Learning lessons from ‘Being Mortal’

Being mortal

I sincerely urge all of you, my dear readers, to sign up today for the upcoming important events being sponsored by Sonoma Valley Hospital and held at Vintage House senior center. These events are to help all adults document their health care wishes before a medical crisis.

Vintage House senior center and Sonoma Valley Hospital are partnering with My Care, My Plan: Speak Up Sonoma County to present two community screenings and discussions of “Being Mortal,” the PBS documentary based on the book by Atul Gawande.

The documentary will be shown from 2 to 4 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 10, at Vintage House, 264 First St. E. A second showing, at the Sebastiani Theatre, is scheduled from 1 to 3 p.m. Sunday, Sept. 13. Robert Cohen, MD, chief medical officer at Sonoma Valley Hospital, will introduce the film, and facilitators from the countywide advance care planning community initiative, My Care, My Plan: Speak Up, Sonoma County, will lead the post-film discussions. Readers’ Books will sell Gawande’s book at a discount at both locations.

Advance health care directive workshops 

To help individuals take action and legally document their treatment wishes, two facilitated workshops on completing an Advance Health Care Directive will be held on Thursday, Sept. 24, and Thursday, Oct. 8, both from 1:30 to 3:30 p.m., at Vintage House. County facilitators will be available to help attendees understand how to complete an advance health care directive.

For information about attending the film screenings or workshops, call Vintage House at 996-0311 or Sonoma Valley Hospital at 935-5257.

I’ve signed up for the Sept. 24 workshop at Vintage House, and Sweetie and I plan to see the film at the Sebastiani on Sept. 13. Will you and your friends join me? I sincerely hope so. 

Thankfully we had a directive 

I recently learned just how important it is to have an up-to-date advance health care directive. Shortly after returning from Portland, Oregon, where we visited our son, Sky, his wife, Amy, and our grandson, Shiloh, my sister Carol called me in a panic. 

“Please come to Jacksonville! Now!” Her husband of 53 years, Curt Wilson, had just suffered a hemorrhagic stroke and was on the way to the hospital in Medford with the EMT team. Since her diagnosis and treatment for breast cancer last year, Carol had been experiencing occasional fainting spells. She no longer drove. Now she was stuck at home while Curt was whisked away to the hospital. 

Bill and I immediately packed up, and took off to Jacksonville, Oregon, just over the border. It was a long, hot, smokey trip and we didn’t arrive until after 9 p.m. that night. Right away, Carol asked if we’d take her to the hospital. 

Covered with tubes and wires 

Curt was in intensive care, covered with tubes and wires, with monitors beeping constantly, watched over by a nurse. The clunky respirator kept a steady beat, slow and rhythmical. Curt was unconscious, but did not look particularly uncomfortable. After an hour of concerned watching, we returned to Carol and Curt’s home, where Sassy the dog (who had witnessed the entire episode: the fall, the prolonged vomiting, and the cessation of breath) awaited Curt’s return. 

The next morning we proceeded to the hospital again, repeating the round trip several times that day, and again each day after, with mounting anxiety. Curt’s condition did not change. 

Alive, but not alive

Finally, after CT scans and radiology images, three doctors joined us to confirm that Curt was in a vegetative state and could not recover. 

Meanwhile, Curt’s younger brother Johnny arrived from Athens, Georgia. He was eager to keep vigil with Curt and sat by his bedside 24 hours a day, keeping in touch by phone with his wife and children back in Athens.

Eventually, we found Curt’s medical directive and, in accordance with his recorded wishes, we extubated him. That is, we pulled out all of the tubes and drains and wires. Miraculously, Curt continued to breathe in a steady rhythm not unlike the ventilator, slow and rumbly. Even after all water and nourishment were removed (again, per his wishes) he continued to live on … for five more days.

His final breath

Finally, late on the fifth day, around 9:10 in the evening, Curt took his final breath, and then was still. Bill and I arrived at his room within minutes. His body was still warm, still pliable. Johnny had just been washing Curt, running ice around his furrowed brow. Within the hour, Curt’s body was cold, as if no life had ever been present. 

It was clear to all of us that whatever was Curt had departed with his last breath. He was gone. But still we sat there a long time to honor his earthly shell. 

It was an incredibly sad and difficult time. Curt’s death was entirely unexpected. He and Carol had been planning the trips they would soon take to celebrate his recovery from last spring’s heart surgery. All of those plans were not to be. 

Celebrating a life

We waited barely a week and then the entire family, the extended Wilson family, the extended Ayers clan and a variety of friends gathered in Eureka (where Carol, Curt and I grew up) to celebrate his life at a memorial. Curt’s medical directive included the music he wanted (Segovia and YoYo Ma), the people who would speak, and where his remains would be interred. While everything ran smoothly, it was all quite painful. Many folks who gathered for the ceremony, some of whom I hadn’t seen in over 40 years. 

One of the things that made this whole ordeal easier than it might have been was Curt’s careful planning. He had completed a thoughtful trust document, including his advance health care directive. With that in hand we knew what he wanted, and we knew what to do. 

Remembering a dedicated educator

Curt was, above all else, a dedicated educator. He began his career as a teacher at Zane Middle School in Eureka, teaching English and journalism. Later he served as principal, administrator, and eventually superintendent at various Northern California schools. Beloved by his family and friends, admired by his students, he was brilliant, thoughtful, and caring. He always made sure that every willing student was given the money to play sports, to attend field trips, and in every other way to participate fully in student life. Many of the school districts that he managed were poor, with a large portion of the student body living in poverty. Curt made sure that those circumstances did not affect their ability to thrive at school. And he encouraged all able students to attend college. He and Carol established a college scholarship for students at Humboldt State University through the Humboldt Foundation in Arcata, California. It is known as the Carol and Curt Wilson Scholarship, funded through their personal trust. 

Beloved brother in law

As for me, Curt was my beloved brother-in-law, who entered our lives when I was only 12 and my brother was just 2 years old. He and my sister met in an English class in Founder’s Hall at Humboldt State. Carol was only 16 at the time, Curt (then known to his Eureka buddies as Freddy) was older, having joined the U.S. Marine Corps right after high school graduation. They dated for several years and were married the summer that Carol was 19. 

I remember that day well, the day before our mother’s birthday, a glorious August Eureka day. After a ceremony at the new Congregational Church in Eureka, we all celebrated with a dinner and dance party at the Finn Hall. At 14, I had my first taste of champagne and danced the night away, wearing a champagne-hued gown made by my Mama. I felt sophisticated and grown-up, though later years would belie that belief. 

Mentor and role model

Curt was not only like a big brother to me (and like a Papa to our little brother Robbie), he was a mentor and role model for me. The long summers in the Ayers family were always spent camping at various Redwood camping spots, generally state parks. Curt happily joined the crew and found he, too, loved camping. Days spent in the river, or hiking melded into evenings around the campfire. That first year, Curt began the tradition of reading aloud to us. Our first introduction was the intriguing novel, “The Time Machine,” by H.G. Wells. We were all fascinated by the tale spun by firelight, giant redwood towering behind and around us. Those were good days. 

Setting out on a path

As summer drew to a close, Curt challenged me to choose an author and read all of his works. Would I like Steinbeck, Hemingway, or someone else? I chose Steinbeck, beginning with an easy read, “The Red Pony,” continuing on until I completed “The Grapes of Wrath” that following spring. After that, I was confident that “adult” books were available to me, and I never looked back. Yes, I tackled Hemingway, thence a variety of scholarly volumes from Kafka to Thackery and more. By the time I graduated from Eureka High and began my freshman year at Humboldt, it was an obvious choice to declare an English major. And later, it was again an obvious choice to become an English teacher in middle school, including teaching poetry and journalism. 

I didn’t follow Curt’s path entirely, having no desire to be an administrator. I saw what a heavy load that had been in Curt’s life and felt that sticking to teaching, which I loved, was the right course. And so it was. Curtis Frederick Wilson is missed by many and remembered with love. 

The Folks in Glen Ellen column also appears online. Look for my column on the Index-Tribune website sonomanews.com under the category Lifestyle. Click on Sylvia Crawford for current and old columns. Want to see your own name in the news? Call or write me at 996-5995 or P.O. Box 518, GE 95442. Or email me at Creekbottom@earthlink.net. Glen Ellen chatter rarely requires timeliness; however, if your news does, please be sure to contact me at least three weeks before your desired publication date.