Marine held death at bay for son's birth, Alex Coreas USMC

[MillRatUSMC]

Marine held death at bay for son's birth
Michael Kiefer
The Arizona Republic
Jul. 6, 2003 12:00 AM
Alex Coreas was dying.
He had already had his stomach removed,
but the cancer had spread and the doctors had given him a month to live.
His wife was three months from giving birth to their son.
But Alex Coreas was a U.S. Marine, a man who would tell family and friends that if they needed him, they only had to say when and where and he would be there.
Out of a sense of respect and duty, he got himself up from a hospice bed to attend his father-in-law's funeral.
And by force of will, he stayed alive until his wife went into labor.
Barely conscious, he sat by the delivery table, cut the umbilical
cord and held his son before losing strength and returning to his
hospital bed.
The next day he roused himself so that he could be a father, hold his son again and say his goodbyes. His nurses were astounded.
"He was like a new person," says Cheryl Dunn, a hospice
administrator. "He was talking, smiling. I just couldn't believe it."
He lived that way for five days, and then, as he promised his wife
and his brother, he let go.
Alex Alberto Cornejo Coreas died on June 25. He was 34.
Always the strong one.
He was born in El Salvador in 1968 and came to the United States with his family when he was 15, first to Chicago and then to California.
Where he attended high school, and finally to Phoenix.
He was dark-skinned and determined, short but heavily muscled.
"Very strong," says his brother, David, a truck driver from
Peoria. "Of the family, he was the strongest in all aspects,
physically and mentally."
His sister, Jackeline Alarcon, a state correctional officer,
remembers him as her guardian.
"He was so protective of me.
Every day I think of him, I think that he's not here to protect me," she says.
Six and a half years ago, Coreas joined the Marines, against the
wishes of his mother.
As a Jehovah's Witness, she opposed his bearing arms.
But he thrived in the Marines and planned to be a career soldier. He saw combat in Afghanistan in 2001, sent with the first Marine
reconnaissance troops to go there and was rotated home to Camp Pendleton, Calif.
In July 2002, Coreas began to see Shawna Swearingin.
They'd dated before he went to Afghanistan but drifted apart because they lived so far from each other.
He was then stationed at Twentynine Palms,
Calif., and she was living in Peoria.
Shawna Coreas became pregnant last November.
"They burned up the roads between here and San Diego every weekend," says Sherry Davis, Shawna's mother.
Alex was having stomach troubles and his doctors were treating him for ulcers.
Last December, he was diagnosed with gastric cancer.
In January, surgeons removed his stomach, appendix, and part of his esophagus.
But it was too late.
The cancer had metastasized, and doctors gave him a year to live.
In March, he and Shawna decided to marry.
Her father drove her from Phoenix to Las Vegas; his Marine roommate drove him from San Diego.
They got married.
But the cancer worsened rapidly, and after suffering a third bowel
obstruction, Shawna says, "they gave him a month to live discharged him and sent him here."
A separate tragedy.
In April, Shawna had ultrasound photos taken of her unborn son. She and Alex feared it was as close as Alex would come to seeing his son.
The day turned tragic: Shawna's father, a retired Phoenix police
detective, had driven from his home in Dewey to visit Alex in the
hospice in Glendale. On the way back up Interstate 17, he flipped his truck and was killed.
"I'd never seen Alex cry before," Shawna says.
But he insisted on attending the funeral.
His spirits and his condition deteriorated.
He was often unable to speak, tortured by the tubes down his throat. He could no longer eat, but he wasn't ready to die.
"I don't want to go yet because I'm waiting to see my child," he told his brother, David.
As his sister, Jackeline Alarcon, says, "He asked God to at least
keep him alive until the baby was born."
The baby was not due until July 3, but Shawna's doctor decided it
would be safe to induce labor on June 18.
When Shawna told Alex, he said, "I'll be there, nena (baby). And then I'm going to let go."
"Just stay a couple days so I get some pictures of you holding your son," she replied.
But she told him that if he was in too much pain, then yes, he should go when he had to.
She checked into Thunderbird Samaritan Hospital in Glendale.
Alex was living in a Hospice of the Valley facility across the street. The hospital and hospice arranged for him to wait in a hospital room until Shawna was ready to deliver.
At 1:53 the next morning, the delivery room called to say they were ready for Alex.
Cheryl Dunn and hospital staffers sat him in a special chair and wheeled him downstairs.
He needed morphine for the trip.
Alex couldn't speak, but he held his wife's hand through the final
moments of the delivery.
Then the doctor handed him scissors and asked him to cut the umbilical cord, holding the baby within his reach from the chair.
It took two snips, but his hand was strong and steady enough for the job.
Then the doctor swept the baby onto his father's chest.
"He was overcome by the moment," Dunn says.
He started trembling and fell ill, and as he was wheeled back to his own room, the nurses thought they were watching the last goodbyes.
"I love you, babe," Shawna called out.
"It was an incredible moment," Dunn says.
A few days as a family.
The next day, however, Alex was strangely energetic. He was back in the hospice, awake and asking about his son.
Shawna and the baby, whom they named Alex David Coreas, moved into Alex's hospice room.
It was the only time they ever lived together as a family.
Alex tried to help his wife as she changed diapers.
He fed bottles to the baby.
He even talked about taking a last vacation to Rocky Point.
"He wanted to be near water," Shawna says.
On June 24, five days after the baby was born, Shawna's car broke down on I-17 while she was on her way to a doctor's appointment.
Alex was upset to hear about it.
"Later that night, he went back into not being able to talk and not
being coherent," Shawna says.
His wife and his son and his brother and his mother gathered around his bedside for the vigil.
At 4 the next morning, Alex Coreas died.
But he had lived to see his son and namesake.
He posed for pictures.
Then he let go, which is everything he said he would do.

Semper Fidelis amd May Alex Coreas USMC Rest in Peace.

Ricardo

[thedrifter]

THE FINAL INSPECTION

The Marine stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes wew shining
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you Marine,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other check?
To My Church have you been true?"
The Marine squared his shoulders said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays
And at times, my talk was tough,
And sometimes I"ve been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Through, I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though, at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here,
They never wanted around
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod
As the Marine waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God,
"Step forward now, you Marine,
You've borne your burdens well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's street,
You've done your time in Hell."

TO ALL THAT SERVE,
SEMPER FIDELIS


AND WHEN HE GOES TO HEAVEN.......

TO ST. PETER HE WILL TELL, ........

ONE MORE SOLIDER REPORTING SIR....

I SERVED MY TIME IN HELL......


Sempers,

Roger

May He Rest In Peace....