Henry Hansen Story
After that he just seemed to go downhill even faster. He began to lose 5 lbs a week. Also, he began to sell off his toys. That's when I knew how bad things really were. His horse--his beloved Angel. How he cried when they picked that animal up--yet we were both satisfied that Angel got a good home (you have to be careful selling a horse to strangers--cheap--because they are worth more as dog food) but this was a friend of a friend with acreage in Estacada. Then went the horse trailer, his vacation trailer, boat, bike, oh what else? His forklift had sold in 1989, but whatever he had left he tried to dispose of, except guns, which I still have. Every time I threaten to sell those guns my kids say no-no-no. They all seem to want one or the other. In any case they are in a locked safe and I can't get in it so I guess that will have to be taken care of when I die or down size, whichever comes first. Dean bought most of the builders stuff though surely it was well worn and old, including the trucks. He and Hank bought and sold and traded trucks without any difficulty.
It was at this time we had our first real emergency. Hank was cracking our walnut crop and eating the small pieces. I went into the bedroom to get away from the TV, rest a bit, and closed the door. Suddenly I could hear him struggling to breath. Over the TV and the radio, he burst into the bedroom for help and I tried, then simply called 911. In about 4 minutes they were there. By that time he was breathing but with difficulty. So they transported him to Meridian Park Hospital. I drove over and he had cleared his air passage of the small nut piece and was fine. That happened over and over. We were given a session with a breathing specialist and I learned what to do (If you hold the chin up and back it clears the passage way). Mostly I was able to keep him calm which helped more than anything. We never knew when it would happen. Several times he burst into the bedroom very early in the morning with that dreadful sound of choking or struggling to take air into his lungs. His throat could no longer control the air passages automatically. He became fearful of getting too far from me so if I had anywhere to go, he had to go also, and yet he was still driving his truck-loved to go out to McDonalds or various other places for lunch and especially liked to go to Country Buffet for dinner. He was still chopping wood also--couldn't raise his arms but could 'fling' them upwards. His legs were good.
When he had his regular exam with Dr. Nutt in May, they were amazed and alarmed. It had been 3 months since he had been their guinea pig at OHS and they swore they had seen nothing amiss then. But now tests were made and we were to return in 2 weeks for results. They knew what he had but were reluctant to tell him. In June we learned what it was. ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) or better known as Lou Gehrig's disease. They asked him if he knew what that meant and he said yes he did--that it meant that he was terminal. Then he became very emotional (which he had been for some time) and tried to speak but couldn't. He just desperately wanted to say something and could not. Finally I said that I could speak for him. I said "Hank is not afraid to die, he is afraid of being helpless and having to be cared for." And he shook his head strongly "yes!" And that is how he felt that ALS was a blessing. He no longer had the dread of living in a body that wouldn't work, with a strong heart that wouldn't stop.
That was a dreadful day--and yet we were given confirmation that we were being 'looked out for' and surrounded by loving and caring family, friends and strangers! On the way home we made a stop at our bank, over by Albertson's. As I pulled out onto Durham road I heard or felt, or both, a tire blowout. The car handled OK and there was no place to pull over so I went on. The first place I could pull to one side, off the street, was almost to 98th, a private driveway. I drove in, still feeling nothing too amiss and right behind me a man came running up. He reached me before I could get out of the car. He said "you have a flat tire and I will change it for you." He had seen it happen and followed me, parked his big truck in the middle of the street. He would take no money and I could scarcely speak for the emotions that overtook me. Not only that, but Jan Hall was right behind him and she stopped also and waited, then followed us to Les Schwab's to make sure we didn't have further trouble. Hank said to the tire man "put 4 of your best tires on"--again saving me problems down the road. Those old tires weren't bad--we had just ran over a nail.
We were weary and heartsick and hardly knew what to do next. Our home had become a very busy "people" place those last months and now it became even more so. Jan went straight to a telephone and called various friends. There is one more story I must add to this narrative and it did happen on that same dreadful day. It is an example of Hank's indomitable spirit and also his sense of humor. To tell it , I have to go back to one of our trips with Gordon and Dian Leth. We were camping in an unfamiliar campground at the beach. We had our trailer and were playing cards and enjoying the fun and nonsense (this was in happier years). The men had to go to the restroom and struck out to find one through the brush. We could hear them floundering about, so Dian opened the door and gave them a bad time and then said "I think they are holding hands" and continued to laugh at them for the rest of the trip about it--never let them forget it, really.
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So back to that terrible day of June, when we had just been given the verdict of ALS. Gordon was working out of town (Spokane, WA) but knew of our doctor appointment. That evening he called to find out what we had learned. Hank answered the phone and told him he had AIDS. Gordon said "AIDS?" How could you have AIDS?" And Hank said "I got it from holding hands with some guy going to the restroom."
We wanted to cry and did, but also we had to laugh. Hank couldn't be completely serious. Tears were very close to the surface however and each morning he would wonder about who would come 'today' and there was never a day when our family, friends and neighbors didn't appear-some to work, some to hug him and express love and good byes unsaid, some to play games or just watch him. He had begun to play solitaire. I didn't know that he knew how. At night when he couldn't sleep he played the hours away. Some came to share their interests and talents. Paul Wideberg brought his guitar and sang some songs he had written. John Thomas spent many hours going through a scrapbook of memories that I had made for him, reading the same letters, etc., over and over. Ken V. came one day a week and stayed with him while I got out to shop or keep appointments. Whatever we had to do. Hank was fearful of being out of my sight since the choking had become a real problem. Most everyday he would get something down the wrong pipes and it was dreadful. I did what he needed to have done and that was hold his chin high and talk calmly until he could regain his breath. I taught Ken what to do but he never had to. Susan also stayed with him a few times. We quit going to Church as he was afraid of choking on the sacrament. Also he just could not sit very long. We tried a time or two and he sat in the foyer. He did miss Church.
Our family came to our aid. David and Dean brought in a hospital bed that gave him some help sleeping--raised in places he found comfortable. It (the bed) belonged to Jackie, who Hank always called "my favorite daughter-in-law," which was considered a joke since she was (at the time) our only daughter-in-law. But that was beside the point--she WAS our favorite daughter-in-law! My mother had nagged at Hank for 40 years to put a railing on the stairs to the back door and the basement and he never even considered it. But now the boys did it for him. We were so afraid he would stumble on those stairs! They also put an air conditioning unit in the bedroom window and what a struggle it was since the window hadn't opened for years. They cut down the bushes and did whatever was needed.
He never quit chopping wood and stacking it all over the place. He couldn't lift the ax above his head but he could throw it up there and it would come down on its own. Much of that wood those last weeks was not more than twigs.
On his 66th birthday, July 4,1993, the family, or more accurately David and Jackie, gave him one last party and invited everyone they could think of. Friends from everywhere. We kept this from him and he woke that morning wondering if we were going to do 'anything' for his birthday (I think he had a party every one of his 66th years coming on the day it did). One of his brothers called with apologies because he would miss the party, so he caught on and was pleased! When we got to David and Jackie's home (that beautiful, big home in West Linn) we discovered only David. Jackie was in the hospital with a badly broken leg. She had fallen off a ladder while cleaning a chandelier and had a break that required surgery and pins and steel plates in her ankle. Yet would not let the party plans be canceled. What a crowd came. He had become too emotional to talk very much--the tears were so close. He had accepted his situation and wanted to talk about it but we discovered that almost no one is willing to talk about death. He wanted to know what to expect and was fearful of choking to death. The one person who was able to offer real comfort was our niece Donna Champion. She was a nurse and was willing to not only talk to him about it, she had experience in the very thing he needed to know and understand. The use of the morphine drip--a machine that administers the drip that brings the patient comfort and sleep, which also allows the body to quit fighting. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He told me one day just what he wanted for his funeral and then when he tried to tell Bardell what he wanted him to say or do, Bardell couldn't handle it--assured him he had a lot of time yet to make those plans. This was (about) July 21st. The Ward had great plans to have a 24th of July party, the day being a pioneer day and falling on a Saturday. They were going to honor him--present him with the "Hansen Field" sign. But John became alarmed at his deterioration and took care of that at the birthday party. So they were going to put his name on the Barbecue pit (which of course he had built), sing some special songs written for him and make him marshal of the parade. Whatever else they could think of to honor him. I kept telling them to make no plans for him being there-that he really wasn't up to it.
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