Green family reflects on love, life and deadly decisions involving COVID-19

GREEN – Andrew Schank's swift demise came when his heart stopped for good on his 24th day in Cleveland Clinic Mercy Hospital.

That heart had already been restarted once before. By the time he died on Oct. 1, COVID-19 had sucked the life from his lungs and fight from his will. He was 30 years old. He left behind a pregnant wife, two little boys and so many family and friends.

He was not vaccinated.

Unvaccinated has become a dirty word to half the country. Anti-vaxxers, they're called, almost as if the label makes them less than human. The other half of the country sees the vaccinated as sheep. Blinded by science, they mindlessly line up to get the jab.

It's more complex than that.

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Andrew Schank worked full time in quality control at Fairlawn's Signet Jewelers. He delivered for Pizza Hut in North Canton on weekends to help provide for his young family. He'd been a Boy Scout. A devout Catholic, he and his family drove more than an hour each way from their apartment in Green to attend Latin masses at a parish in Vienna.

"It's a love story, really," said his wife, Megan, who'd taken time off as a teacher in Akron in recent years to be home with the kids.

Andrew was a smart guy; a voracious learner.

He devoured gigabytes of information online. How to be a good Catholic. How to be a better father. He built his wife a wooden planter for Mother's Day, but not until he first analyzed how many nails vs. screws the job called for. Naturally, he also spent a lot of time reading about COVID vaccines. He scoured the web for primary source information, from the lips of those who'd researched and made the Moderna, Pfizer and Johnson & Johnson vaccines.

"He'd say, 'When I learn how to do something the correct way, then I'll make it my way, too,'" Megan explained.

Andrew found many reasons not to get vaccinated. His decision, he believed, was best for the family he loved. Near the end, though, he realized he was wrong —  by then it was too late.

'Andrew was pure loving joy.'

Megan met Andrew in 2009 during their freshmen orientation at Walsh University. He'd just graduated from GlenOak High, where he played football. They talked and crossed paths many times that day. However, Andrew later admitted to having no recollection of their interaction.

During freshman year, they "met" again, discussing a sermon after a late evening Mass.

Romance followed.

They married on July 28, 2018.

Their son, Peter, was born a year later. Then came Anthony, the next year. They recently learned No. 3 was on the way — around the time Andrew got the virus in early September.

"Andrew was pure loving joy; that kid was just always that way," said his aunt, Becky Saffell, who's started a GoFundMe page online, to help Megan and the boys with expenses.

Perhaps a bit different, too?

"He marched to the beat of a different drum," said Andrew's mom, Sandra Schank.

But she admired how serious he was about being a good husband and father. Her heart melted over the fact he sang in German and Latin to his sons to soothe them. She respected how he found the Catholic faith in his teens, then embraced it, lived it and devoted himself to its teachings. 

Andrew could be arrogant, annoying and loquacious all at the same time.

"In conversations, he definitely liked the scenic route," Sandra said.

His dad Jeff Schank said if you asked Andrew what time it was, you'd first have to listen to a diatribe on the history of clocks and options for building one before you'd get the answer.

"But what a compassionate man he was," Jeff said.

Andrew's reasoning for not getting vaccinated

Jeff and Sandra, now separated, married when Andrew was still a young boy. They blended an almost Brady Bunch family. Jeff had three children, Andrew, Kristy and Zack; Sandra had Emily and Amanda.

Sandra said she understood Andrew's vaccine concerns.

"I was as scared to get vaccinated as I was to not get vaccinated," she said. "I was almost paralyzed ... there's so much information. I really do see both sides of it very well."

She's vaccinated now; so are her best friend's two children.

They changed their minds following Andrew's plight.

"He won't die in vain," Sandra said.

Jeff, a burly forklift mechanic with grease-stained hands and former Boy Scout leader, got vaccinated in the summer. He'd been reluctant — only because he's terrified of needles.

He'd asked Andrew when he was getting the vaccine.

His son told him he wasn't.

Andrew had moral issues. He had religious qualms. Although Pope Francis himself had urged vaccination, Andrew couldn't reconcile that aborted fetal cell lines from generations ago were used in vaccine research and development (though no such cells are in the actual vaccines).

He was worried about side effects on him and his wife, especially on child-bearing. His deep dive into vaccines was nothing new. Andrew had talked about flying to Japan, so his boys could get separate measles, mumps and rubella vaccines, not the combined shot available in the U.S., due to his similar concerns about the use of fetal cells.

But father and son didn't get into any of that. Jeff accepted that Andrew had strong convictions about the COVID vaccine. He knew a long argument would only make it worse.

"As a dad, you tip your hat ... 'I respect your decision,'" Jeff said. "But at the same time, I could bend a steel bar in half ... so pissed off I could shake him, but proud at the same time."

Deadly consequences

For the longest time, Megan followed her husband's lead on the vaccine. Looking back, maybe she could have challenged him more. Still, she had questions, too. So much conflicting information was out there. She's certain Andrew was trying to do the right thing.

"My sister is a doctor and she advised several times to get it," Megan recalled.

But Megan and Andrew were young and strong. At 5-foot-10 and 280 pounds, Andrew's only risk factor was his weight. There was just never enough to push them to get the shot.

To this day, newly-vaccinated Megan believes it's a personal choice.

"I'd told him I was OK with us not getting the vaccine," she recalled. "He was worried about us, our kids, and what would happen, Now, I have more knowledge than I did then."

Planning a funeral for your 30-year-old husband hurts.

Megan loved Andrew.

She respected him.

Maybe that's why she wants to tell others they should plan for the worst if they choose not to get vaccinated. They have an obligation, she said, to think of those left behind if COVID steals them.

"It's about how much you care for those other people," she explained. "You need to plan for your death ... It's about more than the vaccine. You could be in the hospital for six months or nine months. Do I have short-term disability, long-term disability and life insurance?"

No time machine

On Aug. 22, life couldn't have been better for Andrew and Megan. They were ready to close on a house near Firestone Country Club in South Akron. They invited family to celebrate Anthony's first birthday.

"Andrew was grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone," his dad said.

A week later, Megan felt ill. She figured it was allergies. The boys came down with runny noses. A few others in the family were sick, too, including a positive COVID test for her vaccinated dad.

Megan said she took a free test from the library on Sept. 1, which confirmed she was COVID-positive.

A few days later, Andrew's symptoms began. His test from the library came back positive, too. He went downhill fast. There was a phone call to a medical hotline and a visit from paramedics. His cough became violent. He drove to Mercy's urgent care center on Whipple Avenue NW, first thing in the morning on Sept. 8 — he found out he had double pneumonia.

An ambulance drove him to the hospital.

"It all happened so fast," Megan said.

Andrew also had a pneumothorax, a punctured lung. On Sept. 10, he was moved into Cleveland Clinic Mercy Hospital's intensive care unit. Family members say he received a variety of treatments, including a rotating bed. It's proven beneficial in treating some COVID patients.

It didn't help Andrew.

Mercy Hospital declined to comment for this story.

Andrew was allowed one visitor; he requested his dad.

For a week, Jeff saw his son every day. Together, they worked on Andrew's breathing therapy. They joked and bonded. They talked about Boy Scout days. It was strange, because Andrew would speak fine, then without warning digress into an oxygen-deprived, slow-motion speech pattern, before suddenly snapping back to normal.

"Daddy, help me breathe," Andrew said once.

Megan sent texts and photos of Peter and Anthony to her husband. Andrew had told her to stay away from the hospital. He wanted her and the boys safe. He told her to get vaccinated.

Jeff said it felt as if he was watching his son slowly drown on dry land. Andrew told his dad he wished he'd gotten the vaccine. 

"I wish I had a time machine," Andrew confessed.

On Sept. 18, Andrew was placed on a ventilator. Jeff knew it was the wrong direction. Andrew's slide continued. An infection followed. At the end, Andrew's family gathered.

A nurse presented them with 50 copies of an electrocardiograph of Andrew's final heartbeats.

Some family members have already received tattoos of the graph's image. Jeff, still petrified of needles, plans to do the same. He'll include his son's birth date, 1/20/91 along with 10/1/21.