brought her to her room.

When returning, I was taken to ICU. I was told she was not year ready to be moved and that the doctor would come and talk to me. I had returned to the hospital be 1:00 and was the only one in the waiting room. The doctor did not come out until 4:30, Meanwhile, I am watching a lot of equipment being taken into ICU and it didn’t take long to believe it was for Della.

Eventually, the doctor came and told me that her lungs has collapsed droning the tests and she was on a ventilator, but she would never be able to breath on her own. She doubted Della would survive more than a day or two. She never spoke to me again after I kissed her, said goodbye and told her I would see her later.

She passed away the following Sunday as I was returning to the hospital after sleeping that night. Her mother, brother and sister were at the house.

Rod was living on the streets of Portland and during that week, people from the church searched Portland try8ing to find him. He had a certain look and they approached everyone with a similar appearance and asked if they knew Rod please give him a message to call his father. He got back to me, but would not come to see her. After she passed away, we found him again and asked him to come to her funeral. He refused, but showed up in time.

I had resigned at the district and was to begin in Salem in September. I had two responsibilities left. Family Campo was first, but it pretty well ran its self. Many stepped in to help. The other was administrative director for LIFE 92. At that point in time I one wrote down what others needed to know. I had normally stored my part in my head and had done that with a great many details of LIFE 92. Rob McCelland, a good friend and former pastor in our district flew out and spent a week with me to glean the details and get them on paper. I could not have done it without him. I was still deeply stunned by Della’s death. Rhonda and Chris came to help out. They were not yet engaged.

That August, I took both my kids to New York and the east coast to build new memories. They were new alright. While Rhonda and I had a good time, Rod separated from us and told us he was not coming back. We left him and returned, but my heart was broke.

NEXT: Rodney’s life