When American Healthcare Takes a Loved One Too Soon: Remembering Mark Neal (3.22.2025)

Recently, my mother's husband, Mark, whom my children knew and loved as "Grandpa Mark," passed away.

Our relationship with Mark was complex. Yet, his boundless generosity was a constant. He lived to make people smile, even when his jokes missed the mark. He'd go out of his way to brighten someone's day. Tragically, this very trait contributed to his death.

Mark, often socially awkward, used humor to connect. At times, this caused discomfort. Yet, his intent was always to share a smile. After rebuilding their Florida homes twice due to hurricane damage, he believed he'd established a rapport with the county government employees. He went to their office for electrical work paperwork, expecting a lengthy process. Receiving only one page, he attempted a lighthearted joke, "Just one paper? You oughta be shot!" He laughed and left, thinking nothing of it, simply happy to continue making their home habitable. My mother later learned they needed an additional $4,000 to meet code. She felt defeated, longing for peace after years of moving, rebuilding, surgeries, and hospital visits.

Mark, in his 70s, battled emphysema and heart conditions. He’d moved to Florida for the sunshine and humidity, which eased his breathing. My mother, in her 50s, had endured multiple surgeries. Though he wasn’t as youthful as he felt inside, Mark worked tirelessly as a landscaper until my partner and I bought his business in 2020. They moved to Florida, hoping to relax, travel, and secure their future. They bought three homes, using Mark's inheritance and life savings. Mark cared for his mother, and my mother helped care for her in her final months. Their compassion bound them, giving them strength.

Two hurricanes, about a year apart, devastated two of their homes. During one storm, they nearly drowned retrieving Mark’s breathing machine. He couldn’t go far without it, but they persevered. I watched him deteriorate after that simple, sarcastic joke.

The police arrived, questioning him. They tried to put words in his mouth, attempting to get him to say what kind of gun he'd use. My mother, wary of law enforcement, explained the misunderstanding. They arrested Mark, accusing him of threatening a government employee. My mother begged them to take his breathing machine, but they refused, only reluctantly allowing his inhaler. She overheard officers questioning the arrest. They placed him in a police van in the Florida heat and left him alone for three hours. When they returned, he was panicked, gasping for air. They took him to the hospital, and my mother posted bail.

Mark was weak and unable to walk or speak. They left his previously abled body in her care with no remorse. Living on the second floor of a hotel during repairs, with no elevator, my mother moved him, sometimes using a luggage cart. She was in tears, knowing he didn’t deserve this. Recovering from spinal surgery herself, with heart and lung complications, she cared for him while finishing repairs. She helped him to the bathroom, something he’d never needed before. He was afraid to shower, frustrated, like a cornered animal. He had seen his mother die, and he wasn’t ready to go.

A week later, Mark was hospitalized again. Doctors said he’d had a heart attack the day he was in the police van. They offered risky stent surgery or doing nothing. He chose the stents. During surgery, he nearly died, and they almost amputated his arm due to a prolonged blood cuff. Nurses massaged his arm for two hours. He was discharged two days later, despite the heart event and near-death experience, and denied cardiac rehabilitation. Three days later, he was readmitted, staying for 11 horrible days. He feared choking and wouldn’t eat alone. They put him on a liquid diet, but the food went untouched. He was given unappetizing food. My mother, with the flu, couldn’t visit. He lost significant weight.

My mother noticed his weight loss and confusion. She requested someone be with him during meals and for real food. The next day, he cried, saying they'd treated him horribly. When my mom arrived the day after pleading for help she found him starving and dazed. After demanding answers she was told “He didn’t want me to feed him.” When I called Mark, he said, “They hate me. I begged for water for four hours in the night; they called me a liar. I threw my bed pan out for help, still nothing for two hours.” He spoke slowly, exhausted. I assured him we'd help him recover. We added protein powder to milkshakes, and my mom brought potato salad. After three bites, his cognition and strength improved; he even walked to the bathroom with assistance. He was starved.

Another rehabilitation request was denied. They suggested a nursing home, but my mother refused. As they told her their suggestion she was angry and heart broken because he was driving, doing housework, completely lucid. Yes he had occasional memory fuzziness and breathing difficulties however he had years ahead of him ones they planned on actually enjoying for the first time.  This happened so quickly. 

He returned home, a shell of himself. A week later, they suggested hospice. My mother wanted to help him regain strength, but he was too weak. He passed away  in the night next to their dog Happy. He died confused and in pain, longing for sunshine.

I am disturbed by his treatment. I fear for others. This should not be the standard. Healthcare and insurance companies failed him. The police abused him, impacting his life. The repeated denial of care killed him. Profit should not be prioritized over people. We should treat each other with humanity. It seems everyone was burnt out or focused on power or corporate rules. When will we say no more?

I heard they are seeking the death penalty for Luigi Mangione. I want to know how many school shooters or those who kill based on racial hatred have been labeled terrorists. A healthcare CEO should be held responsible for the lives lost due to their profits-over-people approach. The suffering and death toll from such corporate decisions is far greater, and I see it everywhere. While Mangione's act was grotesque, it united people in the aftermath questioning why he was murdered.  It connected us all as we all either have been or know someone lost or injured from these profit seeking giants. 

When will those in power change these systems? I saw my mother-in-law denied cancer medication, and I myself have been denied treatments. We need accountability. We need people who understand these systems. I am not okay with this. If you have ideas or want to take action, please let me know. I’d love to support positive forward motion.

I find solace in knowing Mark is no longer suffering. I think he’s part of the sunshine he loved, feeling loved and appreciated. I hope he found a beautiful new beginning. He didn’t deserve this.

We love you. We miss you. We appreciate you. Grandpa Mark, thank you for being here. We’ll think of you when the sunshine or a silly joke sparks a smile.

Keep moving forward kindly. Please advocate for yourself and others.