​                                       3. Then...The Pages Were Blank

The primary content of this retelling comes from a diary written by my dad, Gerrit H. Te Slaa. The entries of this 1975 diary started on January 1, when both he and my mother were 68 years old. Dad loved to write, but his diary writing was less consistent than that of my mother, who maintained many yearly diaries. Dad’s interest in writing came more in the vein of writing stories and poems for friends and family, pieces for special occasions such as wedding receptions and anniversaries, and essays on religious subjects.
 
Throughout their working years and into their retirement, Dad and Mom lived lives filled with participation. They were deeply involved in church, civic and farm matters. Throughout his many years as a farmer, Dad had built a regional reputation as an officer and state-wide leader in a national movement called the National Farmers Organization, known as the NFO. For many years he served in the consistory of the church and taught Sunday school. He was active in Kiwanis. Dad was the person to whom family and friends came for advice. He was a peacemaker, and he was generous with his financial help.
 
His diary of January, February and part of March 1975 details life activities centering around his family, siblings and relatives, the church, community and travel. Of course, being a farmer, with one eye to the sky, the weather figured predominately in his diary during those early days of 1975. Mom’s diary shows that same attention to the weather.
 
By January 1 of 1975, they had been in retirement for several years and were spending part of their winters in Arizona. They had built a new home in Hull, Iowa. Their one-level home was an easy walk to church, close to friends, family and downtown. It was common for people in Hull to see the 3020 John Deere tractor parked on the driveway of their home in town, ready for the next day of farm field work.
 
The year’s entries start from Arizona.
 
January 1: Paid rent to Mrs. Vermeer for 1974. 40 acres at $45 per acre
 
January 17: After supper we went to the 1st Assembly of God. Liked it better than Thurs night, but too many ‘amens’.  (Dad and Mom were vacationing in Mc Allen, Texas, with Pete and Gertrude Pollema.)
 
January 22: Today it rained almost all the time. Haven’t seen the sun at no time. If it was always this way it would be better in Iowa.

January 24: Tonight is letter writing night. 10:00 mom is asleep.
 
January 25: Bought gifts for kids. Renita and Glenda stationary, Harwin Bingo, Beth purse, Darwin puzzles, Lisa comfy brush, Galon key chain, Kevin bingo, Loren keys, Cheryl comb and brush.
 
January 26: Went to 1st Pres Church – Reading the first four chapters of Matthew. Seems these people are not too familiar with the Bible.
 
February 6: Waco, Texas. Mom would like to go straight home to witness the double baptism. (The baptisms of Brad and Brian Gorter)
 
February 9: On to Glenwood. Saw Glen, on to home, unloaded, supper, Peter and Gertrude left for home.
 
February 10: Lunch in Sioux City. Stopped at pet shop. Picked up two birds. One killed by cat.
 
February 12: Went to Chester De Boer. Paid for 10 bags of corn $364.91. Had a Big 4 meeting at Bill and Etta. Two main topics, snowstorm and Texas. (”Big 4” referred to Dad and his siblings)
 
From the middle of February to the middle of March 1975, diary entries were mostly taken up with weather observations, visits to and from family and friends, co-op meetings, church commitments, study groups, funerals and Kiwanis meetings. Dad was still a part-time farmer, selling 1500 bushels of corn for $2.65 a bushel. The next-door neighbor Marie and other friends and acquaintances would regularly consult with him about the progress of his poems and Yankee Dutch writings. At the time he was writing for the upcoming Koele family anniversary.
 
Mom continued as a board member of a senior citizens group, while also working with ceramics and building and refinishing furniture. Both Dad and Mom were busy with foster parent meetings and hospital visits to family, friends, and neighbors.
 
There were frequent trips to Sioux Falls for treatment of Mom’s stomach problems and recovery from a significant car accident some years prior. Mom’s surgery for a ruptured ulcer was scheduled for March 23, 1975. Dad had been recently diagnosed with a kidney infection while consulting with a doctor about cholesterol medications.
 
February 13 to February 28: Dad writes on a variety of topics.
 
Went with Cleo to buy a 706 tractor for $5300. The next day was a quiet day, no one here, went to Sioux Falls for baptism of Bradley and Brian, 3 weeks today been to Dr., must come back in 3 or 4 weeks, went to Classes to vote on women ministers, went to microwave school, I was the only man there, Ladies Aid, gave $3.00 per month for a year to Billy Graham, annual prayer service for crop and industry, I went with Howard to Miller S.D He bought 81 calves $24.50 to $26.00 got home at 1:30 a.m. Went to the first senior citizens potluck. Mom was nominated on the board. Foster parents met as SC public library. Marie Douma was here about a piece for 40th wedding anniversary.
 
March 1 to March 20:
On Friday, March 21, 1975: Significant changes began to happen. That day was their big 45th wedding anniversary celebration. To celebrate, the Te Slaa and Van Marel families and friends gathered at the First Reformed Church in Hull. The films and photos show a gathering of happy, seemingly healthy folks.
 
But even as these joyful celebrations took place, apprehension was building regarding medical  appointments the following week. Mom was scheduled for ulcer surgery in Sioux Falls. Dad’s diary reflects worries about Mom and health issues of his own.
  
Sunday, March 23:  Mom stayed home from church. Mom to enter McKennan hospital at 3:00 p.m. Left for Sioux Falls about 2:00 p.m. Mom entered hospital about 3:15 in a 3 bed, small room.

Monday, March 24: Mom got ready for surgery.

Tuesday, March 25: Mom’s surgery scheduled.  Mom left her room 6:30 a.m. I was there at 6:10. After surgery she was put into an intensive care room. Man next to her used profane language. Mom very painful.

Wednesday, March 26: Mom still painful. They say she is doing ok.

Thursday, March 27: Mom moved into a semi-private room. Her roommate had surgery today, also very painful.

Friday, March 28: Mom remains painful. Started using some liquid. Norm and Cathy and Sharon and Marv came. I babysat at C and D. Brian was cross. I went to Union Good Friday service at 1st Ref. of Sioux Falls. I slept at Norm and Cathy Sun nite to Friday nite. Had most of my meals at McKennan café.

Saturday, March 29: Mom had tubes removed today. Still painful, p.m. a little better. Jerald, Dora, Henry, Katie, Stan, Ruth and Rachel there. Also, Carolyn Cleveringa visited Mom. I went home at 5:00 oc. It was a Kiwanis Quartet program. I did not go. It’s been a cold stormy wintery weather this week. Severe storms west of Sioux Falls.
 
Saturday, March 29, 1975, was Dad’s last diary entry. There are two more entries written by a neighbor and good friend, Kate Humme. She fills in the events of the last two days of Dad’s life.
 
Sunday, March 30: Kate writes:
Walked home from church with Gerrit that morning, talked a lot, then stopped at the end of their sidewalk and talked some more, he seemed to be ok although some said they thought he looked so pale that morning. He also served communion that morning.
 
Monday, March 31: Kate writes:
Called Gerrit that morning. Asked him if he would like to go with us to Sioux Falls. He said he didn’t know yet if he was going but he said he talked with Gert this morning. Then I said something to him but got no answer. Then I said Gerritt, are you still there? But still no answer. I heard breathing then I heard the receiver fall. Thinking something happened I looked up the number of the rescue unit then ran over there. Both doors were locked but the garage door was open.  I ran in and found him lying on the floor face down. I turned him over then called the rescue unit, they were there in a few minutes but it was too late. They worked on him for 45 minutes, but he was gone.
 
EPILOGUE
It is appropriate that a friend scribed the last two entries in Dad’s diary. The lives of Garret H. Te Slaa and Gertrude Van Marel Te Slaa were very much like their friends and siblings, lives active and full of challenges. They were deeply immersed in their church and community. They communicated regularly and visited often with family and friends. They took pride in their children’s accomplishments. They were intellectually curious.  
 
People of my parents’ generation were inheritors of life’s lessons from previous generations who endured even greater hardships. They were impacted by World War I, lived and worked through the depression years and felt the devastation of World War II. They had some of the early advantages of modern medicine, yet death through disease and injury were significant life obstacles for them. They lived all their lives on farms, seldom more than a few miles from where they were born yet gave generously to human causes throughout the world.
 
They valued their heritage but spoke and wrote sparingly about it. They rarely spoke or wrote much about their feelings and experiences. What they did write offers insight into their activities but little about issues of their hearts. Even so, knowing what they did in their lives informs our understanding and fosters gratitude and appreciation for their lives. They lived consequential lives!
 
I can only encourage my contemporaries and subsequent generations to exercise inquisitiveness of the older generation and the people around you. It doesn’t have to be just family–become a good questioner and thoughtful listener to anyone intersecting with your life!
 
Personally, I have regrets for not having learned more about my parents and grandparents in fundamental and significant ways. Opportunities did exist. I could have learned so much more from them if I had only been curious and ready to listen. For example, Dad once offered to teach me how to do multiplication in my head. I pooh-poohed the idea and never listened. Consequently, I never learned that skill. That opportunity and hundreds like them are now lost for me. I regret that negligence deeply. For that, I am the poorer!

CONTRIBUTORS: Cathy Te Slaa, proofreader; Caesar Orosco, web master; Kim Van Es, editor.

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​                                         2. Infusion at the Penthouse

He checked into the clinic and was directed to the 12th floor. “We call it the penthouse,”  said the receptionist.

He knew he would like that kind of place, "Like dining on the Top of the Sixes in New York City,” he quipped.”

Just take the elevator to the 12th floor and turn left when you get off.” “Thank you,” he said, and proceeded to walk to the elevators and stepped into the first elevator going up. The elevator stopped, he stepped out and turned to the left.

A sign in big black letters hung on the wall HEMITOLOGY/ONCOLOGY!! He hesitated. I must be on the wrong floor. Should I go back down to the receptionist on the main floor and confirm the instructions from my doctor?

He decided to ask the nurse at the Oncology desk, “Is this the 12th floor?"

“Yes sir,” she answered. “This is the 12th floor” looking a bit surprised at the question. “Just have seat in the waiting room” she said, gesturing to an adjoining room.

He slowly walked into the waiting room and began to Google the word ‘Oncology.’ He read: Oncology is a branch of medicine focused on the study, diagnosis, treatment, and the prevention of cancer.

What?  There must be a mistake, he thought. I’m here for a simple shot in my arm for rheumatoid arthritis.

He had just sat down and finished reading the search definition when a nurse opened the door to the waiting room and asked: “Are you here for your nine o'clock appointment?”
“Yes,” he responded.

“Please follow me, sir."

He did as the nurse suggested and proceeded to the end of the hallway where a sign announced: ONCOLOGY.

Together they entered the room.

 It was a large room perhaps 80 x 60 feet. Around three sides of the room there were side by side recliners. All but two recliners had a person lying prone or sitting upright under white blankets.

What am I doing here, he asked himself? This is a cancer treatment center!!
With disbelief, he followed the nurse to her duty station.

The nurse handed him a pamphlet about the drug. “We are treating you with a drug called Rituximab,” she calmly explained.

“Ma'am, I need to phone my wife,” he said. “This was not what I was anticipating. I was expecting a simple shot in my arm for my rheumatoid arthritis. There must be a mistake.”
“Before I decide on this, I need to call my wife," he responded in a faltering voice.
“Sure, take your time,” she answered.

The nurse dialed the number from her duty phone, and his wife answered. The nurse proceeded to explain the meaning and use of the word ‘infusion’ and about the drug Rituximab while he eavesdropped on the conversation and read the pamphlet explanation about the drug.

The pamphlet read in part: It has been found to be effective for treatment of leukemia, lymphoma, polyangiitis, pemphigus vulgaris and rheumatoid arthritis.

Finally, he began to understand his misconception. The drug was an effective treatment for a wide range of diseases, including rheumatoid arthritis.

After a short while, all agreed to proceed with the infusion.

It was only minutes later until he was seated in one of the two vacant recliners in the treatment room, given five pills to swallow and an IV was inserted into his arm.

So began his first, seven-hour infusion in the penthouse for treatment for his rheumatoid arthritis!

                                       
​                                        1. Tribute to Web Sandbulte

My perception of Wilbur ‘Web’ Sandbulte when I knew him as upper-aged teenagers.

Web was one of God’s special creatures. He exceeded in intelligence. He led by example. He viewed himself as exceptionally average. He did not practice one upmanship with fellow humans. He had a boundless laugh. He was a good sportsman. A man with a love for music, singing and athletics. A heart that wanted to help. He played fairly with others. There were admirable streaks of adventure and risk-taking in him.

​We lost track of each other during the years of our careers. Such is my regret in our relationship, as it has happened with others. But, I know we could, at any time, pick up that relationship simply by taking the time to do so. That personal regret extends to many other relationships in which I could have done a better job in continuing to learn about others as we moved through our lives.