Profiles in Memory 

The wind whispers through the trees
As the leaves gently float to the ground.
Their beauty so vibrant one can’t help but see
Yet their fall so gentle it makes not a sound.

And so it is with you, who have passed away
Your lives a wondrous tapestry to behold
And yet your voices silenced along the way
But your silence reverberates with a sad echo!

Leaving behind emptiness that no one can fill
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, Aunts, Uncles, lovers, friends.
Your fight was one we all can relate to; your pain was oh so real.
It’s in your memory we vow to fight for help, for these illnesses to end.

We feel your pain, your anguish and heartache
You’re struggles were more than any one person should bear.
May your names remain here, leaving an impact only you can make.
Gone.. but never forgotten.. as long as I am here!

With love
Melanie Woodruff

William “Bill” Coffey 1953 - 2001

Bill has done so many things in his lifetime it is hard to know where to start. Bill was the son of James Coffey & Sarah (McGarvey) Coffey and he was born in Brooklyn New York. His mother died when he was young so he spent most of his summers in New Hampshire with his sister Mary and her family. He loved the mountains and the country life so he moved to New Hampshire full time. Bill was predeceased by a brother Edward who died in Vietnam, and a brother James who died in a car accident. He is survived by a son Shaun-of NH, his sisters Mrs. Donald (Mary) Crooker- of NH, and Mrs. Robert (Theresa) Fornatale - of NJ, and a brother Daniel Coffey- of NY. Bill also had many nieces, nephews, cousins, and his number one supporters and best friends to the end the Peterson family as well as a great many friends in many states.

 He made his home in Colorado Springs and was very involved with his church, Woodman Valley Chapel, where he served as an usher every Sunday. Bill had a great sense of humor and the fact that he died on April Fools Day would really have made some great joke material for him. He was an avid outdoorsman and would do anything for a friend. He served in the U.S.A.F. where he fine-tuned his love of airplanes and skydiving which has followed him through his lifetime. Bill just recently made his 500’Th jump. He was also a pilot and a Captain in the Civil Air Patrol. Bill went to the Police Academy and was a Private Investigator in New Hampshire. He was a salesman and traveled throughout Colorado doing business and making many friends along the way. 

Bill was diagnosed with Progressive Interstitial Lung Disease (Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis) in January of 2000 and has fought this disease with courage and optimism from the onset. He started an experimental Interferon drug program the beginning of this year. He donated his body to research at the National Jewish Medical & Research Center in Denver and his corneas have been transplanted to a blind person. He had been accepted for a lung transplant but refused opting for quality of life over quantity due to his body's poor reactions to prednisone, the anti-rejection drug. 

James "Jim" Cook 1927 - 2002

 Jim has lived a long life full of adventure and travel. He loved the open road and would drive across the country instead of fly. He took his last trip to Pennsylvania from California in 2000. He loved to drive Volvos. He put at least 300,000 on each of the several he owned. Jim was born in Pennsylvania, went to Germany in the air force for one year after the war and moved to California when he was in his early 20's. He met his wife, Reta, at a radio control model airplane contest in Kansas when he was in his late 20's. He was a draftsman for Ampex. He worked there for many years and then went to work as a design engineer at Lockheed. He retired from Lockheed when he was in his late 50's and then worked off and on after that. 

He loved his church. Started going in 1961 and went the rest of his life. Knew most people by name and would often hug good friends upon greeting them. Loved being around active people and would go weekly to the Senior outings. His grandsons lived with him and he loved them very much. He loved his yearly trips to Maui, Hawaii - he had a timeshare and used it every year since 1983. He loved to hike and walk on the beach. He planned and looked forward to going next summer in 2002. But of course it will never happen. He also loved Yosemite, in the beautiful Sierras of California. He had been hiking there for over 30 years. 

He got pneumonia in May. In August he was diagnosed with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. His doctor told him that since he was healthy and there was only a small spot on his lower lung to come back in 3 months and they would check it. Of course by then it was in a lung and a half was full of the disease, the high dose of prednisone almost killed him because of his violent reaction and the doctor said there was no other options that could stop its progress at this stage. My father was optimistic that he was going to get better and said he was not dying because doctor was doing all he could to save him. By this time he wasn't thinking clearly and I couldn't offer any advice. He was totally dependant on his doctor for all advice - which was "this is your only option, the side effects of other drugs are worse". He was never given oxygen until 2 weeks before his death. At that point he was on 6 liters a day. I told him he needed it before that but he told me the doctor didn't tell him that and he should know. I am angry at his lack of treatment through lack of knowledge by his doctor. I have found many options for this disease now. It does kill quickly, but the quality of life and comfort options are abundant. He died February 3, 2002 - 5 months after diagnosis. 

He is survived by his wife Reta, his son Jim, his daughter Janet, his grandsons Sean, Steven & Buck.

Eugene Joseph Dominiak  July 2, 1922---July 1, 2003  

I can still hardly believe that Dad has left us even when I write the date of death.  It looks like some one else’s statistic.  My father had a very difficult life, but always found the good in everything that he could, and that’s what he always choose to remember.  His family, due to parental health issues, was split up when he was eleven.  He and his brother went to live with an aunt, her father and brother.  My Dad’s sister and two brothers were sent to an orphanage.  They did not see each other again until they were in their mid twenties.  Dad served in Europe and North Africa during WWII for four long and lonely years.  He was asked to join the Tenth Mountain Division while in Europe because of his athleticism and leadership skills.  At 19 he was a sergeant in charge of 20-30 men at a time.  About nine months before the war ended, my father’s brother was killed in Europe about two miles from where my Dad was fighting.  That was a terrible tragedy for my father.  It was the brother he grew up with, and they were very close.  It also was the one death that my Dad never was able to put behind him.  After the war ended, my Dad came back to the states and met my Mother, who is in the other two pictures next to Dad.  They had four children.  Now, they have 5 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild.   Dad was an electrician for the City of Milwaukee for over 30 years.  During work one day, he was hit by a drunk driver as he was carrying a wooden barricade to block off a work area.  He suffered many injuries, which included the amputation of his lower leg, but surgeons managed to reattach it, and he did regain use of that leg.  After that he suffered a serious depression that left him unable to concentrate enough to do his job.  He received full disability a short time later.  Dad at 54 lost the independence that so many people strive to keep well into later years.  His mental status did improve over the next five to ten years, but it took a lot of work and care.   After that he developed some carotid artery disease, which was surgically repaired.  Then came prostate cancer and the eight weeks of daily radiation, which he also survived.  In his early seventies, the herniation of three lumbar disks from years of hard work required him to use a walker.  From his inactivity due to all of his injuries, he developed diabetes.  This had an effect on his feet, eyesight, and kidneys.  

DALE G. BAZILL 1937-2001  

Dale was born July 26,1937, the son of Dale S. and Edith G. Bazill. He grew up in Bradford, a small railroad town in southwest Ohio. As a child, he was curious about what made things work by taking them apart to find out. As a young teen he repaired radios for neighbors and friends. It was not surprising that he became an engineer and graduated from General Motors Institute in Flint Michigan in 1960.  

As both a mechanical and electrical engineer, there didn’t seem there was anything he couldn’t repair, design or build. His talents were quite amazing! He even designed and built his family’s home in 1979. He had a long and interesting career from his days at General Motors where he developed and patented a ring weld process to fully seal ball joint assemblies. Later, he founded Electronic Technology Company (ETC) offering professional engineering services in design and programming.   He met his wife, Joy at General Motors while doing his co-op program. The couple married in 1961. They had three children and took many family vacation trips together including the Hawaiian Islands in 1978. Dale had many interests including bass fishing. He went on many fishing trips with his son, Mark. He always wanted to get a bass boat, but due to other necessities and putting three children through college, it was always on the back burner. Flying radio-controlled airplanes was another interest. Of course, he built his own and he belonged to the Wing Masters Flying Club.  

The disease began as a dry cough. It was persistent for several years and the doctors told him that he had chronic bronchitis. Eventually, he was hospitalized where after many test, he was diagnosed that he had "Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis". It was already in the advanced stage and he was put on oxygen. Since both of his lungs were so badly scarred, he was not a candidate for a transplant. Needless to say, we were devastated, but he was determined to fight the disease and continue to live his life to the fullest (which he did). Dale also underwent two surgeries for knee replacement. Because it was difficult to breathe, he used a battery-powered cart to get around.  Even through all of this, he never gave up and he got his deserving, long awaited bass boat. Although it was a struggle for him, he had two years of enjoyment from it. He took his 4-year-old grandson for a ride, just two weeks before he passed away. While on this boat ride, he told his daughter, "The thing that bothers me the most, about this disease, is the fact that I’ll never see my grandchildren grow up". He loved them so. 

He was survived by his wife Joy, two daughters: Bonnie and Jill, a son: Mark, five grandchildren: Troy, Benjamin, Lauren and 2 grandsons he didn’t live to see Jonathan and his namesake Luke Dale. Oh, how proud he would have been! A brother Jerry, a sister Diana and a mother-in-law Mary Jane also survived him. 

George E. Pintner

My dad was a kind, loving, funny, hard working christian man who loved God.  A wonderful husband to my mom for almost 53 years; the BEST dad  to  me, his daughter and only child for 46 years; a loving, fun  father-in-law to my husband; a loving uncle, etc...  I could go on and on, but you get the picture.  He was very SPECIAL to everyone he came into contact with.

On January 10, 2003, just 5 days after his 77th  birthday, this horrible, frustrating, dreadful disease stripped him  from our lives.  It took 2 years to actually kill him, but the battle  we all fought during that time was awful!!    We all 4 waged war  against this unknown enemy (my Dad, my mom, Opal, me, and my husband  Lynn), which still has not been diagnosed by anyone but me, Debbie  Foster, his daughter.  The doctors just said he had COPD.  His  cardiologist said "it's just those lungs"; his pulmonary doctor would  say "it's just that old worn out heart", while all of us just bounced  back
and forth like a tennis ball.  In the meantime, both of them were adding more medications, changing medications, raising the dosage, lowering the dosage, putting him on a nebulizer 4 times a day, adding pure liquid oxygen, and nothing seemed to help, and day by day all of  his family and friends sadly, helplessly watched this vivacious,  outdoor, active 75 year old become increasingly  helpless and dependent  on his closest loved ones to do everything for him.  Eventually this  loving man
who enjoyed the outdoors and  camping out, going to family  functions became completely house-bound or hospital bound.

You say,  good grief, the man was 77 years old when he died!  That's old! He's  had a good life.   You can't keep him forever.  I know that.  But  consider that his parents both lived  to be 89.  Now I knew that with  two triple bypasses and  lung surgery (they tore his lung during the  second bypass, and had to do surgery a week after the second bypass to repair it) that more than likely he was not going to live to be his  parents age, but at 75 he as tearing up the world until this disease  literally stopped him in his tracks overnight.  At 75, he would get up and do his cardiac rehab exercises posted on the back of the bedroom door, walk the treadmill, ride the exercise bicycle, the regular bicycle, get on top of a 37 foot motor home and wash it, mow his yard  as well as the neighbor's yard across the street, all in one day.  At  Christmas, he and 1 neighbor would put up the luminaries for the whole  street.  He also took older friends for doctor appointments in Dallas,  TX which was an hour and a half drive; go visit anyone who was sick  and  in the hospital, and was ALWAYS ready to help someone else in need.
 Did he deserve to die just because he was 77.  I think not!  He began  to faint on campouts, and we knew that they had to sell their beautiful  motorhome they had barely used (no they are not some old rich folks  with loads of money), so mom, Lynn and I unloaded the motorhome while  dad watched helplessly, not able to do a thing but sit and watch.  We  all cried as we unloaded and cleaned the motorhome.

The saddest thing for me as his daughter, was not selling the motorhome, but being forced  to realize that whatever had happened to my dad was not going to get better. My parents both worked in factories all their lives, doing  manual labor, inhaling metal dust, chemicals: mek, naptha, and others
 as well  as tons of second hand cigarette smoke.  One day I took my  mom  to an appointment at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical  School in Dallas, Texas.  The appointment was in the biomedical  technology building.  There were  2 publications laying on the table:  one was about the foundation, and the other was about all the diseases  they were currently doing research on.  One article read "Out of Air".  I started reading it and it matched my dad's illness to a "T".  This  was in May 2003, after his death in January 2003.  There, I had my  answer that I had struggled so hard to find before my very eyes.  Too  late to help my dad, but my dad is now in a better place, and at
peace; not struggling to stay alive for all of us.  He's in heaven with God.

Currently, I'm trying to get his medical records entered into the  study  at U T Southwestern Medical School, and get my mom enrolled now. It's  too late for him, but it's not too late to help my mom hopefully. She  worked at the same aircraft plant 12 years longer than he did, also  had  an injury to a lung caused by a healthcare  professional, inhaled  metal dust longer, and inhaled tons of second hand smoke for a longer period  of time.  If we can't help her, my hope is that her being in a study
 will help the doctors and nurses find a cure or at least something  that  will improve the life of someone suffering with pulmonary fibrosis and keep any other family from going through what we went through.  If that can be accomplished  then  a goal has been achieved.  This disease is
 cruel, and has to be stopped as soon as possible.

 In Loving Memory of My Dad, George Pittner
 Debbie Foster - Benbrook, Texas   September 26, 2003