But in February of 1999, he woke up vomiting and with a severe headache. He was diagnosed with cocci meningitis, which meant the valley fever had disseminated into his brain. They had to inject the anti-fungal medications directly into the back of his neck, at first once a month, then once a week. He had more small strokes and other physical and mental issues.
On January 9, 2001, my big, strong healthy husband of 30 years died at age 49, a 144-pound shell of his former self. He left behind four children and two grandchildren. It was just three months shy of our 30thwedding anniversary.
He was able to walk our first daughter, Jennifer, down the aisle as a healthy dad. He walked our second daughter, Amy, down the aisle as a sick dad. But he was not around to walk his baby girl, Stacie, down the aisle. That was his biggest regret. While we were dancing together at Amy's wedding, his eyes filled with tears as he told me he knew he wouldn't be there for Stacie's wedding.
What makes his story especially poignant is that he was a volunteer for the valley fever vaccine trials of the early 1980s. He actually received the vaccine they were testing at that time. Had it been effective, he would be with us still today, enjoying our expanded family of eight grandchildren. He would have been here for Stacie's and our son Steven's wedding, for the college graduations and all the holidays when his presence is missed. This is why the vaccine trials need to continue, so that no more families have to suffer losses like ours and so many others.