Frank M. Sandoval 'died June 18 in Palo Alto, Ca., of wounds sustained when his unit was attacked by insurgents using small arms fire Nov. 28, 2005'

PALO ALTO — He touched the hearts of Bay Area residents with his story of perseverance and courage after being severely wounded by a roadside bomb in Iraq.

But Monday, Sgt. Frank Sandoval was declared brain dead from complications following surgery last week at the Palo Alto Veterans Affairs hospital.

His family made the decision to keep Sandoval, 27, on a ventilator until seven of his organs could be harvested for donation. He remained on the ventilator Tuesday night as family members awaited a transplant team. The procedure was expected to occur no later than this morning.

"Frankie would have liked knowing that he had helped other people," said his father, Ricky Sandoval.

"I really hope someone can use his heart," his wife, Michelle, said through tears. "And if another man can love a woman as much as he loved me, that would make me very happy."

Arrangements for the funeral, which will be held in Sandoval's hometown of Yuma, Ariz., are pending.

Tribune readers became intimately familiar with the Sandovals last year when they allowed a newspaper reporter and photographer to follow every step of his recovery at the Palo Alto VA hospital from traumatic brain injury. The couple wanted the public to have a better understanding of the trials faced by wounded service members and their families.
Their journey, chronicled in a five-part series in December called "Frank's Fight," has come to a sad and unexpected end.

Needed surgery


The Sandovals returned to Palo Alto earlier this month from their home in Yuma so Frank could have surgery to implant an artificial "bone flap" — a prosthesis that would replace the portion of his skull lost in the November 2005 explosion.

Initially, the June 12 surgery appeared to have been a success. But when he did not awaken soon after the operation, a CT scan revealed massive swelling of the brain. Sandoval immediately underwent a second surgery to remove the flap, as well as another portion of his skull, to relieve the pressure.

The reason for the swelling remains unclear, and Sandoval never regained consciousness.

Neurological testing Sunday and Monday found no brain activity. Family members, who had gathered in Palo Alto, were told by surgeon Stephen Skirboll that there was no chance of recovery.

"We know that there are people out there who really care about us," Michelle said. "I know people were hoping for the best for us. And then this happens."

Ricky Sandoval, Frank's father, saw the decision to donate his organs was an extension of the way he lived his life — helping others.

"All he wanted to do was serve his country and make the world better," said Ricky Sandoval, a Department of Homeland Security official serving along the California-Mexico border. "That's what he was trying to do when he enlisted. He was such an honorable person. Sometimes God takes good people, and Frank was a good person."

At first, he beat the odds


Frank Michael Sandoval was the captain of his high school wrestling team and a big fan of Superman. He joined the Army in wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He was in his second tour in Iraq and working as a member of a hand-picked team training Iraqi soldiers when he was badly wounded by an improvised explosive device (IED) on Nov. 28, 2005.

At first, his family was told he might not survive 24 hours. If he did, he might never walk or see. doctors said.

But Sandoval, who was awarded a Purple Heart and Bronze Star, beat those odds.

Last year, when he arrived in Palo Alto, home to one the VA's four polytrauma units, Sandoval began what would be nine months of painstaking rehabilitation to re-learn how to perform the simplest of tasks — including walking, speaking and even swallowing.

Constantly by his side was Michelle, 22, who sometimes was accompanied by their now 5-year-old daughter Joelena. Sandoval had both of their names tattooed over his heart.

Their story, which was filled with highs, lows and the couple's steadfast will, captivated readers. They responded with letters, cards, e-mails — and checks.

The VA received more than $83,000 in donations for families of veterans being treated in Palo Alto. And readers donated about $43,500 to a trust fund for Sandoval.

Part of that has gone toward a four-bedroom house in Yuma that the Sandovals recently purchased. They were preparing to close on the property this week.

Sandoval had returned to Palo Alto in an upbeat mood. He was recovering well from a broken left femur suffered in an October fall. He also was much more mentally engaged, taking a more active part in conversations, although his speech could still be difficult to understand.

Both Michelle and Frank were looking ahead, not behind. He was in the process of being medically retired from the Army. They had just celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary.

"I'm not happy with myself yet," he said recently. "I want to be more independent so she doesn't have to help me as much. But I'm trying."

Sandoval was excited, but nervous about this next step in his recovery.

"I'm worried that I won't wake up," he said the day before the surgery.

Medically, adding the "flap" was important to protect the exposed portion of Sandoval's brain. But it also was important to his self-image. He didn't like having to wear a helmet, even though Michelle constantly told him that it didn't matter one bit to her.

In the days following the surgery, the large contingent of Sandoval's family gathered at the hospital — including Ricky, his mother Bea and his three siblings. There also was a steady stream of VA nurses, doctors and staff from the polytrauma unit visiting his bedside.

"Everyone here felt like we knew them so well," said Lisa Freeman, the Palo Alto VA director. "No one expected this, after everything they had been through. It makes you realize how fragile life is and how you can't take it for granted."

A few days before surgery, Sandoval reflected on his life after the roadside blast and everything he had endured.

"I know the accident was meant for me," he said, "because I don't think anybody else could have survived it."

And then he looked off into the distance.

From the Oroville Mercury Register