Last August Dick asked me to write his life sketch, which I did two days before his passing:
Richard Warren Hoyt was born on May 28, 1947 in Sunnyside, WA, the second of three children born from the 1941 marriage of Gwen Chambers and Warren Hoyt. Dick’s sister Joanne is five years older than he, and his sister Sherry is two years younger.
Dick, or “Dickie Boogie,” as he was called by close family members, got off to a less-than-ideal start in life. Soon after he was born, he began to have serious problems with his digestive system. As an infant, it seemed nothing he swallowed would agree with him. Our frantic parents consulted doctors who tried everything from mother’s milk, evaporated milk and goat’s milk, to soy formula, each without success.
At the tender age of nine weeks, Dick – then a very sick baby – was hospitalized in Yakima, WA. He was immediately pumped full of fluids to rehydrate him and provide him with some much-needed nutrition, just in the nick of time to spare his young life. At nine weeks his weight was barely above his original birth weight. While in the hospital, Doctors discovered Dick had a birth defect known as pyloric stenosis. In laymen’s terms, this is a blockage between his stomach and small intestine, allowing little or nothing to pass from his stomach to digestive system. His tiny body was getting only minimal nourishment and hydration, barely enough to sustain his life. The problem was immediately corrected with surgery and Dick’s health began to improve.
During his childhood, Dick’s family moved several times between the Yakima Valley in Washington State and Grants Pass, Oregon. Dick attended elementary school in Grants Pass until during the fifth grade his parents relocated to La Sierra, California. He completed elementary school at La Sierra Elementary and graduated from La Sierra Academy in 1966.
After his academy graduation, Dick attended La Sierra College where he met and fell in love with the lovely Irma Faye Nielsen. Dick and Irma were married in July of 1968 in Placerville, CA. They produced two beautiful children, Joylin born in 1970, followed by Kenny who joined the family in 1974.
Ten years later Dick had moved his family from Thousand Oaks, California to Eureka. In 1984 they were dealt an unexpected blow when Irma was diagnosed with both multiple sclerosis and malignant melanoma. Within five years after being diagnosed with cancer, Irma passed to her rest at their home in Napa just three months before her 41st birthday. But as cancer often does, it had robbed their family of a wife and mom many months prior to the day she took her final breath.
As time went by following the loss of his beloved wife, Dick’s heart began to yearn for the comfort and companionship of a partner who would share his life. One Saturday evening at a get-together for Christian singles in Napa, a beautiful redhead across the room caught Dick’s eye. This lovely single mom of three was Nancy Jean Johnson, formerly Nancy Howlett, who had grown up [of all places] in La Sierra. Dick and Nancy were married on December 16, 1989 and moved their blended family into a home in St. Helena, CA. Dick welcomed the role of step-dad to Nancy’s three children, and truly regarded Mindy, Michelle and Tristin as “his kids.” He dearly loved each of them and thought of them as his own. In 1994 Dick and Nancy moved their family into the former home of EvaBelle Winning located on Eastern Avenue in Angwin, where Dick lived out the remaining days of his life.
Dick’s love for cars began very early in his life. At age three, though he was still insistent on having a bottle for naps and bedtime, he begged Mom and Dad for a car with “piddles.” He called it a “Jeep Car,” one that he could pedal. Mom repeatedly told Dick that since only babies drink from a bottle, he would have to wait for his Jeep Car till he was a big boy who could do without his bottle.
Then one day it happened. Dick tossed his bottle out of the crib and it broke. Mom told him that was it – he had broken the bottle and there were no more to be had. Rather than fussing or being upset at the thought of giving up his beloved “Bock-a,” as he called it, his response was: “Good, now I can have a Jeep Car!” And have it, he did.
That was just the beginning of Dick’s fascination with cars, especially those of the Mopar variety. At one point, there were more than 20 vehicles lined up on his property, mostly Mopar, of course. This was much to the chagrin of his neighbors, who didn’t necessarily share the enthusiasm for his car collection. Eventually, a tall fence and a big beautiful shop provided the privacy needed to house (or should we say, hide) his prized collection of cars. To name just a few, he restored a beautiful red 1963 Plymouth Sport Fury. He also had a gorgeous 1950 DeSoto coupe, and a 1928 Model-A RatRod that he put together with his own two hands, powered by a ferocious Chrysler Hemi engine. They were his passion, his pride and joy!
One day in late April of 2007 Dick began to experience some concerning symptoms. He had numbness on the right side of his face, along with other symptoms often associated with suffering a stroke. Emergency Room tests revealed a “mass” in Dick’s brain just above his left ear, a tumor which was surgically removed on May 7, 2007. At the time, surgeons reported that they were successful in removing approximately 90% of the tumor. Two weeks later the pathology reports identified the tumor as a Glioblastoma Multiforme Grade IV. GBM, as it is called in the medical community, is the most aggressive form of brain cancer. The doctors further revealed that the disease is almost always fatal, and estimated his life expectancy to be somewhere between six and 24 months.
After diagnosis, Dick graciously endured the discomfort of radiation treatments and some 17 long months of bi-weekly infusions of various mixtures of chemo medications, which caused nausea and extreme fatigue. However, the treatments seemed to keep the monster at bay, at least for a time. Through all of this, Dick’s spirit and courage were astounding. He almost never complained. He maintained his sense of humor, and would often say, “Well, it is, what it is. You simply have to play the cards you’re dealt.”
In January of this year Dick’s health began to visibly deteriorate, quickly reaching a point where his body could no longer tolerate the toxic effects of the chemo treatments. After his diagnosis in May of 2007 just prior to his 60th birthday, he fought courageously for almost two years.
Dick loved life and many things in his life. He loved his work as a welding fabricator. He adored his family – his wife and kids. He doted on his grandchildren, Sean and Annika. He loved tinkering with cars and building things – fences, gates, dune buggies, trailers and the like. Dick loved history; and he loved to read. He loved to watch football on TV and enjoyed watching “Law and Order,” and “Survivor,” or ancient “Perry Mason” shows from the 1950’s. He would howl with laughter at the antics of Deputy Chief Brenda Lee Johnson in his favorite episodes of “The Closer.”
Dick was a Mexican food fanatic. Family members often sympathized that poor Nancy was never able to dine out anywhere but in a Mexican restaurant. Dick always said he could survive almost anywhere, as long as the town had a good Mexican restaurant, a Barnes & Noble, and a gourmet coffee shop.
Growing up in a home where making music or listening to music was the primary form of entertainment, Dick always loved music – Big Band 40’s music. And he loved to sing or whistle along with his favorite CD’s. He had an excellent ear and could harmonize with almost anything – a chair squeak, a train whistle – anything. But as he grew older, his true love was Gospel music. Every Friday night and most of the day on Sabbaths Dick and Nancy enjoyed worshipping with their favorite Gaither Vocal Band and Signature Sound gospel music videos. They attended several live Gaither concerts together (one just three days after his brain surgery in May 2007).
Dick had a wonderful sense of humor, but he was an extremely practical man. He hated waste, he disliked horseplay and nonsense. He readily spoke his mind, and hated dishonesty or anything that seemed unjust or unfair. He hated paper plates! He hated being cold – he would sit on the couch, wrapped in his favorite blanket and wearing his Sopwith Camel fur-lined leather helmet. He didn’t like unnecessary noises. He couldn’t tolerate ticking clocks when he was trying to sleep. And he never wanted to hear about anything that was depressing or negative in any way, or anything that even closely resembled gossip – He just didn’t want to hear it. He liked to keep things simple, honest and uncomplicated.
During the final months of his illness, Dick developed an increased appreciation for life’s small wonders. He would marvel over the breathtaking beauty of a rose, or the juicy tomatoes from his garden; a butterfly, or the hummingbirds at the feeder. Then there was the walnut that Dick found sprouted in a bag hidden in a dark corner of his garage. Profoundly touched by the little sprout’s tenacity and will to live, Dick rescued the infant tree and named it Earl. Last summer Earl was permanently planted with much pomp and ceremony in a sunny spot in Dick & Nancy’s back yard.
Dick loved to visit the neighbor’s chickens, and often worried whether they might be in need of water or food. He and his sisters named the chicks, thoughtfully assigning a name that seemed appropriate to the personality or appearance of each little hen. While he was able, Dick would go with his sisters every day to take table scraps to “The Girls,” as he called them, and he’d sit for a time where he could watch them pick and scratch, and listen to them coo and cluck, or squabble over a crust of bread or a discarded leaf of lettuce. His favorite chicks, Maude, Tallulah, Ellen, EvaBelle, Rocky, and Connie have surely missed Dick’s daily visits.
Most notable of all is that Dick loved Jesus. He regarded having a terminal illness as something that simply brought him “one step closer to heaven.” We who love him so dearly and will remember him always are eagerly awaiting the day when we can one day be together again with him in heaven – What a day that will be!
Dick passed to his rest on March 19, 2009. He was preceded in death by his dad, Warren Hoyt, in 1997, and leaves a void in the lives of his beloved wife, Nancy; his children, Joylin and her husband Rob and their children, Sean and Annika of Napa; Kenny and his wife Arlene of Burlingame, CA; Mindy of Mt. View, CA; and Michelle and Tristin, both of Napa. Also surviving are his mother, Gwen Hoyt, of Hillsboro, OR; his two sisters – Joanne Ault of Castle Rock, WA, and Sherry Britz of Hillsboro. He will also be profoundly missed by his three beloved kitty cats, Olivia, Mopar and Fritzie, not to mention a little walnut tree named Earl.
See you in the morning, Dick!
MY TEXT FOR TODAY (Also used at Dick's service yesterday): Revelation 21:1-5 (NIV)
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be his people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
How do we play the final quarter of the game?
So... Here I sit in my warm cozy home, with my tummy full of good food and, in spite of my many undeserved blessings, I've never been more uncomfortable in my life. At this moment my darling brother is literally dying as I sit here at my computer. It looks as though his life is counting down to mere days, possibly even hours. I don't know whether to scream or cry or what, so I just sit and stare into space. It's so totally weird and scary to think of him not being there. He's been there almost as long as I can remember (I was 5 when he was born). I took that for granted most of my life - not any more!
Fortunately so far, far Dick has suffered very little pain in connection with his brain cancer. However, today's report was that Dick awoke at 2 a.m. last night complaining extreme pain in his head. Nancy gave him pain medication and they went back to sleep. My mom and sis called mid morning to check on things and Dick was especially bright and alert. They were able to have an actual conversation with him and were so pleased he was doing so well. But when I heard that news, I said to my husband that I hope this isn't the "rally" just before the end. This happens so many times in cases of this type.
Early this afternoon Dick again expressed that he was in excrutiating pain, so Nancy summoned the hospice nurse who administered morphine to quiet the pain. The nurse told Nancy that he probably only has a few days left.
Totally surreal! This is the time we've dreaded for nearly two years, and even spent much of that time in complete denial, pretending it could not possibly actually happen. In a way it's sad and horribly frightening, but in another way it's almost a relief to know that he may not have to suffer much longer. This is so hard and so awful!
Please pray for strength for us who love him so dearly, and for God's perfect will in his life. Also, please pray for my beloved friend, Sonna, and her precious Daddy who, too, is nearing the end of his earthly life.
I love and need you all.
Joanne
Fortunately so far, far Dick has suffered very little pain in connection with his brain cancer. However, today's report was that Dick awoke at 2 a.m. last night complaining extreme pain in his head. Nancy gave him pain medication and they went back to sleep. My mom and sis called mid morning to check on things and Dick was especially bright and alert. They were able to have an actual conversation with him and were so pleased he was doing so well. But when I heard that news, I said to my husband that I hope this isn't the "rally" just before the end. This happens so many times in cases of this type.
Early this afternoon Dick again expressed that he was in excrutiating pain, so Nancy summoned the hospice nurse who administered morphine to quiet the pain. The nurse told Nancy that he probably only has a few days left.
Totally surreal! This is the time we've dreaded for nearly two years, and even spent much of that time in complete denial, pretending it could not possibly actually happen. In a way it's sad and horribly frightening, but in another way it's almost a relief to know that he may not have to suffer much longer. This is so hard and so awful!
Please pray for strength for us who love him so dearly, and for God's perfect will in his life. Also, please pray for my beloved friend, Sonna, and her precious Daddy who, too, is nearing the end of his earthly life.
I love and need you all.
Joanne
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Hello-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o, out there…
Yes, I’m still alive and kicking, in spite of the many weeks of silence. I’ve been experiencing a little period of feeling totally overwhelmed, maybe even disoriented, like I’m clinging to a tiny chunk of bark in a spinning whirlpool. I think I’m finally beginning to get my feet to touch solid ground once again.
My sis and I flew home on February 6, planning to remain at home until after Spring Break. We were scheduled to fly back to California on March 31, but within a few days after we arrived home, Dick & Nancy called to let us know that they feel we have reached a point in Dick’s illness where they wanted it to be just the two of them for the remaining time Dick may have left on this old dirt ball. At that same time, they invited Mom to head home, as well. We totally understood what they were asking and why they wanted it to be that way. In fact, I think I had secretly anticipated that we would eventually reach that point.
Since we left Dick’s, his cancer has progressed surprisingly fast. Keep in mind we’ve barely been gone a month. At first he began having increased difficulty walking and needed help making it from the couch or his bed to another part of the house (e.g. bathroom, bedroom, etc.). Next he became unable to feed or bathe himself. At that point Hospice was brought into the picture, at first coming twice a week, and now pretty much on a daily basis. At that same time they brought in a hospital bed which has been set up in their living room. He spent his days in the hospital bed so that he could rest, watch TV and yet be part of daily household activities (only as an observer, but at least he wasn’t stuck in the bedroom).
As of last week, Nancy can no longer maneuver Dick into his wheelchair (or whatever conveyance) to move him into the bathroom or to their bedroom at night to sleep in his own bed with her. So he began using a bedside commode (and I doubt he can even sit up to do that any longer, as of this writing), and now spends his time in the hospital bed. Nancy has to sleep with one ear tuned to hear him in case he should need help during the night. Needing help is highly probable since he can’t even turn himself or move in the bed at all. The sad thing is that his mental capabilities are pretty much totally intact, so now he has the dubious pleasure of helplessly lying there watching himself slip away an inch at a time. In the words of one of my dearest friends (a two-time cancer survivor who also lost both parents to the disease) who loudly proclaims, “Cancer sucks!” She couldn’t be more right about that! I pray every day that he won’t wake up to face another day of suffering. Enough, already!
Life sometimes has a way of throwing one monkey wrench after another into the “machinery.” As things have begun winding down toward the worst of conclusions for my precious brother, here comes another critical situation to be dealt with. This past Thursday Darrell awoke from an afternoon nap and told me he felt as if someone were standing on his chest. He wouldn’t let me call 9-1-1, but I did ultimately convince him to let me take him to ER.
Of course, by the time we reached the hospital, his symptoms had subsided. Actually, I was pretty thankful for that! That was just after 4:30 p.m. Five hours later, after undergoing a myriad of tests, poking, prodding, and a buzzillion questions, the ER docs decided to admit Darrell to the hospital's cardiac unit. We were both certain they would just keep an eye on him overnight and send him home the next day, but that didn’t happen. He ended up staying four nights and parts of 5 days. One issue to consider was that Darrell had all of his upper teeth extracted on February 9, and they were concerned that possibly some residual infection had settled into his heart valves. However, tests eventually ruled that out as the cause of the problem.
We were finally able to bring him home last evening (Monday), but only because of the fact that we were already scheduled to see his regular doctor in Portland this Wednesday about another (hopefully unrelated) issue. They did a cardiac stress test on Monday morning before he was discharged and found a slight (10%) blockage in the artery that brings blood to the heart – not immediately life-threatening, but definitely not the best news!
The hospital’s cardiologists recommended that Darrell have an angioplasty, which is where they insert a balloon into the artery to stretch it out and decrease the amount of restriction. So we will take all the test results to Darrell’s primary care doctor tomorrow to see what he recommends. My guess is that there’s an angioplasty in our not-too-distant future.
The original reason for tomorrow’s appointment is to discuss the results of a cranial (head) MRI that Darrell had on March 6 after experiencing some rather scary memory problems over the past few weeks. His mom died of Alzheimer’s, making this problem as concerning to both of us as the cardiac issues are. When it rains, it definitely pours! I’m praying that there’s a less-than-frightening reason for all of this and we can just continue rolling along as always.
Now, I know full well that there are those of you out there whose circumstances have similarly tried to derail your lives – feeling somewhat like Satan has selected you as his favorite target, concentrating his evil arrows specifically in your direction. (Do you sometimes feel like you have a giant bull’s eye painted on your chest?) A couple of you immediately come to mind in that regard.
One reason I have let my blog go for so long is that I feel like there’s not much to say, except to whine all about “poor me” and all of my troubles. But, if there’s any way you can stand to bear with me, unfortunately this is how I process problems and cope with the sticky wickets of life. It has to be SOOOOO boring – you are darling and patient friends to stick with me, in spite of the incessant whining. God bless you for that!
Keep praying!
XOXO
Joanne
MY TEXT FOR THE DAY: Psalm 143 (TLB)
Hear my prayer, O Lord; answer my plea, because you are faithful to your promises. Don’t bring me to trial! For as compared to you, no one is perfect. My enemies chased and caught me. They have knocked me to the ground. They force me to live in the darkness like those in the grave. I am losing all hope; I am paralyzed with fear.
I remember the glorious miracles you did in days of long ago. I reach out for you. I thirst for you as parched land thirsts for rain. Come quickly, Lord, and answer me, for my depression deepens; don’t turn away from me or I shall die. Let me see your kindness to me in the morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for my prayer is sincere. Save me from my enemies, O Lord, I run to you to hide me. Help me to do your will, for you are my God. Lead me in good paths, for your Spirit is good.
Lord, saving me will bring glory to your name. Bring me out of all this trouble because you are true to your promises. And because you are loving and kind to me, cut off all my enemies and destroy those who are trying to harm me; for I am your servant.
Yes, I’m still alive and kicking, in spite of the many weeks of silence. I’ve been experiencing a little period of feeling totally overwhelmed, maybe even disoriented, like I’m clinging to a tiny chunk of bark in a spinning whirlpool. I think I’m finally beginning to get my feet to touch solid ground once again.
My sis and I flew home on February 6, planning to remain at home until after Spring Break. We were scheduled to fly back to California on March 31, but within a few days after we arrived home, Dick & Nancy called to let us know that they feel we have reached a point in Dick’s illness where they wanted it to be just the two of them for the remaining time Dick may have left on this old dirt ball. At that same time, they invited Mom to head home, as well. We totally understood what they were asking and why they wanted it to be that way. In fact, I think I had secretly anticipated that we would eventually reach that point.
Since we left Dick’s, his cancer has progressed surprisingly fast. Keep in mind we’ve barely been gone a month. At first he began having increased difficulty walking and needed help making it from the couch or his bed to another part of the house (e.g. bathroom, bedroom, etc.). Next he became unable to feed or bathe himself. At that point Hospice was brought into the picture, at first coming twice a week, and now pretty much on a daily basis. At that same time they brought in a hospital bed which has been set up in their living room. He spent his days in the hospital bed so that he could rest, watch TV and yet be part of daily household activities (only as an observer, but at least he wasn’t stuck in the bedroom).
As of last week, Nancy can no longer maneuver Dick into his wheelchair (or whatever conveyance) to move him into the bathroom or to their bedroom at night to sleep in his own bed with her. So he began using a bedside commode (and I doubt he can even sit up to do that any longer, as of this writing), and now spends his time in the hospital bed. Nancy has to sleep with one ear tuned to hear him in case he should need help during the night. Needing help is highly probable since he can’t even turn himself or move in the bed at all. The sad thing is that his mental capabilities are pretty much totally intact, so now he has the dubious pleasure of helplessly lying there watching himself slip away an inch at a time. In the words of one of my dearest friends (a two-time cancer survivor who also lost both parents to the disease) who loudly proclaims, “Cancer sucks!” She couldn’t be more right about that! I pray every day that he won’t wake up to face another day of suffering. Enough, already!
Life sometimes has a way of throwing one monkey wrench after another into the “machinery.” As things have begun winding down toward the worst of conclusions for my precious brother, here comes another critical situation to be dealt with. This past Thursday Darrell awoke from an afternoon nap and told me he felt as if someone were standing on his chest. He wouldn’t let me call 9-1-1, but I did ultimately convince him to let me take him to ER.
Of course, by the time we reached the hospital, his symptoms had subsided. Actually, I was pretty thankful for that! That was just after 4:30 p.m. Five hours later, after undergoing a myriad of tests, poking, prodding, and a buzzillion questions, the ER docs decided to admit Darrell to the hospital's cardiac unit. We were both certain they would just keep an eye on him overnight and send him home the next day, but that didn’t happen. He ended up staying four nights and parts of 5 days. One issue to consider was that Darrell had all of his upper teeth extracted on February 9, and they were concerned that possibly some residual infection had settled into his heart valves. However, tests eventually ruled that out as the cause of the problem.
We were finally able to bring him home last evening (Monday), but only because of the fact that we were already scheduled to see his regular doctor in Portland this Wednesday about another (hopefully unrelated) issue. They did a cardiac stress test on Monday morning before he was discharged and found a slight (10%) blockage in the artery that brings blood to the heart – not immediately life-threatening, but definitely not the best news!
The hospital’s cardiologists recommended that Darrell have an angioplasty, which is where they insert a balloon into the artery to stretch it out and decrease the amount of restriction. So we will take all the test results to Darrell’s primary care doctor tomorrow to see what he recommends. My guess is that there’s an angioplasty in our not-too-distant future.
The original reason for tomorrow’s appointment is to discuss the results of a cranial (head) MRI that Darrell had on March 6 after experiencing some rather scary memory problems over the past few weeks. His mom died of Alzheimer’s, making this problem as concerning to both of us as the cardiac issues are. When it rains, it definitely pours! I’m praying that there’s a less-than-frightening reason for all of this and we can just continue rolling along as always.
Now, I know full well that there are those of you out there whose circumstances have similarly tried to derail your lives – feeling somewhat like Satan has selected you as his favorite target, concentrating his evil arrows specifically in your direction. (Do you sometimes feel like you have a giant bull’s eye painted on your chest?) A couple of you immediately come to mind in that regard.
One reason I have let my blog go for so long is that I feel like there’s not much to say, except to whine all about “poor me” and all of my troubles. But, if there’s any way you can stand to bear with me, unfortunately this is how I process problems and cope with the sticky wickets of life. It has to be SOOOOO boring – you are darling and patient friends to stick with me, in spite of the incessant whining. God bless you for that!
Keep praying!
XOXO
Joanne
MY TEXT FOR THE DAY: Psalm 143 (TLB)
Hear my prayer, O Lord; answer my plea, because you are faithful to your promises. Don’t bring me to trial! For as compared to you, no one is perfect. My enemies chased and caught me. They have knocked me to the ground. They force me to live in the darkness like those in the grave. I am losing all hope; I am paralyzed with fear.
I remember the glorious miracles you did in days of long ago. I reach out for you. I thirst for you as parched land thirsts for rain. Come quickly, Lord, and answer me, for my depression deepens; don’t turn away from me or I shall die. Let me see your kindness to me in the morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for my prayer is sincere. Save me from my enemies, O Lord, I run to you to hide me. Help me to do your will, for you are my God. Lead me in good paths, for your Spirit is good.
Lord, saving me will bring glory to your name. Bring me out of all this trouble because you are true to your promises. And because you are loving and kind to me, cut off all my enemies and destroy those who are trying to harm me; for I am your servant.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)