Cathleen Allison/Nevada Appeal
Chance made David and Paul Jensen identical twins, but devotion kept them together until the end.
The 61-year-old brothers shared most everything in their lives. A birthday. A history. A home.
Diagnosed within six months of each other with lung cancer in 2007, the Jensen brothers plugged along, sharing a house on Clear Creek Road that was often filled with David's family.
Uncle Paul never had children, but he really didn't need to, said niece Terri Zittel. David's kids were his kids. David's grandchildren called them both grandpa.
In February, the Vietnam vets were admitted into the VA Hospital in Reno where they shared a room.
The cancer had progressed for both of them and Uncle Paul was the worse for it, said Terri.
She moved into her dad and uncle's house and began to prepare it for their return. David told her if they were going to die, he wanted them to die at home.
But the end was fast approaching for Uncle Paul, and Terri didn't think she could get the house ready in time.
He'd lost all his hair to chemotherapy and couldn't speak because he was too weak.
"My Uncle Paul was in really bad shape and my dad didn't even look sick," she said.
Lying next to him in that hospital room, David knew Paul's time was limited.
So when the doctor's wanted to move David into a room across the hospital to try to clear fluid from his lungs, he refused.
Terri didn't argue with her father. She knew it was no use. There was no way to get him to leave his brother. He'd made up his mind.
"He said he wanted to die with him," she said.
On Feb. 19, Terri talked to her father on the phone. She said the fluid in his lungs was so bad, that he sounded as if he were underwater.
"He said, 'I can't do this honey. I can't do this anymore. I love you," she recalled.
Two hours later the nurses called to tell Terri her father was dead.
When she got to Reno, David still was in his hospital bed, still in the room he shared with Paul.
The nurses brought her a chair and a cup of tea and she sat with her father's body, with her uncle's labored breathing behind her.
"Uncle Paul knew. He could shake his head yes and no and he knew. I'm sure he knew my dad was gone," she said.
Paul never did get the chance to express to Terri how he felt over David's death. On Feb. 25 Paul died too.
Terri said the family will have a small memorial for them. Then their ashes will be combined with those of their father and another brother and spread along the American River, as David requested.
Though she is heartbroken at the loss of her dad and uncle, Terri understands why her father had to go.
"He could have lived longer," she said. "But he didn't want to leave his brother."
- Contact reporter F.T. Norton at ftnorton@nevadaappeal.com or 881-1213.