'A long goodbye': Soldier, Family cope with rare illness

By Heather Clark, Fort Campbell CourierAugust 29, 2014

'A long goodbye': Soldier, Family cope with rare illness
Master Sgt. Anthony Cogdill, Fort Campbell Warrior Transition Battalion, and his wife, Alma, visit with friends and volunteers at the Fisher House before a dental appointment Aug. 20. The Cogdills have been regular visitors to Fisher House since 2011... (Photo Credit: U.S. Army) VIEW ORIGINAL

FORT CAMPBELL, Ky. -- At Fort Campbell's Fisher House, Wednesday afternoons are often a hive of activity -- particularly in the kitchen.

"We do a lunch -- it's for our Warriors and their caregivers," explained Wendy Carlston, manager of the facility. "It's a peer support group -- Soldier to Soldier and caregiver to caregiver, talking."

And so it was on Aug. 20 -- Carlston, her husband and several volunteers flurried through the large, homey kitchen. As platters piled with pasta, fried zucchini and salad, Carlston began to glance at her watch.

"Tony and Alma are coming," she said. "They always try to make it by lunchtime when they come here, but they usually don't."

The hit-or-miss punctuality is understandable. The drive from Hohenwald, Tenn., to Fort Campbell takes more than two hours. Tacked onto that is the time it takes for Alma to get her husband seated in his motorized wheelchair and into their customized van.

By the time they arrive at the Fisher House Aug. 20, volunteers and Wounded Warriors have already made their plates and migrated to the dining room -- and since that is where the action is, the couple makes their way to the middle of the group. Because Tony is in the late stages of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis -- often referred to as Lou Gehrig's Disease -- he is unable to partake in the afternoon meal. His nourishment is now exclusively administered via feeding tube. When a plate is offered to Alma, she turns down the offer with a warm smile.

"I never eat in front of him," she explains.

Master Sgt. Anthony Cogdill, a 37-year Veteran of the Army National Guard and currently attached to the Fort Campbell Warrior Transition Battalion, began his battle in 2011 -- his wife and Family beside him each step of the way.

Problems overseas

Tony worked hard to be able to deploy with his Soldiers to Afghanistan in 2011. When he was placed on medical hold for a medication he was taking for a skin condition he contracted during a deployment to Iraq, he wrote letters and ceased all prescriptions until he was cleared to go.

It was in Afghanistan that Cogdill's Soldiers began to notice problems, particularly the night their camp came under enemy fire.

"He wasn't able to grab his weapon or put his Kevlar on," said Alma. "He was favoring one arm, not doing what he normally does. It kind of alarmed his Soldiers, who more or less told on him."

Upon the urging of his Soldiers, Tony received a medical evaluation, where it was discovered that his neck was broken in several places -- an injury he'd received during a training exercise in Kuwait and kept hidden.

"He was not going to go home," said Alma. "He was not going to leave his guys."

Tony was taken to Germany. Once stabilized, he was sent back to the United States to begin the surgical procedures to fix his neck and get him back into fighting shape.

"We figured he'd be able to carry on normal after healing," said Alma. "But instead of getting better, he just kept getting worse and worse."

Diagnosis

When Tony continued to decline in the wake of surgery, he was sent to a neurologist. Other conditions and injuries were gradually ruled out, and he was officially diagnosed with ALS in December 2011.

"That's when our whole world was turned upside down," said Alma.

Though devastated, the couple made a promise to each other that they would wait until after Christmas to reveal the news to their two daughters, Jennifer and Victoria.

"But the girls are smart, and they figured out that something was wrong," said Alma. "Both of our daughters are nurses."

In the blink of an eye, Tony had gone from broken bones to learning he had a crippling neurodegenerative disorder -- one which offers a prognosis of three to five years after diagnosis. He learned that the breakdown of motor neurons in his brain meant that he would gradually lose the ability to move, to feed himself, to speak.

As a Family suddenly faced with a short supply of borrowed time, they began to plan.

The comfort of home

"We all sat down as a Family at the very beginning," said Alma. "We said 'He's not going to a nursing home. He's not going to a facility. He's staying home.' As soon as he got the diagnosis, we started building."

Having two medical professionals in the Family helped in the transition. With a backup generator, there is no concern about Tony's machines being affected by power outages. A roll-in shower allows room for his hospital bed.

"I have a water heater that heats the water as you use it," said Alma. "That way if it takes me two hours to give him a shower, he never has cold water."

"His wife provides his care," said Carlston. "She gets him in and out of the chair, she dresses him, feeds him … he at this point can do nothing for himself."

Companionship is not in short supply, however. One daughter moved in with Tony and Alma following the diagnosis, along with their 5-year-old grandson. They spend most of their time in a room large enough to fit a king-sized bed and Tony's hospital bed. Their second daughter will be moving from Clarksville to Hohenwald this weekend.

"We were always a close Family anyway, but this has just really put it to glue," said Alma.

It is a Family that extended to the Fisher House after Tony's diagnosis.

"They're part of our Family," said Carlston. "Anybody who stays at the Fisher House is then a member of our Family."

Looking back, bravely ahead

In the face of an affliction that robs an individual of so much in such a short amount of time, the Cogdills are not in denial about what the future holds.

"He knows what's coming; he knew back then what was coming," said Alma. "But he's just doing this day by day, and that's how we live. From one day to the next -- that's all you've got."

Still, Alma says that there's no pity party taking place in their home. Saturday nights they can be found at the car races near their home. When their grandson plays football, Tony and Alma are at the game.

After his diagnosis, Tony had one thing to say about the journey: "I will go and do until I can't do any more."

"Still, I know that he's suffering," said Alma. "I know this is horrible for him."

"I love Tony and Alma," said Carlston, breaking down in tears unexpectedly. "I've known them since his diagnosis; I've seen the progression and it just breaks my heart. We just want them to know that we're here for them."

Doing her best each day to take care of his every need, Alma steels herself against the eventual loss -- of saying goodbye to the man who stole her heart at the age of 15 when he moved from Tennessee to Michigan to live with his dad for a year.

"At the end of the school year, he wanted to go back home," she said. "I begged him not to go, but he left Michigan and he broke my heart."

A couple of years later, that same boy returned to Michigan for work.

"He decided to come back to see if anybody lived in the same neighborhood," said Alma. "He knocked on my door and the rest is history. He was my first love, honest to God."

In the early stages of his illness, Tony and Alma took to capturing anything and everything on video - his impending speech loss putting a profound weight on everyday moments most take for granted.

"That way we can still hear him," she said with tears in her eyes. "Little things like 'I love you.' I've got it here on my phone, so I can always hear it."

One of the hardest things Alma deals with is the air of uncertainty -- wondering each day if it will be the last the Family spends together as a whole.

"I cherish every day that we have, but it's a long goodbye," she said.

The Family has chosen to focus on the things that are certain -- their bond, the memories they have created and the love that has kept them steady through a tragic chapter.

"Sometimes he still tries to speak to me and he'll get aggravated when I can't understand him," said Alma. "When it gets to the point where he wants to quit, I just kind of laugh and say 'I know what it was; you were going to tell me you love me, right?' We kind of push forward that way. It's just how we roll."

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