Steve Oberst Medical Bills Fund
Donation protected
Meet My Dad Steve:
It was about two years ago that my dad went in for a routine checkup. He walked in to the doctor's office feeling a little tired and left with a diagnosis of stage IV prostate cancer...
As the doctors at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America explained, cancer runs in our family. And it gets more and more aggressive with each generation. Dad just turned fifty. And his life hasn't been the same since he left the doctor's office that day. His treatment plan is extensive, but has horrible side effects and leave him exhausted and on oxygen. He has developed a secondary cancer due to the aggressiveness of the disease.
It was about two years ago that my dad went in for a routine checkup. He walked in to the doctor's office feeling a little tired and left with a diagnosis of stage IV prostate cancer...
As the doctors at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America explained, cancer runs in our family. And it gets more and more aggressive with each generation. Dad just turned fifty. And his life hasn't been the same since he left the doctor's office that day. His treatment plan is extensive, but has horrible side effects and leave him exhausted and on oxygen. He has developed a secondary cancer due to the aggressiveness of the disease.
Dad He is on a chemo regime right now to keep cancer from spreading but it is not curable. You can find him most evenings sitting on the patio, after his chemo regimens and thinking about all of the things he'd be doing if he wasn't sick...
He'd tell you that he wouldn't be sitting there. You'd find him most days down at the local basketball gym, coaching 3rd graders. He would be taking special care to encourage all his players, but especially the kids who would otherwise be considered third-string by other coaches. He'd be teaching them the fundamentals of the game-- and at life. Persistence, teamwork, and sharing in the win and loss. He'd be on the edge of the court telling the kids that being a good player happens more often off the court than on it.
If he had it his way, he'd be cruising down the coutnry roads with the windows down, listening to Alan Jackson or George Strait. Wind through his hands and singing along. He'd be on the river with the family, and invite friends who never had the chance to be on a boat-- because it's about sharing the experiences. Sunshine is for everyone to enjoy together, he'd remind you. And he'd then offer for you to come over for a BBQ.
He'd be scheming about the different shennanigans he'd instigate with his granddaughter-- who's due in the next few weeks. He'd be planning family get-togethers, because he feels at his best and most relaxed when all of his sons are home. He would want to be in teh thick of things-- telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows under the stars and spend time working in the yard.
When the leaves begin to fall and the days get colder, he'd be chopping firewood for the elderly so they could keep their homes warm during the winters. He'd tell you that when its cold outside and the holidays are around the corner, he'd want to be where you'll find him most years: in a Santa suit at the homeless shelter. Giving out gifts, and hope to those around him-- singing Christmas carols and giving thanks for the blessings we all have. He'd tell you that he'd rather be on the streets of downtown Portland, making sure those who didn't have a roof over their heads at least had a blanket over them, a cup of hot chocolate in their hands and a listening friend by their side.
He'd tell you that he'd much rather be outside working on his construction site at work. He'd sheeplishly tell you that it gets bitingly cold in the winter and unbearably hot in the summer building high-rises in the winter, but he'd proudly tell you that its honest work. He would admit that times have been tough, and that for "an old guy like me" (he just turned 50) he'd rather trying to work forty hours a week, so he keeps his medical insurance and his benefits for his family. He'd try to hide his worn hands and tell you that having cancer doesn't stop him from working trying to pay his medical bills that keep stacking up.
Steve is a role model for our community and has given so much to help all of us. Please give him the chance to do all of these things by donating to this fund-- which helps alleviate the burdens of his medical bills. Steve has so many things left to do, and so many people he wants to help. Let's give him the gift of time so he has "todays" and many more tomorrows.
Thank you.
Skyler
He'd tell you that he wouldn't be sitting there. You'd find him most days down at the local basketball gym, coaching 3rd graders. He would be taking special care to encourage all his players, but especially the kids who would otherwise be considered third-string by other coaches. He'd be teaching them the fundamentals of the game-- and at life. Persistence, teamwork, and sharing in the win and loss. He'd be on the edge of the court telling the kids that being a good player happens more often off the court than on it.
If he had it his way, he'd be cruising down the coutnry roads with the windows down, listening to Alan Jackson or George Strait. Wind through his hands and singing along. He'd be on the river with the family, and invite friends who never had the chance to be on a boat-- because it's about sharing the experiences. Sunshine is for everyone to enjoy together, he'd remind you. And he'd then offer for you to come over for a BBQ.
He'd be scheming about the different shennanigans he'd instigate with his granddaughter-- who's due in the next few weeks. He'd be planning family get-togethers, because he feels at his best and most relaxed when all of his sons are home. He would want to be in teh thick of things-- telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows under the stars and spend time working in the yard.
When the leaves begin to fall and the days get colder, he'd be chopping firewood for the elderly so they could keep their homes warm during the winters. He'd tell you that when its cold outside and the holidays are around the corner, he'd want to be where you'll find him most years: in a Santa suit at the homeless shelter. Giving out gifts, and hope to those around him-- singing Christmas carols and giving thanks for the blessings we all have. He'd tell you that he'd rather be on the streets of downtown Portland, making sure those who didn't have a roof over their heads at least had a blanket over them, a cup of hot chocolate in their hands and a listening friend by their side.
He'd tell you that he'd much rather be outside working on his construction site at work. He'd sheeplishly tell you that it gets bitingly cold in the winter and unbearably hot in the summer building high-rises in the winter, but he'd proudly tell you that its honest work. He would admit that times have been tough, and that for "an old guy like me" (he just turned 50) he'd rather trying to work forty hours a week, so he keeps his medical insurance and his benefits for his family. He'd try to hide his worn hands and tell you that having cancer doesn't stop him from working trying to pay his medical bills that keep stacking up.
He'd try to smile and cover up the fact that his kids have all been sending half of their paychecks to help with his treatments. He'd shy away from telling you that the bone-marrow transplant he needs is too expensive at this point to consider. He wouldn't tell you that he worries about leaving Mom with bills after he's gone, and he'd hide his opinion about being a burden on everyone because of his treatment costs. He wouldn't tell you about how he can't sleep most nights and if he does, he's usually interrupted because of his sickness and runs to the bathroom several times a night.
He's probably on the patio now. Sitting and thinking of all of the things he'd be doing if he wasn't sick. He'd be thinking of the time he has left to do all of these things. And then look you right in the eye and day "but there's still time today". And head inside.
He's probably on the patio now. Sitting and thinking of all of the things he'd be doing if he wasn't sick. He'd be thinking of the time he has left to do all of these things. And then look you right in the eye and day "but there's still time today". And head inside.
Steve is a role model for our community and has given so much to help all of us. Please give him the chance to do all of these things by donating to this fund-- which helps alleviate the burdens of his medical bills. Steve has so many things left to do, and so many people he wants to help. Let's give him the gift of time so he has "todays" and many more tomorrows.
Thank you.
Skyler
Organizer
Aimee Hamilton
Organizer
