Both services were very well done. The number of friends who showed up in support was amazing and a true testament to who Sam was as a person.  He was well-known in the community as a handyman and his daughters Joy and Carol had inscribed on the urn “That’s okay, my Daddy can fix it”.

It was just this past March when we (Sam, Jane, Richard, Amy, Jonathan and I) were celebrating Nokia hiring me back at one of my most favorite restaurants, Sammy’s Woodfired Pizza.  It was also that evening that Sam and Jane told us that the lung cancer was confirmed.I didn’t think too much of it then.  I did some research on the web and read that the survival rate of small cell lung cancer for 2 years was only 30%, but we were talking about Sam!  Hilburne Earle!  Old man!!  I knew Sam would be around for many more years because Sam’s a fighter.

He was a trooper through all the chemo and radiation.  He had lung surgery on Friday, August 22nd and they removed an entire lobe to make sure they got the one spot that was left after the chemo/radiation.  I bought him a little plaque from the hospital gift shotp that said “Vim and Vinegar, Old Age Ain’t For Sissies!“, a Bette Davis saying.  I visited him alone in the hospital one afternoon and we had the best time together.  He was huffing and puffing on whatever that thing was to measure his lung capacity and his spirits were so high.  I knew after my visit that Sam was going to be just fine.

Things seemed to be going well after the surgery at first, but his breathing wasn’t getting any better and his appetite wasn’t coming back.  He went to have it checked out, but was told that there was nothing wrong and that nothing could be done to help with the strain of breathing.  He eventually got a portable oxygen tank to help, but his loss of appetite turned into a loss of 50 pounds since the chemo/radiation started.

I’m not even sure of the date…I think it was either the last Saturday or Sunday of November.  We drove to KFC, picked up some chicken, coleslaw and biscuits and went up to Sam and Jane’s to visit.  Both Richard and I were “startled” to see how thin and frail Sam appeared in his big new La-Z-Boy recliner.  He got up and ate with us and then we took him on a little walk without his oxygen tank, but with the help of a walker.  He seemed much better by the time we left…a small piece of worry started to creep in…but I still knew that Sam would just have to be okay.

Saturday, December 13th, Sam called 911 himself complaining of stomach pains.  He was rushed to the hospital and admitted for testing.  They did a full PET scan, but the results wouldn’t be available until Wednesday, December 17th.  Richard went to visit him that Sunday, but I didn’t go.  I had Jonathan to take care of and I suppose I was in denial and fighting the inevitable every step of the way.

Wednesday, December 17th, Jane and Joy accompanied Sam to the doctor’s office to get the results of his PET scan.  He packed a bag because he knew he was going to end up at the hospital.  The cancer had spread to his adrenal glands, his pelvic bone and his spine.  He also had 3 blood clots in his lung.  By this time, his breathing was extremely labored and he was pretty agitated.  They rushed him by ambulance to the hospital and admitted him into emergency.

I got the voicemail Wednesday evening from Ski that Sam wasn’t doing well.  I called Richard who was still at work and told him what was going on.  He stopped by the hosptial on the way home while I stayed at the house with Jonathan.  I watched TV until 11pm and then went to bed and cried myself to sleep.  The phone jarred me awake at 12:15am…it was my sister-in-law Karen.  They didn’t expect Sam to make it through the night and Richard had just left the hospital.  Right after hanging up the phone, Richard called and asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.

I jumped out of bed, threw some clothes on and waited for Richard to come home.  I drove to the hospital and spent a tearful hour there trying to digest everything that was going on.  Sam appeared very calm at that point and even opened his eyes and seemed to recognize me and say “hi” even though most of what he said was incoherent.  When Richard’s three sibling made it back to his bedside, I excused myself to go home so Richard could go back to the hospital.

The day dawned and Sam was still with us and he had been admitted to the hospital.  My stepdaughter, Amy, was going to drive up and go with Richard to the hospital around noon.  I was working from home and went out at noon to run some errands.  I had to call Richard for something and was told again that Sam didn’t have much time.  I dropped everything and ran to the hospital.  Sam was obviously agitated again and would fight whomever was holding his hands.  He wanted to get the mask off, or take the blankets off or take the washcloth off his forehead.

There were so many of us there for Sam and he was in a semi-private room.  They prepped to move him into a private room for hospice provided by The Elizabeth Hospice so that we wouldn’t bother any of the other patients.  Before they moved him into a private room, my last real memory of Sam was walking into his room to stand by the end of his bed.  He looked at me, positively beamed and said “Halloooooo” and I replied “Well hallooooooo” back to him.  I couldn’t understand what he said after that and all the siblings asked why I warranted such a response.  I shrugged….Sam had always been like a second dad to me and I love him as much as I love my own dad.

After that incident, they gave him an extra strong dose of an anti-anxiety medice (Addivan I think) and soon after that, he lapsed into a coma.  That afternoon, Amy drove Richard home so he could get some work done and then went down to school to pick Jonathan up and bring him back to our house.  Richard came back to the hospital after a couple hours and I eventually went home around 8 or 9pm so Amy could go home.  Richard stayed and spent the night at the hospital.

I got Jonathan to his last day of school before the holiday break and went to work for a few hours myself to get some stuff done.  I headed back up to the hospital around noon and pretty much freaked when I went to his room and he wasn’t in there and the people in there were staring at me like I was crazy or something.  I whirled on the two nurses in the hallway (one rubbing the shoulders of the other) and demanded to know where my dad-in-law was.  They looked at me with blank faces and I got even more frustrated with them almost yelling Sam’s name at them and telling them that I wasn’t going crazy and that he had been in there the previous night.

When I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere with them, I stormed back to the elevators and down to registration and barely contained how upset I was that I didn’t know where Sam was.  She gave me a new room number (literally just around the corner from the old one) and I went back upstairs and burst into Sam’s room with no clue what was going on.  Turns out they had moved him again into an even bigger private room just because of the sheer number of people visiting Sam.

I calmed down and noticed that Sam’s breathing was much slower now, around 6 to 7 breaths a minute.  I stayed until 4pm or so and then left to go pick up Jonathan.  I had decided that I wanted him to say goodbye to Sam while he still had a chance.  Since Sam was in a coma, he was at least peaceful and not agitated and I figured Jonathan could handle it.  As I drove Jonathan back up to the hospital, I explained the situation and my expectations of him.  He behaved like a champ and he held his grandpa’s hand in his and said “Goodbye grandpa…thank you for all you did for me” with tears in his eyes.  Bless his sweet heart.

Richard had mentioned dinner earlier, so I asked if he wanted to go out and grab something to eat.  He hesitated, but his sister Carol seemed interested too, so he agreed.  The four of us went out to eat at Cenote Grill and Richard proceeded to basically double over with abdominal pain soon after eating chips and salsa.  He was obviously in a lot of pain and not feeling well at all.  I drove him and Jonathan back home and took Carol back to the hospital.

I stayed in Sam’s room until a little after 8pm.  I took Sam’s hand in mine and told him “Goodbye Sam.  I love you and it’s okay to go.  We will all miss you terribly, but it’s okay to let go”.  I went home to find Richard still doubled up in pain and eventually vomiting in the bathroom.  At 9:20pm, Sam took his last breath and at 9:21pm, Ski called to give Richard the news while he was still in bed.  At 9:27pm, I left Richard to sleep in the bedroom since he wasn’t feeling well and I laid down on the sofa to cry myself to sleep one more time.

I’m still in shock and it doesn’t seem possible that Sam is really gone.

Sam is survived by his wife of 59 years, Jane, their four children, Ski (Karen), Richard (Julie), Joy Antinora (Mark) and Carol Rhea (Dan); sisters Sue Cottle, Shirley Mozingo, Ossie Mac Combs (Carl) and Jean Perryman (Harry); seven grandchildren, Karey Knowles, April Knowles, Holly Cobb, Nick Cobb, Rick Knowles, Amy Knowles and Jonathan Knowles; and two great-grandchildren, Ashley Henessey and Krystina Henessey.

A military service will be held at 10 a.m., Saturday, January 3, 2009, at Greenwood Mortuary, 4300 Imperial Ave; followed by a Celebration of Life service at 2 p.m. at Light of the Valley Lutheran Church, 28330 Lilac Rd. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in memory to Elizabeth Hospice (760) 751-2978 or any Hospice nationwide.

A great big thank-you for your kindness and thoughtfulness–the cheery cards, phone calls, offers of help and especially for all the prayers.