61 years ago today, July 24, 1965, my wife, Barbara, age 22, died at the University of Minnesota Hospital in Minneapolis.  She had been hospitalized there for 58 days, awaiting the possibility of a kidney transplant, a condition which had been part of our lives the entirety of our two year marriage.  Our son was a few months over one year old at the time of her death.  He is now 62.

There are endless details.  61 years is a long time, and 61 is not a notable anniversary, but the event came to mind without intention (see following para), and it seems a worthwhile time to revisit what was a very difficult time in two lives and the exemplary roles of medicine and community at the time, with possibly some learning opportunities for both in the present day.

This writing is for anyone who might be interested in the topic, but specifically it is for the medical and government institutions which became involved at the time.  This heightened awareness – recollection – came about because a friend of mine, active in a twin cities Senior Kiwanis chapter, told me about a session they were going to have about revitalization of rural health policy.

The situation long ago for my wife and I was very much a creature of rural medical and public policy in 1963-66,   I attended the local meeting on July 21, 2026.  It was excellent.

This writing does not pertain to any contents of the meeting, whose speakers were two Minnesota state legislators with a passion in support of effective public health .

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Before the meeting I shared with my friend a four page summary of the 1964-65 personal experience.  It can be read here: Medical 1964-66 A.

By the time of the meeting, I recalled keeping some correspondence during the time of the medical crisis. I had kept the material in a file all these years.  It includes 10 letters from government entities, which speak for themselves: Medical Care 1964-66 C.

I reiterate: there is no criticism made about anything at the time, or now.  Our experience was about personal reality, not theory.  Life was moment to moment.

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Recently, I tried to describe what we went through with a friend of Barbara’s during her high school days. He is a retired vice-president of a well known health insurance provider.  Essentially I described my personal situation in 1964-66, thusly:  it was like being in a canoe, and after losing the only paddle, approaching a waterfall on a river.  You can see big trouble ahead, but there is nothing you can do.

You go over the waterfall, and by some quirk you survive, but now you face the prospect of continuing the trip, not knowing what is ahead, but without either paddle or canoe….   All that you have is the present.

Larry, the friend, allowed that the description made sense.  Each and every day, somewhere, others are facing a similar crisis.  What can we do?

As the legislators were talking on the 21st, I kept looking at the Kiwanis banner just beyond them.

The banner says it all, about any aspect of community, be it medical, fire, etc., etc.  We are members of a community which, in my reading, is all of us, anywhere in this state, country and world.

My thanks to everyone who cares.  Do take the time to read the links, and feel free to share.  Perhaps something in the contents will resonate….

PS:  Most likely, everyone who wrote the letters shared above are long deceased.  I want especially to note two of them, Julius W. Bartels, who was the hospital administrator and Barbara’s ambulance driver in Elgin in May of 1965.  Not long afterwards, I think Nov. 20, 1965, Mr. Bartels was taking another patient and her husband to Bismarck, on the same country highway.  This particular day, to my recollection from the newspaper of the time, Bartels collided with a grain truck entering the highway, probably out of his sightline until right before the accident.  He and his passengers were killed, and if memory served, the large family of husband and wife was orphaned….  Bartels was 45 years old.

Delano Pfeifle, then a young physician apparently in his first year of practice at then-Quain and Ramstad Clinic in Bismarck ND, did much heavy lifting, helping facilitate the inevitable trip to University of Minnesota Hospital in Minneapolis.

PS 2: The last letter is a refund of Barbara’s ND teacher retirement account.  She had started her first school year in North Dakota in 1963, but had to resign less than two months into the term.  In Elgin, she tried to substitute, but to my knowledge could only do two days due to her illness.  My son qualified for minimal social security benefits due to policy at the time.  Barbara had worked in sufficient quarters to qualify for Social Security, even perhaps not more than a day in a quarter.

PS 3:  Three days before Barbara died, I signed a teaching contract for the Anoka-Hennepin School District.  This was my third year of teaching.  Needless to say, the beginning of my time in the Twin Cities was unusual to say the least.  I taught nine years in all, thence came 27 years representing public school teachers through MEA and then Education Minnesota, retiring in 2000.

Barbara’s funeral was in Valley City North Dakota July 29, 1965.  Unknown by me until years later, the next day, July 30, 1965, Lyndon Johnson signed the Medicare Act into Law.