Life as a Widow and Veteran

by Zulma Weeks, Staff Writer

My name is Zulma Weeks.  I am 50 years old and a widow as of December 11, 2008.  My husband, Ernie Weeks, retired as a Lt Col in 2007 after 24 years of active duty service in the Air Force.

I want to share with other veterans and their families the joys, sacrifices and challenges I have lived through with my best friend and soul mate until his death 10 months ago.

I met Ernie in 1979 when we were both Air Force ROTC students at the University of Florida.  We were married in June 1982. Ernie went to Navigator School in Sacramento, California while I finished nursing school in Georgia. 

Eventually, we were stationed together at Loring AFB, Maine in 1984.  Ernie was a KC-135 tanker navigator at that point enjoying his childhood dream of flying, traveling and seeing the world.

I worked on the Multiservice ward of the hospital.  The unit had all patients that were not maternity patients, so we had pediatric, surgical, orthopedic medical, geriatric and psychiatric patients all on one unit.  Oh joy!  This is how the military ‘breaks’ in their young. 

I routinely had 30 plus patients that I would be responsible for with only one or two med techs to help me out on night shift.  Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I did it.

Ernie and I were enjoying a great life while juggling the responsibilities of our first two children who were born at Loring AFB Hospital.  Ernie had never been around newborns before but he certainly rose to the challenges and loved every minute of it. 

Occasionally, he would have to be reminded he was a dad.  One Sunday, with our two month old daughter, he dropped me off on a rainy day in front of the church for mass and went to park the car.  He showed up in the church minus our daughter.  I just couldn’t believe he left my precious bundle of joy like that!  We laughed about it for many years after that!

Ernie had annual flight physicals which caused a bit of anxiety for flyers.  There was always a chance that they could be ‘grounded’ and not allowed to fly if they were not 100% fit and healthy. 

A few weeks before I gave birth to our second child, Ernie went in for his flight physical knowing that he would have to tell the physician about abdominal pains he’d been experiencing off and on for a few months.  He was not looking forward to the outcome of his exam.  His passion was flying. 

After numerous diagnostic tests and consultation with the base surgeon, it was decided that he should undergo exploratory abdominal surgery. 

The young surgeon was pretty sure the culprit was Ernie’s appendix but none of the tests were definitive for such a diagnosis.  Ernie was 26 yrs old and not ready to undergo any kind of exploratory surgery. 

Fast forward a few weeks.  By this time, September 1986, I had given birth to our second child and within a week of delivering was on my way back to the hospital with Ernie who was catching a medivac flight out to Pease AFB, NH for further evaluation. 

I was hormonal, crushed and devastated at the thought of my precious husband wearing hospital pajamas!  Our reactions to life can really be absurd at times; little did I know how future life experiences would really bring me down on my knees in desperation!

To be continued…