My husband, Alejandro, died from lung cancer in 2010. He was just 50 years old. For years, one of my husband’s jobs was to tend to the lettuce fields where we worked in Greenfield. Right after spraying pesticides and weed killers, he would go into the fields, working up the soil with a short-handled hoe so that the lettuce could grow. He would get really close to the ground, breathing in the dust and also the chemical residue that was there.
A few years before he died, Alejandro developed a severe respiratory condition. He couldn’t lay down because when he did, it felt like he was drowning. A doctor told us that he needed a lung transplant. We waited, but no donors were found.
His breathing worsened to the point that he needed to be hospitalized and put on a ventilator. One day, as the nurses were getting him ready for his walk, he suffered a stroke. I rushed to his side. He died there in my arms, saying “mis hijos, mis hijos.” [My kids, my kids]
— source commondreams.org | Audelia Garcia | Aug 15, 2022