MarrowMe: David Williams's quest for a (bone marrow) match

Living

2011-11-09T21:49:00.003-08:00

Well its been a while since I wrote and that was for a lot of different reasons. There is that idea of wanting to feel normal and every time that I post this blog I am reminded that in some ways I am not. I also have been playing keep-away-from-the-doctor for the past six months and that is not a good thing to be playing.

So I am back and I recently was checked by the doctor am pleased to report that my cancer has not increased in my body; I am now someone that is living with cancer instead of a person that is dying from it. Cancer is still cancer but the context around it really does matter. Dying from cancer keeps one from dreaming past today but living with cancer means that tomorrow truly does matter. I can get a little more excited about life because I know I still have one.

I will never forget that day I was diagnosed--it is seared into my memory--but it doesn't have the same hold on me as it once did. I still get nervous when I feel pains in my back or my bones start to hurt because I know they could be signs of cancer returning but I also know that I am living today and that is a good thing. The Apostle Paul once pleaded with God to remove a thorn, or weakness in his life, that was in his side and God responded with words that I can understand better today: " My strength is made perfect in your weakness Paul." I like that because I know that without cancer I would not be as sensitive to what He wants of me.

At the end of this past summer I decided to go for a hike with a friend. It started off with a 5 mile trek up to Marion Lake but when I got there I got ambitious and I decided to hike further. We reached Lake of the woods and I decided to hike further. 30 miles later we had returned to the car and headed home--I haven't hiked that far since before cancer. God's-strength-in-my-weakness revealed itself to me that trip. If felt so good to go that far and I was taken back by the beauty of being in nature once again. I was blessed by that experience and it reminded me that no matter how rough this road is sometimes I am just never alone.

My wife, of nearly ten years, has been strength to me as well. We celebrated her birthday a few days ago by having a much needed date night. Will we sat and discussed life together I realized that I cant imagine my life without her in it. She supports who I am and fills in the blanks of what I am not. Isn't that God's strength too?

The more and more I look I find His strength everywhere and I realize that I truly am a man not dying from cancer but living with it. It's a good day to live.

Your friend,

Dave

It will not return void

2011-05-16T14:36:00.000-07:00

I got a phone call today; it was from the Ford Family Foundation. They informed me that I was their top scholar this year and would like me to give a speech representing our class at a banquet being held in June. They want me to share my testimony and why the scholarship means so much to me. I am really struggling trying to figure out what to say. I am truly thankful for the scholarship—it is a full-ride for the next five years—but it is hard to really put it all into perspective.
A couple of weeks ago I saw my doctor for my one-year check-up. It has been a year since my Bone Marrow Transplant and I was to find out the status of both of the types of cancer that I had. I drove up to Portland with my dad; it felt strange being at the hospital again. Even the smell reminded me of the transplant and how horrible that process really was. I chose to suppress those feeling when I was going through the stages of Chemo Therapy and the Transplant but now I had to deal with them.
Our first appointment was to get a PET scan that would show if any tumors still remained. I would smile at the nurse and joke with those that would administer the tests but deep inside I was really scared of the outcome of the test. Shortly after the test I had a bone marrow biopsy done: this is where they drill into the hip bone and take a sample of the bone marrow. Needless to say it hurt.
My dad and I knew that next we would see the doctor and would find out the results of the tests and status of the cancer. Looking back I don’t think I was afraid of what the results would say; instead I was overwhelmed with the fact that I would have to do this for the rest of my life. Life couldn’t just consist of family, school, work, and friends. Life would always be interrupted with Cancer.
The results were positive in the fact that my Large B-Cell Lymphoma is non-existent at this point but I still will need to deal with my Leukemia at a later date. Knowing this seems to temper my excitement of achievements that I receive in other areas of my life. Cancer will always be that constant reminder that I am mortal and have a shelf-live. It is something we can all relate to I am sure but for me I can’t easily separate that line of thinking from the rest of my life.
So when I got the call from the Ford Family Foundation I was excited that I was selected for the scholarship because it truly is a privilege and an honor to receive this award but in the back of my mind I can’t help but think of the next doctor visit.
What this has afforded to me is the awareness of how important it is to make a difference in other people’s lives. People matter so much more to me than ever before. I really want to do some good; not out of fear of dying but out of fear of wasting time. Someone told me once that at a funeral there is room for eight people to carry the casket and that I better make sure that I have eight people willing to do so. I never forgot that and I want to make sure I have invested into at least eight people that call me friend.
So as I prepare for my speech I am going to tell them the truth: this scholarship is important to me not because it secures my future but that it gives me the opportunity to help and reach out to others. I will tell them that education opens doors that would be otherwise closed. I will tell them that believing in me is humbling and is not received lightly; and lastly I will say that their investment into my life will not return void.
It is the same thing I tell God each day: “Lord, your investment into me this day will not return void.”

50 miles long

2011-03-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

Well I had my doctor appointment yesterday; everything came back fine. I still find it strange that my anxiety goes up as each appointment approaches; perhaps that will never go away.

Next month is my one year anniversary of my bone marrow transplant. I go to see my doctor in Portland to have scans done to check the status of the cancer. I really am not looking forward to that trip; it reminds me of what I went through up there and also what I have to do again eventually. But for right now I will enjoy my life and everything God is doing in it.

Those that know me know that my life has been a wild ride: it has had some really high points and some tremendous lows. Yet through it all, I still trust the Lord. I don't believe that he is going to remove every negative thing that happens; but I do believe that He is with me through it all. I just trust Him.

My sister just ran a 50 mile marathon; it took seventeen hours, blistering feet, and will-power. I spoke to her shortly afterward about the experience and told her how proud I was of what she had done. Towards the end of the conversation I began to realize that I would never fully understand what it took for her to run that long of a race. I could never experience the aches and pains she felt that day nor the underlying thought of giving up. I wasn't with her when she ran in the dark and I didn't help her when her blistered feet nearly stopped her from reaching the finish line. The only ones that could understand that process were those that ran with her.

She had posted a picture on Facebook showing her and her friend during the race. This woman looked equally as tired but equally as determined. Together they had inspired each other; they had pushed each other; encouraged one another; and raced together. Years later, when they see each other, they will both smile and only they will know why: it is because of that relationship that was formed in trial.

This ride called life has afforded me the opportunity to have friends like you that when we smile at each other it is deeper than most. When we we embrace we hold each other just a little longer because of the trials that we have faced together. I am glad that I faced cancer with you. You have seen me through some tough times and I will never forget your faces or the times you pushed me up the hill.

However, there is someone that has helped me more than most: " I taught Israel how to walk but they knew not it was I who healed them." Hosea 6:3

God, I thank you, because on this road of life you have been with me every step of the way. I didn't realize it at times but I see it clearly now and I just want to say thanks. You have been a good friend and leader of my life.

Your friend for life,
Dave

We made it!!

2011-01-17T14:29:00.000-08:00

I am another year older, I know that it may not sound like much to me and my family it is a big deal. It is a big deal because a year ago we not only celebrated turning 30 but there was this underlying idea that perhaps that this was a celebration of my life in its entirety.
Today we know that I made it through a rough time and I can now start looking ahead. However as I start to look ahead I glance back on the two years that was and I am all smiles.
You could not have painted a more perfect picture than what I just went through. Sure Cancer is horrible, it truly is, but it also gave me life.
In November I was given the opportunity to share in the joy of a friend's wedding. When you stood us next to each other it would be hard to comprehend the "common ground" that we shared. I am black, he is white, I am younger, he is...well wiser. However we shared something that transcended all of that. We went through cancer together. My daughter asked me how we knew each other. My response was simple, "He was my friend in some of daddy's darkest days."
As I watched the ceremony I could not help but shed a few tears because we made it, he was starting a new part of his life and so was I.
A dear friend, and a pastor received the news that he had cancer a few months back. I remember that day and I quickly said a prayer for him and his family. My prayer was not just for healing but for strength to endure all that cancer brings. I knew that he soon would face the bombardment of issues that comes with the package-deal. I just was given the opportunity to spend a few brief moments with him and I was excited to see that he had "made it" as well.
I don't like the term "cancer survivor" because, to me, it describes someone that just made it. I like to envision a runner running a marathon. I picture a tired battered runner that doesn't allow the aching legs and exhausted body to overcome the triumphant spirit that charges through the finish line. Their hands are raised as if to say, "I made it; sure it was hard but I was harder." When I saw my friend the pastor I saw someone that said, "Sure it was hard; but with God I was harder."
I also was given the opportunity to spend my birthday with my family this weekend. We shared jokes, stories, but more importantly we shared laughter. It had been a hard year emotionally for us but we made it. It was the first time I can remember when "cancer" did not enter our conversation. We talked about life and living together instead. Our relationship had a sense of normalcy again. We had made it.
On the way home from Central Oregon I was driving and would glance over and see my wife and kids sleeping in the car. It was good to see my wife at rest; she has not had a lot of restfulness this past year. She was the one burdened with the responsibility of being the communication link on how I was doing. The task of managing our family was also hers while I was busy managing my health.
That night we went out, just the four of us, and spent some time together. Again, it was nice not to have "cancer" apart of our dinner conversation. It made me realize that again we had made it.
My kids still pray for me every night. They pray that God would heal me and make me strong. There is nothing that humbles you more than to see your children act stronger than you.
Cancer still has a part to play in my life, but it is not a leading role any more.
I had a doctor appointment last week. I dread those because my fear is that they will hand me a negative report. Every time that I glanced at the date on my calendar my heart would sink into my stomach.
So the date finally came and my daughter and I went. I am still trying to figure out if I took her because she had asked to go or if I just didn't want to face it alone. They drew my blood and sat me in the room to await the news. Time seems to go slower in the waiting room than any where else--perhaps that is why they call it a "waiting" room.
The doctor came in and greeted me with a smile and we started to discuss immaterial things. He reached for a piece of paper that held the information about my health on it.
"Well Dave, everything looks okay for right now. We don't want to do anything with you and I can honestly say that everything looks normal."
Normal...my shoulders dropped as I let out a long awaited sigh...normal...two years I waited for that word to be linked to my life...normal...I don't need "great" or "perfect" anymore...normal. I made it!

Your friend for life

Dave

A sense of who I am

2010-11-18T16:51:00.000-08:00

I had to go to my check up today. I have been putting it off because I knew what it meant; I would have to address cancer again. Truly I am not that scared of it anymore but I wish I didn't have to talk about it anymore.

It would be nice if life was like a book. In a book, once you finish a chapter, you move on to the next one. Sure some of the ideas and characters move with you but you still don't have to re-read the same information.

Currently there is over three hundred people that read this blog each month, I am deeply moved that you all are concerned enough to check on my status, each person has entered my life at different times and in different ways. Some have just started to get to know me and others have walked along side me for years.

Because of that fact I really wanted to stop writing; in fact I have struggled with this post for weeks. Can people just know me and not know about my fight with cancer? Is it time to put this away?

Every time I think it is I am reminded that it is not by another doctor appointment. Any time I feel back-pain I quickly shudder at the thought of another tumor.

None of this really steals my joy, I truly love my life, but it sometimes hinders me from introducing others to it or restate it to those that have known me for such a long time.

As I sat in the doctor’s office today I noticed a woman sitting by herself in the corner of the room. She had no hair and her eyes looked dark and sunken in--it was the first time I felt embarrassed that I no longer showed signs of my cancer. I smiled at her and asked about her day. We got to talking and I saw her countenance beginning to change. Life was being reintroduced to her.

It made me realize that it is important that I be exactly who I am; I am David, a man still dealing with a sickness.

A new friend and I were talking about this the other day. He had this to say, “Being a friend with someone that has cancer is never easy but I wouldn't have it any other way."

This blog has been a great avenue for me to share my feelings with all of you. I have tried to be as honest as I can because I really want you to see me clearly.

So today I went to the doctor, nervous to address it once again and left there feeling renewed in my sense of purpose.

Your friend for life

Dave

A new chapter

2010-10-19T19:17:00.001-07:00

"I thought cancer would put my life on hold; instead, it has put it into gear."

I wrote that to a friend the other day and didn't realize until now how true that statement really is. It has been a wild ride for sure, and a some days I just feel like calling it quits but I can also say that I am actually really living, and doing it the right way!

I have always been one that enjoyed life, if you have read my blog you can see that I love the outdoors. Even now, as I type this, I can imagine the rain falling down on the fir and pine trees in my favorite woods. I visualize myself tucked under a great Cedar, protected from the falling raindrops, taking it all in.

You just can't beat it, God's creation is a wonderful thing and I love being in it.

However the "ups and downs" of life tended to keep me away from a sense of peace or would make me feel rushed through my experiences. I would speed to the river to fish knowing that I only had an hour instead of taking the time to enjoy ride. On our family vacations I would be there in the flesh but my mind was on the job still.

So even though I thought I enjoyed my life I never truly did, behind my smile was a sense of urgency to find something that eluded me...rest.

I felt I had to have the answers, be the man, always upbeat, on-the-go, and everything in between. It had its rewards though, I have learned how to play many instruments, seen some amazing places, and have been with some great people. Yet when I look back I see a blur, because I never stopped and smelled the roses.

On thursday I meet with my Doctor to determine how much and how often I get Chemotherapy. Even as I write that I smile. I smile because somewhere I am sure it bothers me but I really am not that concerned. It is not because I have my head buried in the ground but because I see things pretty clear now.

I don't feel rushed, not rushed through the day, and not rushed into death. I get to live; I get the opportunity to soak in todays rain.

My wife and I moved to Eugene a short time ago on the believe that God had a plan for us there. We didn't have any friends there but we knew it was the right thing to do. Normally I would be pressing myself for anwers and a good gameplan that we could follow. Instead I just sat back and relaxed. I wanted to enjoy the day and let tomorrow be tomorrow.
Sure I planned a little for our future, but the future did not consume me.

I love to hike, the longer and higher the better. I have taken in some great views, and on my desk I have little rocks taken from mountain tops and buttes of each climb I have done. On my bookshelves you will find pictures from the top and tucked away behind a few pictures of fish I caught you find a small picture of meadow. It is a pretty picture but nothing out of the ordinary. It was taken while I was hiking to the top of Broken Top mountain.

The sad thing is it is the only picture I have from the middle of a hike. It serves as a reminder for me to stop and enjoy the middle of the road. It is not a sprint through life but a marathon. The scenery is actually beautiful if I just slow down a bit.

I am starting to remember what my wife and I were laughing about yesterday. I made a fire in our fire place last night not for the heat but for the view. Life is good today, full of memories, lets not miss them because we are chasing tomorrow. I did that, it doesn't work, enjoy today.

So thursday I will get the report, good or bad, its okay. My kids don't need to see a man crippled by fear or worry and my wife still needs her hugs. So it will be a great day!

Your friend for life!

Dave

Trust the driver

2010-09-21T16:40:00.000-07:00

Well, I am going back to school. I start Monday. It seems so strange, almost feel like a kid again. I know it is the right thing to do but it is hard to get all excited.

I met with my doctor today and they want to do PET scans every three weeks to monitor the growth of the tumors, and then it seems instead of them talking about a cure they want to discuss extending life as long as possible. It makes me smile because I know that is their way of saying, we don't have a viable option.

It doesn't scare me because I know anything can happen but it does prohibit me from thinking to far ahead into the future. I can see today, imagine tomorrow, but that is about it.

The disappointing thing is that I think I am finally coming into a comfortable place. I am starting to figure out a little bit of who I am and how valuable time is. How to you try and build for a future that you may not be apart of. I find myself talking to my wife about life after I am gone. I will say things like, " you should buy a duplex, that way you and the kids could rent out the other side." I know she notices, but she to has trouble seeing my life in the future. We tend to try and soak up as much time together right now.

I really think, in some respects, you can "will" your way through life, and if I had my way, I would be around for a very long time. However, I have to be a realist and understand somethings are just beyond my control.

I guess that is what makes this ride so special to me. I truly believe that, God, has a perfect plan, and my life, or death, plays a part in it and it will work out perfectly.

So today, I will go and get my school books and prepare for my future. It's as if I am a carriage horse with blinders on. I can see just enough in front to know that I am not in any immediate danger but not far enough to plan the router. I have to trust the driver. He knows the route and the best way to go. Along the path he will turn me, and because of my blinders I can't even see what we just avoided. I am completely in His hands.

Feels good, not the tumors, but the touch I feel from my driver.

Your friend for life

Dave

Content

2010-08-24T10:26:00.000-07:00

Well, back to the doctor tomorrow. A few more test and then they will be able to determine whether I will start chemo every three months or six. I will also be told whether or not the transplant worked. So tomorrow is going to be a big day.

The apostle Paul once wrote that in all things he has learned to be content. I think I am getting there myself. Throughout this endeavor I have been faced with the choice of letting Cancer dictate my actions and emotions or rise above it. More and more, I have decided to rise above it. I don't right to let circumstances change how we feel emotionally.

I want to be "level-headed" in all things, not get overly excited with good news and not end up in utter dispair with the bad. Either I trust God or I don't. I choose to trust Him. It is amazing how much more peace I have when my peace is not found in circumstances or objects. I don't need that new car or that great trip to just be excited about my life and what is going on.

If tomorrow, when I get tested, poked, and prodded; and the cancer is miraculously gone; I have made a vow that it would not change my feelings towards my maker. He is just as good today, I love HIm and I love those He has graced me with in my life, nothing is going to change that.

Would make for a great story though wouldn't it?

I don't want to sound numb to life because I am not, I love everything about it. Each day I get the opportunity to bless those around me and be blessed by others. I get to laugh with my wife and kids, play with my siblings, and sit and read a good book surrrounded by nature. How could I be numb when life is so refreshing? I guess that is my point, why miss it because life isn't exactly what we would like it to be? WHy ruin all of it because I have cancer? Why should you?

So tomorrow I will head back to portland, then off to the Zoo with my family and maybe catch a sunset while playing on top of Rocky butte! The best thing is, its going to happen regardless on what I hear tomorrow, because the same God that I love right now, will be right next to me forever!!!!!

YOur friend for life!!

Dave

Hand and hand

2010-07-15T08:19:00.000-07:00

Well the past few weeks have been quite eventful. I have been camping, fishing, hiking, and boating with the family on the positive end of the spectrum; and I have been vomiting, exhausted, sore, and bed ridden on the negative end.

Every unknown bump or soreness makes me wonder if I still have Lymphoma. Each time I vomit serves as a reminder of the chemo therapy that I will eventually go through again. I pick up a newspaper and I read an article about how those that are diagnosed with cancer before age 30 end up getting a secondary cancer later on in life. It can be rather depressing some days.

Just when I start to feel good and dream of what my future could be the harsh reality that I still have cancer sets in again. It becomes hard to see a future beyond cancer.

I am getting the impression that this is a burden that I will carry for quite some time. Interestingly enough it has become easier to carry. It doesn’t affect my daily life as much as it used to.

Cancer has not prevented me from smiling and enjoying the time I have here, no matter how long it is. I have fished more, laughed more with my wife, and played with my kids more this year than any year previous. It is how life was supposed to be lived.

My daughter, who is five years old, still prays for me every night. The past week her prayers have become more intense. Instead of her just praying for me to become healthy she has extended it to my sickness being gone and that I get the opportunity to feel better. Her reason for praying…she says it’s because she loves me so much. It is as if she can see my fears that I try to hide from her.

I know she does not fully grasp the situation but I do know that she senses the sickness. It has become a part of our daily lives. My kids talk often of my stays at hospitals and ask when I will have to go back, they enquire about how sick I am, “Am I just a little bit sick, or a lot sick?”

My wife will see me vomiting and you can tell that all the fear from this past year enters into her mind. I try my best to live life without cancer around my family but some days it gets the best of me.

It has been tough, but we have been finding strength through us going through it together. Whether it is my daughter’s prayers, my son’s hugs and the perfect time, or my wife, holding my hand, and giving me her famous smile. We have just decided to enjoy our time in spite of the worries of our life.

The bible says that God will not give a person more than they can bear, I believe that. Life can be hard but not hard enough to take you down. The funny thing is that God may not but we often times put more on ourselves than we can lift.

I did that for so long and my back is pretty sore, but today I walk so much lighter; with my family in hand and smiles on our faces.

Your friend for life
Dave

Another year

2010-06-17T11:03:00.000-07:00

Well I got sick this week; it is funny how quickly you can be brought down to earth. I was starting to feel good again and a mere cold has left me feeling weak and nauseous all over again. Just as my family was preparing to move on I got a sharp reminder that I still am not quite well.

It has made me think of the cancer that still lingers in my body, do I really have 10 years or will it become a problem sooner? Will they come up with a better cure or will I have to do another Bone marrow transplant? They are just fears, which if allowed, can consume every portion of my life.

It is hard to dream about a future when you know that you’re not cancer free. It is as if there is a great wall built between year ten and year eleven. My kids will be 13 and 15 and I will just turn 40. Life should only be beginning at that point but instead I have to think of the end game.

I try to put it aside when I am around my wife and children, it is not healthy to live in that fear, or burden them with it. But at night, or when I am alone, I find that it creeps in. Every cough or headache brings it to the forefront of my mind.
It can paralyze you if you are not careful.

My plan is to go back to school but even that plan has holes. I would be graduating and just starting a new career and then my ten years would be up. What would I do then?

It almost is easier when I just had to fight the cancer, I had to focus on living through that day, getting over the Chemo therapy, and maintaining a positive attitude. Now I have to do that but try not to let the future scare me.

People have told me to paint a positive picture and that will give you a positive outlook. I don’t think those people have cancer. I would consider myself a positive person but even I succumb to these fears.

I think the fear comes from the lack of control over my life. I cannot dictate what happens in my future and that scares me. The funny thing is, neither can anyone else. None of us know how long we get to be on this planet. Tomorrow could be it or fifty years from now we could still be celebrating life. Only God has that answer.
Yet there is something to knowing that death can be a little more certain then just a ambiguous date out there. I know that I have a cancer that can kill me and that the cure for it could lead to more cancer or other issues that could plague me the rest of my life. I also know that I could end up being just fine. The key is I know that Cancer is still here and whether I like it or not still affects my life.

Living with cancer and fighting cancer, remarkably, are two very different things.
I am a fighter, I was raised that way, life has been hard for me but I have never quit on it. I have found that I have not learned to enjoy the time in between the battles. It is as if I want to face Chemo instead of the thought of when I would have to take it next. I would rather deal with a bone marrow transplant now then think of it for the next ten years.

It is because I can control it better if I can wrestle with it, fight it, and struggle with overcoming it.

But I am learning, rather slowly, that God wants to be in control, not me. This time I have to put down my dukes, lower my shield, and enjoy the peace that He has given me for as long as I can.

It is hard, harder than the fight, but I have to do it if I am going to have peace for the next ten years.

So, I look outside and dream of fishing and hiking, but know that I can’t because of a simple cold; I will just smile and know that God knows best. Maybe tomorrow I can grab my fly rod and head to my favorite river and maybe year eleven will be just that…another year!

Your friend for life,
David

What a year

2010-06-02T12:37:00.000-07:00

Well it has been a year since I was diagnosed. I still can't believe that it has been that long. Been a lot of tears and hardships but a lot of joy was found as well. I have been extremely blessed.

People have been asking me what my status is recently and I want to take the time and give you an update on where things are.

I still have cancer, it is in the back of my mind but it is there. The battle isn't over yet. I should know in a few months if the Bone Marrow transplant worked which would eliminate one of the cancers, the far more serious one.

Soon they will be putting me on a maintenance Chemo regiment which takes place roughly every six months. It is far less invasive and the side effects are nominal. At some point, I will have another bone marrow transplant and that should cure my other cancer.

This past few weeks I have been slowly recovering and am starting to get some of my strength back. In fourteen more days I can start being around crowds again, which means I can go to church and be with my friends on a more frequent basis.

Each day is one small step to me feeling normal again. Looking out on the horizon and instead of seeing more Chemo therapy soon I see a much needed break. I don't have to endure the cycle of building up my body just to have it torn down again by the Chemo Therapy.

In the fall I am planning to run the Portland Marathon, I have started training for it now, and will be ready by then. It is in honor of those that have supported me the past year. I can't thank you all enough for your prayers, kind words of encouragement, hugs, phone calls, text messages, and so much more. It has all helped me get to where I am standing today.

God has been so good to me, I am not out of the woods yet, but I have learned to be so thankful for the day I have right now. Each day is a treasure to me and I want to do my best to prepare for it.

My friends Justin and Rachel set this blog up for me to discuss my feelings and to keep, those that are concerned, updated on my progress. I will continue to write and share with you all what is happening, as I am sure this ride is far from over!

My good friend, and fellow cancer survivor, told me to not plan to far ahead it will only lead to stress. It has been valuable advice for me. So I will focus on today, pray for another one, and be thankful that God has helped me in the past.

So here's to another year, may it be as good as the last one, and may we all be here to enjoy it!!

Your friend for life,,
Dave

Finding my way

2010-05-18T21:54:00.000-07:00

Well I am home now. It is a great feeling to hold my wife and kids again.

I look in the mirror and I am a figment of my former self. My skin is lighter and I have these black dots all over. The doctor says it will go away and I must believe him.

At night I toss and turn thinking of one thing. What if this didn't work? I know the percentage for those cured is 90% but you just never know. Sure I shouldn't think like that but I can't seem to help it.

Also I think of how most my life I had an answer for when things seem to fall apart yet this time I am fresh out of ideas. It is hard to think of what I am suppose to do with my life when I know that at least every six months I have to go in for more Chemo therapy and a maximum of ten years from now I will have to do another bone marrow transplant.

All these fears sometimes make me even more tired then I am right now. They cripple me from doing much of anything that day.

It has nearly been a year since I found out I had cancer and much has changed for the good but it seems as if the unanswered questions continue to pile up.

Just when I seemed at my end a bible verse came to mind that I read awhile ago. It didn't mean much to me at the time but it means everything to me now. It was Psalms 61. " When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I..."

I could just imagine David, with all that he went through in his life being exactly where I was at right now. You just want to see past the fears of tomorrow, pains of yesterday, and the inabilities of today. I was looking for a place of perspective. Somewhere to weed out the fears and see the great things that have happened and are happening to me.

Funny thing is, I found, as David did, that you can't find that rock on your own. You have to be led to it. The only way for that to happen was to ask. Fear has a tendency to not only cripple my mind for close my lips. I forget to share with others how I truly feel and because of that I loose perspective.

My prayer life becomes quiet and I wonder why I feel so dry.

So this is more of a confession then it is a status report. So if you ask how I am doing I promise to tell the truth. I am fine but just a little scared.

I will still smile and I wont forget my obligations but now is a time of healing for me both physically and spiritually. I need rest, and in order for that to happen I need peace.

Thank you all for reading this and sharing your love and support

Your friend for life

Dave

Its a battle of attrition

2010-04-23T01:24:00.000-07:00

I have gotten to know my floor mates quite well the past week up here. The mother, the teacher, the young kid. Even my nurses and doctors have stories to share if you take the time and listen.

Each one is battling something, I noticed a nurse rub her middle finger as I spoke of my lovely wife and kids at home. The tan could still show the ring that once shown on her. As I walked in the halls I ran into the "teacher." He is a good man, a little older than me but just as scared. Cancer had visited him too early as well.

We exchanged pleasantries and then both of us looked passed our smiles and asked the serious one. "How are you doing?" Which means, do you want to give up yet, are you scared that you wont make it, do you feel you will let your family down?

His shoulders sagged as he spoke, "It is a battle of attrition...it is all I can do to get out of bed to take a walk..."

See, this chemo kills you, the nurses say when they inject the stem cells into your body that it is your new birthday! Think of that, if you could imagine, it feels like you are dying. You are scared that the nurses don't give you to many sedatives for fear of not waking up.

But you try not to think about it, it is hard to do when you are facing someone who feels just like you do. So as the days go by each of us keep our heads down so not to bring up the subject.

Today I felt horrible, I haven't been sleeping and I just was nervous that I would not make it through it. How could one body be this worn out and still recover. They kept telling me, because of my age, they were able to give me higher doses of Chemo, this was one time I would have rather been an old man.

I just felt hopeless, I was actually thinking of my death and what I would say to those close to me if I had the chance. But then I saw the "teacher" after we spoke something changed in me. I got mad.
I was mad at myself for forgetting the true reason why I am here. It is what I tell my children and I had already forgotten it. I tell my children to be someones hero today. Be better, love everyone. Yet here I was waiting for my death.

Shame on me, it is a battle of attrition but it is one I should win. Because contrary to what some believe, I think death is a choice. I don't have to die today!! I can't control tomorrow but today I choose to live!

I know that I am not through the worst of this procedure yet, and I am willing to guess there will be a few more days that I would just rather not go through, but I promise you, for my family's sake, I choose to live. My daughter has not said goodbye to me yet, and my son still has hugs coming, and I still have a best friend in my wife that I still owe a dance too.

So tomorrow, when I rise, I will forget about what is behind me and press on towards the goal. I will be a better light for those around me. I may still be in the battle with them but I don't need to be afraid.

I am sorry that I have chosen to cut the visitations down, I just need a lot of rest right now and want to make sure that I get that. Thank you all for your prayers and support. God bless

Your friend for life
Dave

Today's the Day.....

2010-04-21T10:00:00.000-07:00

Hi fellow friends and family of Dave,

It's Rachael here with a note from Joe (see below - originally posted yesterday to the Team MarrowMe Facebook site). Justin and I were able to see Dave Monday and yesterday up on "the hill" (OHSU), where he's being taken care of by the creme de la creme of doctors and, more importantly , the creme de la creme of dads. Joe has been at Dave's side, literally and figuratively, since day 1. 11 months after the initial diagnosis, it's go time for bone marrow transplant #1. For the week and a half leading up to today's BMT - and for an undetermined number of weeks to follow - the two guys are calling their (small) studio-ish hilltop hospital room "home." The room is hidden away on a quiet side of the hospital, but the larger living spaces down the hall give them more room to spread should they want it, and provide visitors and patients alike with some pretty amazing east-facing of views of Portland and the mountains. The 14th floor penthouse digs are only a year old, and truly are as nice as any I've seen in a hospital.

I can't speak for either of them, but it has been my perception that they could always use comforts of home (people, letters, fresh home cookd food for Joe - Dave can eat only hospital grub.) The one thing that I know they can always use more of is entertainment, specifically podcasts and good movies; Dave is speeding through podcasts quicker than we can find them, and netflix instawatch only gets you so far. Email me (rachaellkk@gmail.com) if you have ideas/input/offerrings in that arena.

Please keep Dave and family in your hearts and thoughts today (and always!); bone marrow transplants are, by all measures, pretty nasty procedures. Dave's innate strength and positive outlook, coupled with Joe's tireless advocacy, boundless love and attention to detail, are all points on the Dave side of the D.W. - Cancer spectrum. Do keep in touch via facebook and this blog, and we will all do our best to keep each other informed and to post timely updates.

Optimistically,
Rachael LKK

Dave's dad Joe writes on 4/20/2010: "Day zero with Dave's treatment. Tomorrow is bone marrow transplant day. Pray for a quick and strong graft! Dave is strong and ready to roll!" Now that the chemo phase of the transplant is complete, Dave will receive his own harvested stem cells. It will take 5-10 days for these cells to reach his bone marrow and to start duplicating (this is known as grafting).

Worked hard to get here

2010-04-11T08:03:00.001-07:00

"Well Dave, you have worked hard to get here." My Doctor said as he shook my hand. I had signed my last waiver for my transplant. My Will had been made out and everything seemed in place. I didn't know what to do with his statement though. Usually that is reserved for a accomplishment or a point in your life where you had seen some victory.

What did my Doctor mean by what he said? Was he referring to the nine rounds of Chemo? The bureaucracy that I had to push past through to get a firm date and a plan of action?

That day I had to go to a class and listen to a staff member explain the dangers of transplants and what to expect. I looked across the room and I saw many that were older than me and some that were actually younger. We all had one thing in common, we were all scared.

Some of us would mask it by never looking up, others by finding needs to get out of the chair and leave the room for a minute, and me by a constant smile. I would tell jokes that would make the room chuckle and it would allow me to escape from my feeling for a moment.

We all had our way, and we were entitled to it. No one could tell those in that room to pray more or to just talk about our feelings, they weren't in that room.

I saw a wife who's husband had just been admitted for his transplant. Her glasses tried to mask the tears that she had been crying and those that were trying to well up in her eyes. She was scared too.

What do you do when you just aren't strong enough? You act like you are. You have know choice. The serviceman that gets up every morning to face the enemy on the front lines of Iraq does their duty regardless of how they feel. We can't tell them how to do it, or how to even cope with it. They are getting the job done.

I have learned throughout this period that I should do a little less judging of others and a little more cheering. Maybe a little more joke telling, and a little less talking bad about those that are in my class called life.

Those in my class were scared, each had a loved one with them but the interesting thing was none of them could glance over to the one that sat next to them. Fear kept them from looking into the eyes of the one they cherished above all others.

I know what that is like, I sometimes struggle looking into the eyes of my beautiful wife because I am scared to leave her. I can hug my kids, joke with my family and friends, but my wife... my soul mate...best friend...I just can't look at her.

I have learned that you have to look anyways, you have to hold her hand and just stare. Let her see you and take a moment to soak in her eyes. She deserves that much, and if this is the last day in my home then let it be a good one.

The teacher of the class began to stare in my direction throughout the class. It was because I would stare at her and smile back. Perhaps because it made her feel comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. It made me realize that we, the patients, were not the only ones that have gone through this trial. This teacher has gone through it as well. She knew that some of my classmates would not make it through. It was a fact, and she, better than most, knew what the chances were. It had to be hard for her to try and offer hope knowing not all will pull through.

I liken it to a General asking his men to take a hill knowing some would die to accomplish the task. How do you ask your men to do it?

Because you have to? That is it...you have to

So I I can offer her a smile, letting her know that I understand. Each Doctor and nurse I meet I smile because I want them to know that I am grateful. Grateful for there encouragement regardless of the situation. Some of them had just come from rooms where the patient wasn't doing well, perhaps even dying, yet when they see me, they put all of that aside. Such strength.

The least I can do is reciprocate that to them as well.

In my class I sat next to a older man who had a son that appeared to be my age. The father looked weary. He held his head in his hands as the the teacher spoke. Occasionally the son would touch the fathers shoulders, trying to offer understanding and love with each rub of the shoulder.
Yet the father could not lift his head. Fear kept him down, love could not bring him out. It was a choice he had made, I know because, at times, I made the same one.

I learned that I must choose love no matter what. I can't hide from those that offer me love. I don't stand in judgement of that father, and perhaps today is a different day for him. I understand how hard it is to lift the head and smile into the eyes of a loved one. Maybe that is why the psalmist David in the bible called Christ the lifter of his head. Maybe he felt the way some of us feel today.

I have learned that when I can't lift my head, Christ will lift it for me if I ask. When I am not strong enough, He takes over. That gives me comfort. The funny thing is even if you don't believe, it won't stop Him from helping because He loves no matter what.

Down the table from me sat a couple of younger women. They were the daughters of a woman that was going in for her transplant the same day that I was. The mother had that quiet strength about her. She looked battered by the Chemo therapy but she did not look broken. But what nearly brought me to tears was looking at her daughters. They looked strong as well.

I thought of my two kids, have I sown enough into them at such a young age that would make them strong if I had to go? I have been a good enough example? Sadly, I have not gotten the opportunity yet because they are too young. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself but was instead reminded that I had work still left to do on this earth. I wanted my kids to be as strong as those two women. That mother had done it right.

The amazing thing was it took cancer for someone like me to see it. Had I met her on the street I would have passed her off as just some lady. I wouldn't have seen the strength that I saw at that table. She hid it with humility and meekness.

I learned that I need to do the same, I don't need to appear to have all the answers or the best but instead help others achieve that goal.

She did not appear scared of dying, she seemed scared of the process. If she should not make it through it would be okay. Her children would be fine. I know she knew that, you could see it on her face. I will look for her when I am in the hospital. I have a lot to learn from her, just looking at her face will remind me.

To the left of me sat a husband and wife, the wife was twenty five years old. She had lost her hair but not her will to live...it sat next to her. I could see his hand on her leg, gently telling her that he loved her and would make sure she was never alone. What a man, I wanted to tell him how much I admired his love for his wife.

I watched her for awhile, it got me thinking. There have been times I have been so sad because I was so young. Yet I looked at her and I saw a newlywed couple that have not experienced the joys of holding there child together, that last fight where you finally realize that no matter how hard it gets you just aren't getting divorced.

They haven't had many Christmases together. It made me grateful for what I have experienced. I have not only held my daughter but I got the chance to hold my son as well. When they were scared I was the one that was given the opportunity to hold them. I could watch them when they slept. They would get to see me in the coming weeks.

This woman would not see hers, at least not yet. That must be hard, but as hard as it may seem, I know they will be okay, because they have each other and will make the most of their situation.

I have learned that as hard as I think I have it, someone has it harder. So stop feeling sorry for myself. It is never as hard as it appears and everyone is going through things. Instead, I am going to help others go through there trials and spend less time focusing on mine, because someone else is doing the same for me.

As I left my Doctors office, I began to realize what he meant by what he said. I had worked hard, but not by going through chemo, but by going through life. I have learned so much, and know that I have a lot more to learn as well. So I had a choice to make, fear tomorrow, or continue to work hard at life.

Tonight we are having a party with a few friends and family, it was a goodbye party of sorts. A chance for all of us together and laugh some, and just tell each other that it will be okay. Even if you can't make it I know those that read this feel the same way. Cancer has knitted our hearts together.

I want all of you to know that I am so thankful for your prayers, support, kind words in an email, that phone call that you thought was insignificant, that twenty five dollars that seemed so small to you, or the times you ran for me, or came and saw me. It all mattered and has shown me so much. Who you are matters and what you have done will not go forgotten.

I will see you on the other side of this one way or the other, I say that without fear, but I also say that with so much hope for my future and faith in the Maker that controls the life I live.

Your friend

Dave

I will take the shots

2010-04-06T22:00:00.001-07:00

So I was trying to explain to my kids tonight why I am going to be gone for so long. My daughters eyes were beginning to well up as she began to realize that I would be gone. Her lips quivered when she asked me, "How long daddy?" My son quickly saw that the mood had changed and began to cry himself.

I had to try a different tactic. I could see that they needed something else to show them that this would be a good thing in the end. The weight of me being gone had to be balanced by hope.

So, instead, I begin to remind them of when they had to get there shots. It was on Grace's birthday and each of them had to take five shots. My wife and I took them but it was I who had to take them into the room. I hated the task of holding them down as the nurse pierced their skin. Each of them screamed as the blood began to leak out. Sure it is the Dad's duty but I would rather be the one that comforts them when it is done.

Since that day they ask me if they have to take shots again and I have to tell them that they will. Fear grabs a hold and you can see it in their eyes. The pain they felt is brought back to memory and they don't want to go there again.

I tell them I will be there to hold them even wipe away their tears but it does nothing to take away the fear. So one day I took them to one of my appointments. They got to see the nurse poke me with the needle and draw blood out of my arm. Both of them saw me grimace but not break. Instead I smiled at each of them and they smiled back.

One the way home my son apologized to me for crying when he got shots. I nearly had to pull the car over, I was brought to tears. My son, three years old, putting aside his fears and recognizing my pain. I told him it was okay to cry but not be afraid.

So tonight I thought I would try something to take away there fears. I told them that each shot I got from the doctor was one less that they would have to take as they got older. I was taking their shots for them. Their pain would become mine to endure.

Grace's eyes lit up as she realized the significance of my statement. It was less pain for her because I would take it instead. She was no longer afraid of her shots, and was okay with me going because it would help her in the long run.

She could finally see past her fears.

It made me think of how much mercy has been given to me in my life. How many people have taken "shots" for me. I have been scared at times and been where my daughter is now, yet someone would step in and take the burden off my weary shoulders.

I am so grateful for that, my Saviour has been so good to me. Whether it has been a Don and Dolores Minson, a Justin and Rachel, a Curtis and Justyn, a Peter Storton, a Lori Ketchum, a long lost mother, a new set of sisters, a old set of sisters in Esther Beth and Naomi, an aunt Patti and Uncle Bill who have become such dear friends, a grandma in Grams, a Granddad in Jim, a history and a new Dad in Mark, great in laws who defy the myth of troubled in laws, a life because of my parents Mom and Dad, a purpose because of my wife Cynthia, a future because of my kids, and many more, they have all been those who have stepped in line, hands raised, asking to take a shot for me.

So as Monday quickly approaches and fears start to enter in my family I will remember to stand up and take a few shots of my own. Thank you all for helping us get through this time.

Your friend

Dave

The precious things

2010-03-26T01:13:00.000-07:00

Well I am a couple of weeks from my first bone marrow transplant. Wow, if someone would of told me that I would have gotten cancer, I would have believed that, but two cancers? Unbelievable.

I just got done watching a show about the 1st marines and there battle at Guadalcanal in WWII. The last scene just broke me. It took place on a ship and it was a cook handing a cup of coffee to one of the marines. His tattered uniform and apparent cuts on his arms captivated the scene. He caressed the cup as if it was his wife back home. It was precious to him.

It made me think of this past year. It has been a tough one at times. Chemo has been hard and the news of my future even harder to swallow. I have been told that they can cure this cancer but my next bout is somewhat uncertain. I have ten years at the maximum to deal with that.

A couple of days ago the weather was just perfect. I looked outside my window and the sun was shining bright. It bekoned me to pump up the tires of my bike and go for a ride. I havent done that since I was diagnosed. I was so excited to put my helmet on. I grabbed my IPOD and pressed play.

The road was perfect that day. The sun was beginning to set and I was riding once again. Half way up the hill on one of my favorite rides I felt something I haven't felt before. It was exhaustion. I was feeling dizzy. My body wasn't the same. I thought of turning back, I had a good excuse right?

As I came to the top of the hill I noticed tears rolling down my cheek. They weren't tears of sorrow, it was deeper than that. I couldn't quit, I had to keep riding. I had to feel "normal" again. No matter the cost, I had to keep riding.

Shortly after the road began to level out and I began to ride to a steady cadence. I thought of my future, my wife, my kids, and my past. More tears flowed, it hurt to push down on the pedals but it didn't matter. I wanted to feel like my life was my own once again.

I used to ride forty to sixty miles a day on my bike, today it would only be twenty. My heart could ride forever but my body can do very little. As that soldier did, I will do as well. I have learned to hold dear to the precious things of life. My future is uncertain but my present is clear.

The mountains were so beautiful on that ride and as I came in view of my home my smile was just as big as it was on longer rides. I did it, I didn't quit. No one would have known if I had, but yet I still rode.

I look at my fight with cancer the same way. I could give in, and no one would know. They would all be at my funeral and morn the loss. However, I would know, just like my bike ride, I would have quit at the hill.

Those marines fought for that island inspite of the fact that they were surrounded without food and support. They could have quit, people would have understood. Yet they remained, and they fought despite the odds. When they entered that ship they held those coffee cups with more meaning then ever before. It was precious to them. It represented life to them.

I will do the same, instead of being dissapointed that I can only ride twenty miles I will rejoice at the chance to sip a nice warm cup of coffee. It is precious...

Your friend for life,

Dave

A shot a day

2010-03-11T22:37:00.001-08:00

"Okay, we need you to give yourself two shots a day. Now it will make you throw up and they will burn going in, but it will get you ready for your transplant."
You can only laugh, because Cancer is the gift that just keeps on giving!

I am close though, my transplant is scheduled for the 5th of April. I can see the light at then end of the tunnel. Now granted, even after the transplant I will still have to deal with my other cancer but it is a lot more manageable than what I have right now. I will have ten good years to deal with that.

Even as I write that I am shocked at how much more I value a "good" year. I spent the better part of my young adult life trying to create a "good" life instead of just living it.

You can do a lot of bad trying to do good.

Please remember that, I know I will.

I have written before that I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge, begging the Ghost for another chance at life. I still feel that way sometimes. Don't get me wrong, my life is not as hard as others I hear about. I am so thankful for what I have been given. I am thankful for my family and friends that I have but I want the opportunity to show how thankful I truly am.

Perhaps that is why I have two cancers, one to scare me to change, and one to make me never forget how blessed I am. It is that toy that your child left perfectly in your path to your bed late at night. It hurts but you also have to laugh because it just reminds you of them. Or that meddlesome rock that is conveniently located underneath your bed mat while your camping underneath the stars. They both hurt but they also quicken the mind to good memories.

You can't have kids without the pain of the toy cars that poke your feet or the starry nights without the rocks.

People have asked me if I believe God can heal me, I always answer the same, " I know He can, I have seen Him do it to others, but He is healing me by allowing me to go through this."

So I hesitantly go to the refrigerator, grab the two white boxes that contain my gentle reminders. I grit my teeth, tense my stomach, and give myself the shot of the day.... remember it will get me ready for my transplant, and perhaps prepare me for life in the process

Your friend

Dave

If only I had hair, I would pull it out!!!

2010-02-24T08:49:00.001-08:00

I truly think it is a blessing that Chemo makes your hair fall out, because the process just makes you crazy. I think you have to have a lot of patience's during this time or you will just go crazy. I just got done with more Chemo therapy and had the tests done to determine if I can go straight to my first bone marrow transplant or more Chemo. I felt great about that until I heard that the Doctor from OHSU is out of town for a week. Which could force my Doctor to give me more Chemo.

I just had to laugh when I heard, because this roller coaster is going to go up some days and then down others. I can't stop it nor can I slow it down. So I just have to lift my hands in the air and ride.

I have determined that what I enjoy most about roller coasters are the scary parts. The hair pin turns that the steep pitches that rise and fall is what makes me come back to it. If the Roller coaster was just a straight ride it wouldn't be something that I would go on.

Sure there are parts that are scary, but I trust that it was built right and that the operator knows what he is doing.

It wasn't always that way, when I was a little kid I would only go on the small roller coasters, the bigger ones scared me. They were so tall and they went so fast that the ride intimidated me. So the rides I would go on would be just enough to scare me but not enough to stop me from riding.

Each ride I went on prepared me for a bigger ride that, in time, I would build up enough courage to go on. Theme parks are set up that way. Each ride is perfect for someone and there will always be those rides that kids can dream about going on later.

I know my life has been set up in the same fashion. Each ride I have been on has prepared me for this one, and this one that I am on is preparing me for another down the road. The bigger the ride the more you pay for it, but the more you appreciate the end as well.

I feel the same way today about Cancer and all that is found on this ride. I truly can smile because I have learned so much, gained so much, and found I can trust in the operator and I can trust that it was built perfectly for me. So I can close my eyes on those scary parts and lift up my hands in the air when I am falling and at the end of this thing I will be all smiles!!!!

So thank you all for going on this ride with me, it truly wouldn't be as easy had I gone this alone. It is far from over, and I am sure there are a few more hair pin turns ahead, but we can all just look at each other and smile because, at the end, it would had been worth it.

Your friend for life,

David Williams

I am here again

2010-02-13T20:04:00.000-08:00

Well I haven't posted in awhile.

I apologize for that. I have been really focusing on my wife and kids lately.
My son asked for a stick of bubblegum today and it really struck me because I can relate.
See he really wanted a piece of gum and was deeply sadden when he couldn't enjoy the taste of a juicy piece of gum in his mouth.
I know what that feels like. I too want to feel what it is like just to have a "normal" life again. I am ready to move past this trial and start anew again. However I feel that this will not be the case. I think I am on a road that is longer than I anticipated.
I feel bad though, because I just wasn't the best example to my wife and kids for so long and now that i figured that out I really want the chance to be better. I feel like scrooge telling the ghost of Christmas future that I want a second chance. Maybe I can help the "tiny Tim's" or focus on more than building my future.
Monday I will find out if I am ready for a bone marrow transplant. I truly hope that I am because I don't know if I can endure another round of Chemo.
It is so hard, it beats you up and brings you close to death, and you just feel like giving up. However I never will, I love my family too much to give in to this sickness.
I just glanced at my son, he was hiding behind a piece of artwork that we have in the house. He has given up asking for bubblegum, and has decide to, instead, enjoy the night. I have decided to do the same. I will put my concerns on the shelf and bask in the love my kids have for me. Tonight I will "snug" with my wife, and we will speak of how much we love each other and leave cancer for another day

Your friend for life

Dave

Lending a hand in honor Dave's 3-0!

2010-01-17T01:59:00.000-08:00

I (Rachael LKK) must apologize for my extreme tardiness as, in last Saturday's post, I wrote of my intent to continue the "how to help" thread that Sunday. Here I am, a week late but with a good excuse: Dave is such a superstar that he posted nearly immediately after being released from the hospital last weekend. I didn't want to detract from the honesty and beauty of his post by writing immediately afterwards which, on a blog, would have put my words (literally) above his.

Onward....

For those of you who don't know, today - January 17th - is David's 30th birthday. 29 was the toughest year of my life, and (based on my totally unscientific and generalized observations) was among the most difficult spans for many of my close friends & family as well. Only now that I'm squarely on the other side of things can I appreciated the challenges and resulting growth, and this "after-the-fact" illumination seems to be the pattern most people follow.

David is, as we all know, not the least bit typical. His reflective nature has helped him to face his hurdles head-on, and has allowed him to recognize how his significant struggles have helped him to grow and change. David is a planner and a dreamer, always looking ahead to tomorrow. Despite this tendancy, and thanks in some part to the cancer, David has recognized the value of stopping the sprint towards the future and instead focusing on living for the moment. The abrupt changes brought on by the cancer have resulted in extensive self-reflection on David's part, specifically around the questions of who he is to those he loves, and how he expresses his values. As an old friend of David's, I can say that he is in many ways a different person today than he was just one, or five, or ten years back. His self-reflection, and the personal growth he's embraced over these past 8 months have shaped David into an (even more) amazing friend and person.

Perhaps I'm selfish, but I want to have the opportunity to celebrate David's 40th (and 50th, 60th, 80th, 88th and 1/2...) WITH David sharing in the revelry. I know that everyone reading this feels the same, and that reconciling our love for Dave with our inability to "fix" his disease can be emotionally trying. While we can't as individuals eradicate his cancer, we can certainly provide meaningful support of all kinds to him and his family. Here are just a few ways. Please add to the list, offer specifics and/or feedback.

1. Keep in touch. Write, call, post on facebook.... you won't always get a response, but David & fam should know that they are never far from our thoughts.

2. Talk openly with Dave about his disease and your fears; even more importantly, listen and respond when he wants to talk about his battle and the resulting emotions. I'm a big proponent of David using this blog as a way to express himself and to update his community (only what he feels comfortable sharing) on where he is physically and emotionally. This means that he may have posts that are not uniformally optimistic. We love David even when he is feeling sick or sad - and he needs to know that our love isn't contingent on him being in good spirits.

3. Talk to your friends about David's life and battle (but honor David's right to privacy - don't disclose that which David/family haven't openly shared!) Show them his picture, tell them a funny/touching story, talk about Grace and Jack, explain the unique & challenging path David has walked in his young life.... help them to see him "real" and multi-faceted person we know and love. One surefire way to spread the word is by giving out "MarrowMe" "business" cards and/or inviting them to follow the blog. David's genuine smile translates well to any audience or language.

4. The more people who know and care, the greater our pool of resources. The specific resources that we can provide all generally fall into a few categories: Energy/skill/help, habits, goods/money. I could dedicate whole posts to each of these - for now, here are a few for each category.

*Energy/Skill/Help: Things you can DO to provide support for Dave, Cyn, Joe, Lara....

-Take Grace and Jack for an afternoon adventure, just for fun.

-Cook and deliver a meal (call and check on timing and food preferences!).

-Offer a ride (to Dave or one of the Eckstines/Williams/kiddos),

-Help with cleaning, take on a minor household responsibility (maybe walk Oscar while Dave is in chemo?), or run an errand. Unfortunately, those nagging details don't end when cancer begins. (Note: "What can I do to help?" can be too broad a question and is often met with "Um...oh, nothing." A specific "Can I bring over dinner this Sunday and watch the kids so that you two can have some time alone?" is more likely to receive a "Yes, thank you!")

-Offer a skill that is short supply (and one for which the family has expressed a need.) Can you make sense of medical bills? Fix a leaky faucet? Fill in for a shift at one of the Coffee Stands? Clean gutters? Give a great massage? Be creative - little things can have a huge impact.

-Fund raise and/or help improve MarrowMe's visibility. We're flying by the the seat of our pants and would love professional help in the form of marketing, design, publicity, grant writing...... Money can't make David better, but it sure can help to access the tools and people that can.

*Habits: Behaviors you can integrate into your life on behalf of Dave & Family.

-Buy your daily mocha from Joe and Lara at Coffee Depot! Support them as they support David, and get delicious coffee to boot!

-Integrate David & family into your daily/weekly rhythm. A regular call, donation, bag of foodstuffs.....make a routine of it.

*Goods/$$: Helping to fill the funding gap with items and/or donations.

-Cancer is expensive, and not just the health care costs! David's not working (lost income) and is not always able to do what he used to at home (lost labor). Meds, nursing, transportation etc. all add up (extra expenses). Every dollar helps - give to the family when you see them, mail them a check or use the handy paypal button on this blog.

-Remember that the cost of cancer extends beyond Dave and Cynthia's enormous burden, and that the expenses can't always be quantified. Joe and Lara are at the front lines of this battle, roles that have resulted in them sacrificing (without any whisper of resentment or need for recognition) time, money and energy. They do what so many of us wish we had the ability/capacity/skill/strength to do. Their immutable love and immeasurable support for Dave is deserving of our gratitude. Our appreciation can be expressed in a variety of ways, including verbally - but also financially.

This is just a short list to start us off. Please add to - and act on it!

There are many ways to wish David a happy 30th; let's combine efforts and help to give him the gift of good health for his 31st.

*RLKK*

Finally home

2010-01-10T17:07:00.000-08:00

Well I am home now, after 6 days in the hospital. I have a few more gray hairs and my face broke out like a teenagers! What am I suppose to do with that?
I can only help but laugh because, truly, there really is nothing left to do. I am tired.
The Doctors, of course, said I have fought hard, and that they all shouldn't be this hard. But again, I am tired.
You really can't quite though, even if you wanted to, your kids would be hurt and it would be just one more hurt you add onto your spouse. I have often wondered if there was a breaking point where you just finally said, "enough." I even thought of asking people that question, but of course, they would think I was suicidal.
It is totally justifiable of course, because it really has nothing to do about me. I am a fighter, I can deal with the pain of all of this, but at what point do you say your family has endured enough? Is there a breaking point? Of course that question is to remained unanswered because, unless you are me, in my circumstances, you wouldn't have the answer.
I have always been that tough love kind of a kid, and I like to think I still am. If someone where to ask me how to deal with Cancer I would tell them to stare it in the face and fight it with all you have. But I guess I just wonder if that is a little bit selfish.
My Dad just spent the last six days with me, took time off work, just so I wouldn't be alone. My kids miss their dad and my wife has to deal with that. Is that right? Should your sisters have to worry about you? What about your parents or friends? I just wish I had an answer to that one.
However I promise you, I am not quitting, I am just pondering. And my friend Rachel told me this was the place to do that.
But instead, when my wife and kids get up we will play some games or watch a movie, and truly enjoy our time. I have learned that it is so valuable. I will try and forget that I thought these thoughts, and focus on exactly whats in front of me.
I have a couple of weeks off before I do it again. I like that because, I intend on walking again and getting back in shape. I want to be ready.
My daughter just walked in, and what I love about children is they don't care about the past, they live in the now. She can't even tell I had been crying. She just wants to sit next to me as I type. She holds her little doggy, and patiently waits for me to finish so we can spend needed time together. "Daddy, what is that?" as she points at the scar for my IV (or port.) "Well, someday when you are a lot older, I will tell you about it sometime. I promise you..."
So as I told the nurses today, see you in a couple of weeks

Your friend for life

Dave

Not Dave (Rachael) Posting While Dave Fights the Good Fight

2010-01-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

Hello from Portland, where I - Rachael LKK - am posting on Dave's behalf. This special-edition remote posting is dedicated to all loyal MarrowMe readers, but especially to those not in Bend with David, Cynthia, Grace, Jack, Joe, Lara and their lovely brood. I know it is tough on Justin and me both to not be able to visit Dave & family more often, to lend a hand, or to provide some much-needed respite. I imagine that there are many more like us - loving friends and family wanting to offer a hand but out of arm's reach - reading this blog. How we can help from afar will be the theme of today's and tomorrow's postings, but first some much-needed comic relief in the form of a super-sweet-yet-somehow-hilarious shot of David from the archives (specifically, the summer he and I met - 1997 - when he was a mere 17!) Anybody remember the name of the small fellow beside him?

On to updates: David is still in the hospital after a particularly trying round of chemo. Google "ICE" (the acronym for the three drugs they are giving him) and chemotherapy for more details on the treatment. It isn't kind to the cancer, but it isn't kind to the non-cancer portions of David's body either. Case in point: David is notorious in our house for his love for sleeping on the floor. We'll make up a bed only to find him on the carpet in the morning, blankets piled up under and on him both. Despite this proclivity for sleeping well in uncomfortable places, he as voiced his desire for a night or hundred in a real - not hospital - bed. David longing for a bed means that he's hit a level of discomfort unimaginable to most of us.

The real bummer about his 1-night stay morphing into 5 nights is that he remains in the hospital largely due to the side effects of the chemotherapy, most of which cannot be adequately addressed at home. These include, but are not limited to EXTREME nausea and all that's associated, fatigue, bleeding of the bladder (!) and unbelievable boredom. Note that the last symptom (the one that can be adequately addressed at home) may seem like small beans to many of you, but this is DAVE we're talking about. The guy practically vibrates with activity, sleeps at most 5 hours a night and needs to multi-task the way most of us need to breathe.

Reading about the nasty symptoms (physical or otherwise) plaguing someone I love inevitably makes me want to know what I can do to relieve some of the pain. I am going to post more tomorrow on just this topic, but have to bow out now as I am fighting a "not-so-good-but-rather-typical fight": the flu. I invite you to comment on this post with any thoughts you have - creative, from personal experience, tried-and-true - as to how we can offer support to David and his loved ones. I'm especially interested in how those of us who are outside of the Sisters/Bend/Redmond triangle can help.

Here's to healthier 2010 for all, but especially for our nearly-30 year old David!

Rachael Kurynny for Dave & MarrowMe

Chemo again!!!!

2010-01-04T20:10:00.000-08:00

Well I guess it is that time again, another round of chemo. This one is a little harder than the last cycles that I went through. I have to stay in the hospital for a few days. I have been asked a few times today if I am scared for tomorrow. My answer has been, "No, I wont be until morning." However I can feel myself getting quiet, my head is starting to hurt, and I can feel the weight of tomorrow on my back.
I look at my wife and I see a stress that hasn't been there in awhile. I snuggle with my kids and it hits me that I wont be able to enjoy this for a few days. My daughter is soon to cry again at night asking mommy where I am. It starts to hurt to think about and I run to some comfort. I find my guitar and begin to play. I rush to the piano and take out my frustrations on the ivory keys that form beautiful sounding chords as I press them.
I am done asking God why. It never gets an answer. Instead I look at my circumstances and I plead for more of Him. It is hard to see my life lasting much longer, and I know the only way that it is possible is because of Him. So He has become my only hope now.
I know some that read this may not be religious but I promise you that if you walked into the Cancer ward you would at least think about it for one second.
There are two types of people that sit in the chairs next to me there. Those that have hope and those that don't. Most of the ones that do have hope not in themselves but in the One that can be there for them in a way no one else can.
So, tonight, as the fear of the future sets in, I will shift my focus more on Him and be strong again. My wife does not need a man that is riddled in fear and my children don't need to see a dad of sorrows. So I will put down the guitar, step away from the piano, and hold them close once again.
Tomorrow morning I will get that knock at the door once again, that one that signals its time to go. It will be my Dad, with a smile and a cup of coffee. I will smile back, but inside I will be scared again.
As we arrive at the hospital, I will hug the nurses, they have cared for me so much. I will ask them about their day and we will discuss life outside of this cancer ward for a second. But inside my heart will be racing. Then I will sit down and get prepared to receive the needle and the Chemo that comes with it.
So yes, I am scared, but only you will know it,

Your friend for life

Dave

Time for the new year

2009-12-27T20:00:00.001-08:00

Well we all made it through Christmas, some of us had better ones than others but nonetheless it is a great reason to be close to your loved ones.

It was extra special for me this time. Not because we had more gifts or that I have more family to call my own. Or because I have found such great friends. It was because for the first time in a long time i feel somewhat content.

Soon I will facing Chemo again and the thought of having to do two bone marrow transplants doesn't really excite me. Yet for some reason I find myself happy about where I am and my place in this world.

I have been working so hard to gain status, a sense of purpose, acceptance, wealth, and peace that I found myself never achieving it. I would have glimpses of what I longed for but never a home to reside in.

Over the course of this past year it has all changed. I went through every emotion that I am sure most people go through when facing death. I was depressed, hopeless, angry, determined, excited, anxious, angry again, and the cycle went on. However I found that even though the emotions were moving in circles I was still growing and the peace that I longed for was beginning to come.

I have spent the majority of my short live not expressing how I felt inside. I would do my best to cover it up with a smile and try to deal with it myself. Fortunately Cancer does not allow you to do that. I had to speak up about my hurts and pains physically. In doing so I noticed that it gave people the change to help me through my pain.

Over a period of time it began to soften my heart and I realized that it could help with my emotional pain as well. All I had to do was communicate how hurt I was and someone could help me.

I first tried it with my wife, and as hard as it was, I was shocked at the response. She really wanted to help, and she could help! It was as if a piece of my heart was being put in place again. So, nervously, I stepped out there with others, and I found the same response. Each time I opened up gave me a sense of belonging and it brought me such peace.

I realized that those that did not want to hear me, were not people that I needed in my life at this time. I stopped searching for worth or love in people that couldn't give it to me.

My relationships started to get stronger and the outside world stopped taking such a toll on my life. Cancer stopped having its hold, and the world all of a sudden started to feel right. I could focus on things that mattered and let go of the things that didn't.

Maybe that is what the Lord wanted me to learn through this trial, I don't know. I do know I am okay if it lasts longer. I would be thrilled if I was miraculously healed today, but, if not, I love who I am and love my life.

From the outside world my life must seem out of control, or it would appear to be turned upside down. You would be correct in that assumption. However what I have learned is that life sometimes is just that way and by God's grace it can seem as peaceful as the top of a hill after a long day of hiking, listening to the sound of the wind moving through the valley.

I have just been so blessed with the knowledge that everything I have is a gift from the Lord. Not deserved, but given because He loves me. I thought of what I could give him this Christmas in return. I decided that I would treat His "Gifts" as such, I would honor them and cherish them for what they are. He didn't have to bestow these things on me but He did. The very least I could do is acknowledge it and care for them as long as I live.

Happy Holidays,
Your friend for life

Dave