David and I farmed and ranched together. In early October, we were sick with Covid, but were recovering. We needed to work calves, which included branding. It was a source of pride for David to always brand his calves, even though he was still sick. In the following days, he continued to get weaker, even though we were self medicating with ivermectin. We were very aware of the hospital situation and wanted to avoid any hospital, but David just was too weak.

The first two weeks of his hospitalization, I wasn’t allowed to see him because I had Covid also. We had discussed remdesivir, but the hospital used their scare tactics and eventually David agreed. They also threatened him with his life when in the middle of the night after my all day visit and he was doing fine, they told him he needed to go on the ventilator.  They called me, and I asked them what other alternatives there were, and the doctor simply said, “heaven!” The doctor told him it was his fault that he needed to be vented, because he went to the bathroom by himself. Otherwise, he’d have been fine.

I figured out early that I had to be nice to the nurses, and not make waves, to keep from having a target on my back. Most nurses and some doctors were kind, but as I watched my soul mate die, every day was a fight with the doctors, one he ultimately lost. I was allowed to be in the room with him for one hour while he was dying, but our two adult children were denied the right to say goodbye to their father. They will never get over that. None of us will.

David was a pillar in our community, on the school board, and other organizations, and was very well thought of, and respected. The large high school gym was filled with people during his visitation and funeral. My children and I are trying our best to keep our farm running and productive, but we desperately miss our husband and father. We now have a beautiful two year old granddaughter that only knows her Papa through photos.