It wasn’t this past 12 months, but it was a span of about 14 months, from the beginning of August, 2020 until the end of September, 2021. It’s in the rear view mirror now, but I need to write about it.
On August 8 of 2020 I went to Parkwest Hospital in Knoxville because for several days I had been quite uncomfortable, unable to get to sleep at night and having difficulty breathing. Our daughter Sharon was visiting, and Saturday evening I said, “I need to go to the hospital and find out what’s really going on.”
They said I had a pulmonary embolism (blood clot in a lung) and congestive heart failure. By Wednesday I had two stents in my heart, and Thursday I went home wearing a defibrillator vest.
For the past two years I had been caregiver for Joy, my wife of almost 64 years at that time. She had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years previously, and had had two strokes, making it difficult for her to get around. She was still in good shape, but weak and somewhat frail. I was doing the cooking and housekeeping, but she was able to help out. She used a walker to get around, but she counted on me for most things.
As I lay in the hospital, my mind was concerned with Joy. She was dependent on me, and I was supposed to be healthy. I had always been relatively healthy, and, though my heart’s electrical system failed a couple years previously, with a pacemaker I was in good shape. So I thought. Now I had to wonder what would she do if I was gone. Daughter Sharon and son Steve each stayed with us a week or so, until I was able to take care of things again.
My insurance paid for three months of cardiac rehab, going three times a week, so I began that a week later. I had someone drive me there and back for the first few weeks, and some of the women from the church alternated staying with Joy while I was gone. When that was over my cardiologist had me get an echocardiogram. The key number from that was an ejection fraction of 26 — very low. (And that was after the cardiac rehab.)
We were getting along well when on Monday, January 18, around 9:00 or so I was in the office and she in her “woman cave” having her devotions. I went into her room to ask her a question, and she was very confused. I asked her something else, and she was still very confused. I said, “We’re going for a ride.” She went to the bathroom and we went to the car. I drove to our grocery store (about a mile away) and asked if she knew where we were, and she said, “No.” I drove to the church, and she still didn’t recognize anything, so I continued on into Lenoir City, to the Fort Loudoun Medical Center. I told them I thought she might be having a stroke. It didn’t take them long to discover she was having a brain bleed. They said they were sending her to Fort Sanders Medical Center in Knoxville. I called a neighbor and had her bring me a couple of things we needed, and then I drove on to downtown Knoxville to be with Joy. I stayed with her until evening, and then went home, as she was resting.
I got a call in the morning from a doctor who said the bleed was getting worse and that she wouldn’t survive. He said it may be days, but not weeks. I went back to the hospital and stayed with her the rest of the week. She was unresponsive since Tuesday morning, but I talked to her and shared my love, hoping she might be able to hear. Daughter Sharon and son Steve came on Thursday. We all stayed in her room over Thursday night, and Steve and Sharon went back to my house to spend Friday night.
On Saturday, around noon, I told Joy I was going after some lunch, and would bring it back to the room in a few minutes and eat it there. When I got back I sat down in my chair, then got right back up to check on her. She had stopped breathing. Within a few minutes, Pastor Charlie Barnard and his wife Teresa came in. They must have been almost to the parking lot when she died. And then Steve came in. He had left the house earlier, but had to get a tire repaired on the way.
The rest of the kids got there within the next couple of days, and on Wednesday we had the memorial service at the church. It was a memorable event, with Charlie presiding, and son Phil sharing a lot about their Mom. I found a recording from a concert Joy and I had sung in 1989, and I had them play “I’ll Praise Your Name, Lord” from that concert. The family also sang, “Thou Will Keep Him in Perfect Peace,” a favorite of Joy’s from her teen years.
Joy’s body was cremated, and I kept the remains until an appropriate time came for me to take them to Michigan for interment. In late January our friend Frank Barr died suddenly in Indiana. So I went to the funeral, then went on up to Michigan. I contacted a retired pastor friend, Rev. Jeff Myers, who agreed to do the graveside service. The burial was on Saturday, January 24 in Parkview Memorial Cemetery in Livonia, Michigan. Her remains were buried (and mine will be) in the grave of my dad, Hazen McGarvey.
I do not like being alone, and Joy knew that. She had told me a couple of years ago that I had her permission to remarry after she’s gone. Among the people we had known that we still kept contact with was a woman named Wanda Dunkel. We first met her in 1961, when we went to Springfield, Illinois to direct the ministry of Youth for Christ. We had stayed in contact through the years. She had attended three of our children’s weddings. In fact, she baby-sat them when they were very young. She had visited us in all six places we lived after Springfield. And, since she was a nurse, whenever we had medical questions through the years, I would call her. I called her when Joy went into the hospital and when she died.
A few weeks later I called, just to talk. I called her a few more times, and it soon became regular. I began thinking about a possible marriage, and began saying to her, “If you and I would ever end up together…” We decided to marry, and set a date of September 25. I didn’t tell my kids until May 22, four months after their mom had died. They were shocked, because it was so soon. However, we are a loving and supportive family, and they have been totally supportive, whether they thought it was a good idea or not. They knew Wanda, so it wasn’t as if I were marrying a stranger.
Memorial day I drove to Illinois to see Wanda and her house (where we would be living) and to break the news to her family. Since Wanda was 76 years old and had never been married, her family was in shock. Her nieces had no idea she even had a male friend. Her brother knew me, but we hadn’t seen each other in nearly 50 years. She had told her sister, but she had been sworn to secrecy. But they were quick to realize that this was real, and they were onboard.
In the meantime, in August of 2021 I had had another echocardiogram, and my EF was in the low 50s. What a relief! That’s at the low end of the normal range, a far cry from my previous 26.
We had the wedding in Tennessee, but would live in Illinois. My church, the First Baptist Church of Tellico Village, has been such a large part of my life the past 15 years, was the site of the wedding. Following the wedding, we stayed at my house for two weeks, getting it ready to move out of and ready for renters to move into.
Fourteen months, from my heart difficulties, to losing my wife of 64 years, to remarrying and moving about 500 miles — What a Year!
Through it all, I am thankful to God for many, many things.
For 64 years with the woman I loved, and who, together with me, served the Lord and raised four wonderful children who still effectively live for the Lord!
For the manner of Joy’s passing: I had ample notice that I would probably outlive her, with her diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. Her dementia never got to the point that it could have gotten. When she had the brain bleed, she was unconscious for five days, enough to prepare me for what was happening, and the ability to tell her of my love and appreciation, whether or not she heard it. For the fact that she did not suffer, was not in pain.
For the support of our children, their love of our Lord Jesus, for the loving support of all of our family, including my siblings.
For God sending me just the right woman I needed — twice.
For enabling me to survive my heart problems.
For enabling Joy and me, during the Covid pandemic, to spend virtually all of our time together, growing in our love for each other.
by Ken McGarvey