MEMORIAL FUND FOR WILLIAM “FRANK” HAYNES
Donation protected
Help me hang on to Frank’s dream
Those of you who knew my beloved husband Frank are aware of the physical and emotional roller coaster that he lived through these past two years. His otherwise ordinary life was made extraordinary by his will to live, to love, and to eventually let go on his own terms. It also brings to the forefront a reality that the wide swath of Covid-19 brutality isn’t just limited to the deaths caused by this unseen enemy.
Frank had survived a malignant melanoma in his late forties and a 3½ week coma when he was 69. He had outlived all of his 4 siblings and their spouses by the end of 2017. We all believed he had inherited longevity genes from his mother, who died a few months short of 100 years old. But in early 2018, he had his first urinary tract infection and had to be hospitalized with a short stay in rehab. We both realized then that we couldn’t push his luck too far. So I retired in March of that year, and we were scheduled to leave in June for Hawaii to stay with my family.
Frank and I both shared a deep and lifelong passion for writing. In fact, he had a brass plate fastened to his computer monitor frame inscribed with the words: “Dreams to Hold On To, by Wm. Frank Haynes”. We were almost giddy at the thought that we would be spending our retirement years as late-in-life authors!
But less than 2 weeks after I retired, Frank suffered a horrific rogue incident with a CPAP machine that sent him to the emergency room clinging to life. It was touch-and-go for him throughout the month-long stay in the ICU, and he was later discharged to a skilled nursing rehab facility. This was the beginning of his tumultuous journey back to health. Our goal was for him to be able to be independent with his walker before we left for Hawaii. For nearly two years, he endured one setback after another. But he wouldn’t give up, and neither would I. The writer within him would not be denied! In October of 2019, Frank was transferred to another facility with state-of-the-art physical therapy resources for him. He made such promising progress there that we both believed we were finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
How I wish I had a better “rest of the story” than what actually happened. In late February of this year, Covid-19 became THE NEWS that no one could avoid. I had spent the last two years being at Frank’s side for several hours of each day and night, giving him the companionship and emotional support so necessary for nursing home residents. But the urgent need for virus containment started to diminish our opportunities for being together that we had always taken for granted. It started with the facility’s units being cordoned off so we couldn’t travel to other places like the community TV room. Later, all visitors had to sign in and wear masks, and enter and leave through one designated exit. Then the residents could no longer eat in the community dining room, so I had to assist Frank with his meals in the room which he shared with another person. By March 11th, the facility no longer could accept any family or other visitors. From then on, my only communication with Frank was my nightly phone calls to him. We both looked forward to this precious time together, and it would always end with our hopeful prayers. I could sense Frank’s increasing loneliness, isolation, confusion and yes - - perhaps even a smattering of fear since he watched the national news from his room hours on end. But he would always try to put a bright face to all that was happening around him.
My world stopped on March19th with a call from Frank’s nurse saying that the paramedics were giving him CPR. I later learned that everyone was shocked because he had just finished his dinner, taken his meds, and had all his vitals register excellent results. He had no fever or cough, no shortness of breath, nor any other sign of distress. The staff and paramedics worked on him for a full 30 minutes before they had to stop. This was the man who had survived the coma and the horrific CPAP event. Surely he would come through this, they thought. But not this time. Frank was sentient enough to be aware of the risks of congregate living, even with the best precautions. He was obviously vulnerable because the CPAP incident had impaired his lung functioning. Frank’s nurse told me that it was as if he simply closed his eyes and went to sleep. I believe my beloved husband chose for me never to have another nightmare memory of him struggling to breathe while clinging to life. Thank you, my love!
Frank’s passing means starting over, no longer with that comfortable retirement nest egg and now with credit card debts for medical needs that weren’t covered by Medicare. To be sure, your donation is very much needed and appreciated, no matter how much you choose to give. But for however long I have on this earth until Frank and I are reunited, I am committed to his dream - - our dream - - of being the late-in-life authors we had envisioned. God willing, I will finish my manuscript as well as his, and self-publish if necessary to introduce them to the world. The bottom line is that your donation will allow Frank to live on for me. And for that, I cannot be grateful enough. Thank you.
Those of you who knew my beloved husband Frank are aware of the physical and emotional roller coaster that he lived through these past two years. His otherwise ordinary life was made extraordinary by his will to live, to love, and to eventually let go on his own terms. It also brings to the forefront a reality that the wide swath of Covid-19 brutality isn’t just limited to the deaths caused by this unseen enemy.
Frank had survived a malignant melanoma in his late forties and a 3½ week coma when he was 69. He had outlived all of his 4 siblings and their spouses by the end of 2017. We all believed he had inherited longevity genes from his mother, who died a few months short of 100 years old. But in early 2018, he had his first urinary tract infection and had to be hospitalized with a short stay in rehab. We both realized then that we couldn’t push his luck too far. So I retired in March of that year, and we were scheduled to leave in June for Hawaii to stay with my family.
Frank and I both shared a deep and lifelong passion for writing. In fact, he had a brass plate fastened to his computer monitor frame inscribed with the words: “Dreams to Hold On To, by Wm. Frank Haynes”. We were almost giddy at the thought that we would be spending our retirement years as late-in-life authors!
But less than 2 weeks after I retired, Frank suffered a horrific rogue incident with a CPAP machine that sent him to the emergency room clinging to life. It was touch-and-go for him throughout the month-long stay in the ICU, and he was later discharged to a skilled nursing rehab facility. This was the beginning of his tumultuous journey back to health. Our goal was for him to be able to be independent with his walker before we left for Hawaii. For nearly two years, he endured one setback after another. But he wouldn’t give up, and neither would I. The writer within him would not be denied! In October of 2019, Frank was transferred to another facility with state-of-the-art physical therapy resources for him. He made such promising progress there that we both believed we were finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
How I wish I had a better “rest of the story” than what actually happened. In late February of this year, Covid-19 became THE NEWS that no one could avoid. I had spent the last two years being at Frank’s side for several hours of each day and night, giving him the companionship and emotional support so necessary for nursing home residents. But the urgent need for virus containment started to diminish our opportunities for being together that we had always taken for granted. It started with the facility’s units being cordoned off so we couldn’t travel to other places like the community TV room. Later, all visitors had to sign in and wear masks, and enter and leave through one designated exit. Then the residents could no longer eat in the community dining room, so I had to assist Frank with his meals in the room which he shared with another person. By March 11th, the facility no longer could accept any family or other visitors. From then on, my only communication with Frank was my nightly phone calls to him. We both looked forward to this precious time together, and it would always end with our hopeful prayers. I could sense Frank’s increasing loneliness, isolation, confusion and yes - - perhaps even a smattering of fear since he watched the national news from his room hours on end. But he would always try to put a bright face to all that was happening around him.
My world stopped on March19th with a call from Frank’s nurse saying that the paramedics were giving him CPR. I later learned that everyone was shocked because he had just finished his dinner, taken his meds, and had all his vitals register excellent results. He had no fever or cough, no shortness of breath, nor any other sign of distress. The staff and paramedics worked on him for a full 30 minutes before they had to stop. This was the man who had survived the coma and the horrific CPAP event. Surely he would come through this, they thought. But not this time. Frank was sentient enough to be aware of the risks of congregate living, even with the best precautions. He was obviously vulnerable because the CPAP incident had impaired his lung functioning. Frank’s nurse told me that it was as if he simply closed his eyes and went to sleep. I believe my beloved husband chose for me never to have another nightmare memory of him struggling to breathe while clinging to life. Thank you, my love!
Frank’s passing means starting over, no longer with that comfortable retirement nest egg and now with credit card debts for medical needs that weren’t covered by Medicare. To be sure, your donation is very much needed and appreciated, no matter how much you choose to give. But for however long I have on this earth until Frank and I are reunited, I am committed to his dream - - our dream - - of being the late-in-life authors we had envisioned. God willing, I will finish my manuscript as well as his, and self-publish if necessary to introduce them to the world. The bottom line is that your donation will allow Frank to live on for me. And for that, I cannot be grateful enough. Thank you.
Co-organizers (2)
Cathie Agor
Organizer
Mountlake Terrace, WA
Catherine E. Agor
Beneficiary
Katrina Kithene
Co-organizer