We buried Fred today.
He and Diana are the oldest friends with have. No, I said that wrong, but you know what I mean. Fred was wounded during his stint in Viet Nam. Purple Heart worthy. He was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma about ten years ago. We thought we were going to loose him then, but an experimental treatment sent it into remission for several years.
Earlier this year he grew some abnormal lumps near the lymph nodes in his neck. They removed the bumps the day after the doctor saw them: Merkle Cell Carcinoma. The doctor had never seen a case Merkle Cell Carcinoma much less the two diseases together. He started Fred on an aggressive series of treatments: radiation sessions on his neck and lower face and chemo at the same time. The doctor wanted to hit it with both barrels. Fred was feeling poorly for a while there. He'd have to go in to get his blood checked three times a week, and depending on the results get an infusion of platlets or a transfusion of whole blood, and occationally both.
He managed to keep his wits about him most of the time and his sense of humor never failed him. P drove him to many of his doctor and hospital appointments. One time she made a left turn with a little less margin than usual regarding oncomming traffic and jokingly told Fred she wasn't worried because, it was his side [if there had been an accident, the oncomming car would have hit Freds side of the car]. Fred replied, Thats OK, I'm half dead already! and laughed.
Fred was responding to the treatment. The doctor was impressed with the progress he had made, it looked like the treatment was working. Fred started into the third round of chemo in late August. Early Saturday morning, August 26th we got the call from Diana, she had gotten up and found him in the bathroom, ice cold. He had passed away sometime during the night.
Late this morning there was a service in the Willamette National Cemetary complete with military honors: a three volly [gunfire] salute, the playing of taps in the distance and the presentation of a US flag to the widow in recognition of the service to and sacrifice for his country. It was a moving cermony, the first of its type I'd experienced.
Fred had the last word, though. Per his instructions as the service ended and everyone milled about talking, remembering and catching up, the Creedence Clearwater Revival song, Bad Moon Rising blared from the boombox that earlier played the somber Nearer My God To Thee and the Navy Hymn.
So, in his honor, we are raising our glasses and wishing him godspeed. Our thoughts go out to his widow, daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren, and the rest of his extended family.
You will be missed, Fred, but never forgotten.
