Remembering my stepfather, and demanding change.
BY: JACOB POLITTE
Online Editor
Back at the final Presidential debate, before walking viral infection Donald Trump lost his bid for re-election, then Presidential candidate Joe Biden warned that a dark winter was coming when it came to the coronavirus pandemic. I wished that he was wrong.
He wasn’t.
As of press time, over 500,000 American citizens are now dead because of COVID-19. My stepfather, Mike, is one of them. He was 75.
Not everyone has the same experience, but Mike unfortunately had a rough time almost right off the bat. He caught the virus in early December, and had to be hospitalized for weeks because of it. He had pre-existing health issues, and the virus only worsened those and added more. He came home a shell of his former self, and when he left for the hospital again a week after, he never came home again.
I don’t think it’s too much of a shock to tell you all that the specific details of what happened in December and January are extremely hard to write about. It’s actually painful to relive it, and I’m going to try not to get too far into the horrifying details.
I watched my biological father, who passed away from cancer when I was nine years old, wither away over the course of two years in hospice care. In the end, I can honestly say that Mike’s decline from COVID was far worse to experience, as well as far more rapidly accelerated.
In his final weeks, in addition to new health concerns that were brought on by the damage done to his body, his lungs were essentially eradicated by the virus. No amount of oxygen would ever be able to heal them. Even a ventilator would have done no good… he would have never come off of it.
We were allowed to visit him at the hospital in the few days before his passing. When I saw him, he looked so incredibly different. So incredibly frail. I’ll never get that image out of my head.
There’s one scene too, before the cycle started, that I’ll probably never get out of my head either. It was before he got his test result, and I distinctly remember how afraid he became when he realized he’d been exposed. The normally loud and confident man looked at me with genuine fear and quiet resignation in his eyes. Like he knew his time was about to be up.
When we got his official diagnosis, we knew the virus could do some major damage, but we were not prepared for just how much havoc it would end up reaping before his passing. After nearly 8 weeks and two hospital stays, when it became clear that there was nothing more that could be done to help him live a productive quality of life, Mike made the choice to stop all treatment, and passed away three days later.
It was an absolutely horrible way to die. And one that I know he absolutely detested.
Above all else, even at his age, he didn’t like not being able to do things for himself. He didn’t want to die in a hospital, alone and afraid and unable to fend for himself.
He and I didn’t always have the best relationship, but he always wanted the best for me. Among other things, he’d even take me to the bus stop so I could make it to campus sometimes. The trek to Meramec will just feel a little more empty now.
He deserves to be remembered as so much more than as a part of a staggering, unnecessarily high statistic. He was a person who many people cared about, from his family to his friends to his favorite dog, Diego. He should still be here right now, and it feels so incredibly wrong that he isn’t.
It feels so wrong to see my mom, who has now lost two people she loved, be alone on Valentine’s Day. Moreso than my own feelings of grief, I feel so bad for her.
I’ve spent the last two months with COVID on my mind at nearly every moment. It has penetrated every faucet of my existence, against my will. It’s not because I’m afraid of catching the virus; even after all of this and seeing my stepfather lying nearly unrecognizable in a hospital bed, I’m not.
But it is exhausting, and it’s disgusting to realize just how preventable all of this could’ve been. This is especially true when it comes to sitting down to check out the news every single day.
And the news makes me angry.
I know better, but I can’t help it. I’m looking for someone, something to blame. And the truth is, there are probably a couple of different people or places that I could justifiably blame for what happened. But there’s one thing about all of this that really sits wrong with me: how political it all seems.
Forget Donald Trump and every stupid, moronic conspiracy theory that came with him. His inaction made everything worse, but he’s gone now. Good riddance. But as far as our elected officials that are still in power?
Missouri is ranked near the bottom of the barrell when it comes to vaccine roll-out. It’s nearly impossible for people in the area to get one as of press time. Mass vaccination centers are present in the state, but they are far out of reach for those in the metro area unless you work in a healthcare job.
There’s no sugarcoating it: that is inexcusable. It’s flat out unacceptable. It is an indictment on our Missouri state government, and it is an indictment on Missouri governor Mike Parson’s ability to lead.
Parson himself contracted the virus last summer, and while he turned out ok, it is insulting that he hasn’t done more to combat the spread of it in Missouri. He instead has focused on criticizing his detractors and brushing off any criticism. I may be more biased than most, but it needs to be said: that is not what a leader does and that is not how a leader acts.
Not that it matters to the state at large. It seems like it doesn’t take much to get elected to public state office in Missouri if you’re a republican, no matter what your education level or political track-record is like. Parson never finished college after trying multiple times, and well, his poor political track record speaks for itself. Yet he’s ascended to the state’s top position of power, during the absolute worst possible time.
On behalf of my stepfather, and for any of those in Missouri whose COVID-related death could have been prevented had our state government done their job effectively, I don’t urge Parson and other government leaders to do better.
I demand it.
It’s too late for my stepdad. But it is not yet too late for many others. I hope that the vaccine becomes more widely available to the public, and I hope the public at large decides to get vaccinated. Not only because it’s the responsible and safe thing to do, but because it can genuinely save your life and the lives of those around you.
What happened to Mike was not an isolated incident. Many other families across the nation and the world have experienced something similar.
But I do hope that Mike’s final weeks serve as a cautionary tale to anyone reading this. Not because you should be afraid of the virus, but because you should be aware of the damage it can cause, and take the responsible steps necessary to prevent it.
