19-03-2025
Five years after cruise ship quarantine, Grand Forks man recalls his wife's final months
Mar. 19—GRAND FORKS — Five years after the discovery of COVID-19 onboard his Grand Princess cruise left him quarantined aboard the ship, a Grand Forks man easily recalls details of the trip. It was the last vacation he spent with his wife, Kari, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and died within six months.
"We had a lot of people cheering for us," Paul Kolstoe recently told the Grand Forks Herald. "That was cool."
In spite of Kari's 2018 diagnosis of stage four neuroendocrine cancer, which had then metastasized to her spine, they decided to proceed with their long-held Hawaii plans, hoping the cruise would serve as a reprieve. Altru Cancer Center staff even found a way to schedule Kari's radiation therapy appointments — which helped manage her pain — to accommodate for the cruise, which began Feb. 21.
"The medical people were all cheering us on to get on the cruise and get going," Kolstoe said.
His wife loved to travel, and they had a fantastic time in Hawaii, he said. Kari even checked off a bucket list item: touring an island by helicopter.
But on March 4, as they approached the U.S. mainland,
the ship went into lockdown when staff learned that some passengers had tested positive for COVID-19,
Kolstoe said. Everyone had to stay in their rooms, food was left outside their doors, and they were not supposed to interact with each other.
As the ship sailed in circles off the coast, many throughout the country — and beyond — followed the complex journey.
"Suddenly our existence became known to the news media, and that grew fairly rapidly," Kolstoe said. "There were several people on the ship who they were talking to, but I think Kari kind of became the 'poster child' for the ship, because she was the lady with cancer."
People were concerned for her because they knew she needed to get back home for her next round of radiation therapy. Her pain worsened as treatment was delayed, yet she was didn't want to be seen as a "sad story."
"She didn't want us to be victims," Kolstoe said. "She wanted to point out that, yeah, she needed to get back for treatment, and that was important — but everybody on the ship had something important to get back to."
For a brief time, this was her mission: showing that it's possible to face adversity with a positive attitude and faith. This was perhaps the best distraction she could have had, Kolstoe said. As his wife did interview after interview, he supported her by being her cameraman and discussing possible questions with her in advance of interviews.
On March 9, the ship docked and
occupants were taken to Travis Air Force Base
in northern California, where
they anticipated a potential weekslong stay,
but the Kolstoes were spared from this and were able to fly home on March 13. When they returned to Grand Forks,
they had to quarantine for two weeks before Kari could return to radiation therapy.
"At least we were back at our house, and we could position her with pillows and things like that to try and minimize the pain," Kolstoe said.
The Grand Princess crew was fantastic, he said, but could only do so much to make his wife more comfortable. She recalled a nice chair on the uppermost deck of the ship, which staff delivered outside their room, but they couldn't fit it through the door. The cushions, at least, were able to be removed and brought inside.
While on the base, they shared one bed with two pillows, which Kari needed to prop herself up. Her husband rolled up a pair of jeans to rest his head on at night; she repeatedly expressed how sorry she felt for him.
One of their daughters ordered body pillows from Target, which an employee tried to deliver, but he couldn't get onto the base.
"He was trying to come up with ideas (of how to get them to us, and he thought) he might just go to the fence of the base and throw them over, so that we could have them," Kolstoe said.
One person had to go downstairs to collect their meals three times each day. Rules were made in one moment and changed or discarded entirely the next. People herded together — despite instructions to stand 6 feet apart and not interact — asking what the others knew.
There was uncertainty, especially in the early days of the pandemic, and it was especially difficult for those already prone to anxiety, according to Rhonda Dockter, psychotherapist and owner of Therapy Works Midwest, PLLC. She met with clients who never before felt their anxiety impacted their lives enough to warrant treatment. All of the unknowns had caused their mental health to drastically worsen.
Providers were generally able to quickly and easily transition to telehealth. Some were resistant prior to the pandemic, but were forced to participate if they hoped to continue providing care during a time when more people needed it.
"I think, overall, that change has been positive for accessibility," Dockter said. "But we were just super busy. You couldn't always get in."
Also in the psychology field, Paul Kolstoe was able to work remotely during the final months of his wife's life, which they spent together at his parents' lake cabin. Their children and grandchildren visited, staying in a living space inside the garage, keeping their distance to reduce any chance of infection.
"My youngest grandson had been born in the early summer," Paul Kolstoe said. "(My wife) didn't get to hold him, but she could see him through the screen door."
The COVID-19 pandemic was traumatic for many people, for the fear it caused as well as the impactful life events that had to be altered or foregone entirely, Dockter said. For the Kolstoes, the pandemic was something like background noise.
Because they had known for more than a year that Kari was terminal, and nothing would change that, "nothing was going to come along that was going to interfere with our commitment to each other to get through that," Kolstoe said.
The couple had also lived through a traumatic experience decades earlier; they lost their home in the Flood of 1997. Kolstoe believes that experience prepared them for this one, more than any of his professional training or experience. Knowing they'd gone through something so difficult, yet powered through and came out the other side, gave them strength.
Kari died on her birthday,
Aug. 17, 2020, at age 61. It was a little more than a week after the couple's 40th wedding anniversary.
Paul Kolstoe recorded his wife's funeral to later show his mother, who was in an assisted living facility and couldn't attend.
"I went over, and I stood outside her apartment and showed her the funeral through the window, and we talked through the window," he said.
That is the most challenging thing Dockter observed about the pandemic — the inability to be with loved ones, to support them during illness or to say goodbye.
"That impacts the grief process, because then there's difficulty with closure," she said.
Isolation was difficult for many, but it especially impacted the elderly, particularly those in assisting living or nursing homes, where no one could visit, Dockter said.
"The people who are already lonely and depressed were more lonely and depressed," she said.
After the loss of his wife, Kolstoe found support through his friends, children, grandchildren and Watson, his Labradoodle.
"I have our dog, who is missing her, but he seems to think I am passable, so he stays with me," he said with a laugh.
Now 66, Kolstoe still lives in Grand Forks and works as clinical director of the Life Skills and Transition Center in Grafton. He originally planned to retire about two years ago and travel the world with his wife, but his retirement plans were derailed after her death.
"As of right now, I'm planning to work another three years," he said. "That's quite a change in strategy and lifestyle, but you have to deal with what life deals you, and take it as it comes, and that's kind of where I'm at now. My agency can use me. If I were to retire right now, it would be a hardship on them. Psychologists are very hard to find, especially willing to work in developmental disabilities. There's not many of us out there. So I'm welcome at work."
