HER FINAL DAYS: FUN-LOVING, SELFLESS & ACCOMODATING TILL THE END!
One of the greatest traits that Joni possessed and displayed throughout her life was being selfless. That's SELFLESS...never selfish! She always put the needs of others above those of her own. As for me personally, she had the knack of being able to push me to excel in everything I did. Never concerned about getting personal accolades (although I always tried to compliment her for her glasswork, her art projects...even being a great cook), at no time was it ever about her; it was always about the other person.
It was a part of her infectious personality...and charming naivety...that was evident until her final breath.
Joni was put on oxygen full-time on March 10 and I can never thank the great folks at Southern Medical Equipment for their professional service and personal “go-out-of-the-way” method of taking care of their clients. Our demands went from a home machine, to tall bottles and to a self-fill canister system. I will forever be grateful to the fantastic staff at SME.
Oxygen depletion had begun to take its toll and I carried a blood oxygen sensor with me at all times. On March 18, Joni drove herself to work at the health department for the final time.
When she was placed on a “double-shot” attack battling her cancer, getting radiation and Optdivo infusions together, our daily schedule would see me taking her to work at 8:00 a.m. I’d get her into the office and at her desk with her oxygen bottles placed by her side. Then I’d leave and come back at 2:30 p.m. each weekday afternoon to pick her up and head to Huntsville for our 3:40 p.m. appointment. We had it figured out to where we had to average 59.5 mph in order to make it in time. Considering we had to get through Guntersville, Hampton Cove and the east side of Huntsville, it was challenging, but we were only late on one occasion.
I will always love Sara Shelton and all the staff who worked with Joni at the health department. They loved her so much and she enjoyed a working environment where everyone there was like family. When I dropped Joni off for work, I never had a clue of just what she could actually contribute to their efforts each day. I do know that it was the most positive “medicine” she could have gotten mentally and I will always be appreciative to everyone working there.
Joni’s final day at work was on Wednesday, April 6. By then, she was requiring both big oxygen cylinders and the refillable canisters. The problem was that the portable canisters, which she could wear and be mobile, were not constant flow and required her to breathe in to activate. What was left of her lungs was just too weak. She had such a difficulty breathing around lunchtime that day and her oxygen level was so low that the EMTs were called to her office.
I had already left home heading to pick Joni up for our trip over to the clinic when I got a call from Sara. “Get here as soon as you can, but don’t be blown away…she’s okay and everything is cool,” Sara said.
The EMT vehicles were parked out in front of the building with the emergency lights flashing away when I arrived. When I went inside, there Joni was…smiling and giving me the peace sign…with 15 office workers and seven EMT guys around her. Somehow, she convinced them that they didn’t need to transport her to the hospital and we were allowed to get in our car and head to Huntsville.
As I drove us over to Clearview, she was constantly texting on her phone and chuckling. Somehow, I didn’t get it. But, because she was laughing, so was I. I finally said, “Okay, what is so funny.” She said, “I’m just so happy I could give all my girls at work such a show! It was like having the Chippendales in there with all the EMT hunks there like that.” For all who knew her, that comment was pure Joni!
We didn’t attempt to do the work schedule on Thursday. I was knee-deep in two different work projects and called in one of “Joni’s Angels,” Ginger Lashley, to help with the transportation. We were so blessed to have Ginger and several others who volunteered to help out and were always there when needed.
I had just finished sending out a release for Myatt Snider (young racer who is like a nephew to me) when Ginger called. She said that all went well with the first part of their treatment, but Joni’s oxygen level had plummeted to the point that the staff had called an ambulance to take her to the Huntsville Hospital ER.
I rushed over to find her already in the ICU. It was explained to me that there was no way she could go home in her current condition. Our home oxygen-making machine could only produce 6 LPM and her requirements were far much more. Her oxygen supply demands would continue to increase dramatically over the next 72 hours.
I knew her final days were upon us and began to reach out to her family members who came into town. (Brother) Barnie and (sister-in-law) Melba came up from Florida first, followed by (sister) Cari from Pennsylvania and (sister) Patti from Tarpon Springs, Fla.
By Saturday, Joni had been moved into a private room and was surrounded by family & friends. Still thinking she was going to get well, she had to endure a brutal tongue lashing from the weekend pulmonary specialist, Dr. Luther Corley. He asked her (not me) point blank: “When you go into cardiac arrest here this weekend, what are we supposed to do?” in a manner of it being a fact that she was there to die. “Do you want us to put you on life support and go through all of that? (“and just prolong the inevitable”… was in his tone).
I have never been so appalled in my life. While it might have been like getting a smack of reality upside the head, I was taken aback from the total lack of compassion this physician had. My immediate thought was, “I’d like to take your heartless ass outside the door and attempt to beat some compassion into you.” The whole scenario was such a massive energy drain for Joni.
In order to satisfy Dr. Corley (and hopefully keep him out of her room for the rest of his weekend stint), I had my attorney Dan Warnes fax him a copy of our living will, which had the legal "no resuscitation" clause in it. I only saw Dr. Corley one additional time again over the next 48 hours and I was able to coerce him into going outside the room to chat. I hope our paths never cross again.
Saturday and Sunday were like a family & friend gathering with so many folks coming and going in her room. She loved visiting with all of them and was totally coherent of what was going on. I used a one-hour period on Sunday as an opportunity to sneak away and walk over across the bridge and visit my dear friend Tommy Mason, who was in HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital.
Joni’s breathing ability continued to decline and her oxygen level number continued to decrease almost by the hour. The oxygen flow was at the maximum…two feeds and a total of 30 LPM. Even though she was weak and dying, she still wanted to be the host for the gatherings.
One by one, she would introduce her friends to the family members. I was concerned about the amount of visitors she had and that her precious “always wanting to be accomodating” trait would totally drain her of all the energy she had left. But she never complained and displayed a "the more, the merrier" attitude. It was her party and we played by her rules.
She was so weak that we had to assist her with the bedpan and actually coached her in keeping her oxygen mask on and to take deep breaths.
We took shifts staying with her during her final few nights on earth. On that Monday, it was evident that it was only a matter of hours before God would take her from us.
Her lead physicians, Dr. Jason Smith and Dr. John Waples (whom she respected and loved greatly) made their rounds late Monday afternoon. In my private consultations with them, they advised us to move on to the "comforting mode." All of the oxygen in the world was just prolonging the inevitable.
Her best friends, family members & I gathered outside the door of her room to discuss our plan for Tuesday. I was to go in by her side at 7 a.m. and explain to her what was coming down. Her oxygen would be removed and she would be allowed to pass peacefully. But it would be a comforting environment that she would appreciate. Her family...her best friends...and even her precious canine companion, MaiTai...would all be in the room by her side when her soul went to heaven.
The group dispersed with the plan to all reunite early Tuesday morning to execute our plan.
I hadn't gotten any sleep to mention in days and Melba volunteered to take Monday night's shift so I could go back to the hotel across the street and try to get some sleep. After all, I knew I was faced with the most difficult task in my life only a few hours later.
In and out of consciousness, she called out loud for me: “Tom, come here!” The only times she ever called me "Tom" were the most serious times during our lives together. This was the direst situation ever and I knew it.
Not wanting to remove the mask to kiss her and deprive her of oxygen, I just crawled into the bed with her and assured her that I was there with her. The goodnight hug she gave me on Monday night was as strong...and long...as any we'd had in our 34-plus years of marriage. She hugged me so hard that I could actually feel her heart beating from her chest into mine.
I went back across the street and sat on the bed trying to come to grips with what was happening. I reached out to my dear friend and forever spiritual advisor, Fr. Dale Grubba. Not only did I want his prayers and advice, I also wanted to ask him if he would officiate Joni's memorial service which I already had in mind for Friday. He gave me comfort and said he would be honored to fly down from Wisconsin to Guntersville and preside over her service.
At 2:30 a.m. on Tuesday, I got a call from Patti (who was also staying at my hotel) that Melba was calling and needed me back over at the hospital immediately.
I threw my clothes back on and ran back across the street to the hospital. When the elevator door finally opened, I sprinted down the hall to Joni's room.
Melba was standing outside the room. She was teary-eyed, yet had a comforting expression on her face. She told me that Joni had taken her final breath at 2:27 a.m., that she went peacefully and it was another example of Joni's love for everyone else...and me in particular.
Melba and I hugged before I went back in to give my sweet wife a final kiss on her forehead.
Joni did not want me to have to face the most difficult task of my life that was planned for later that morning on Tuesday, April 12, 2016.
That was Joni Roberts. She was always so selfless and accomodating till the very end.
Love and miss you always, my little queen!
-TR