Donate for David

From Nikki: David died on Thursday, January 11, 2018, after a short but ferocious battle with cancer and primary sclerosing cholangitis.

David's most recent hospitalization was his longest one and lasted 12 days - from December 31st until the day he met Jesus. Jesus, why is there liver failure? What a terrible, horrible, sorrowful atrocity. I know my husband is with You and I know that liver failure and cardiac arrest don't exist in Heaven, but they seem too cruel to exist, even in this broken world. I will never understand why David suffered the way that he did, but I am thankful that it is over.

David was approved for the new chemotherapy drug and began taking it Friday morning. His liver was already so burdened with tumors and scarring from PSC, and the drug was just unable to help in time. He declined so rapidly over the weekend. I will not speak of the gruesome details here, but please, please pray that I can forget what I witnessed. Pray for David's mom Julia, his sisterEster, and his brother Caleb as well. They were with us overnight Sunday and endured the worst with us. Early Monday morning David's body was simply unable to carry on. The physical toll of liver failure caused cardiac arrest. He was without a pulse for several minutes but his wonderful nurse Ariana did compressions until a pulse was regained. Blessings to Ariana who cried with us that morning. She was amazing and accompanied us as David was transported to the ICU a few floors down.

David spent 4 days in the ICU. During this time just about every family member was able to drive in from all over the state and spend time with David. He was unconscious and had suffered brain damage, but groups of his loved ones gathered to sing, pray, and just be. It was a truly beautiful thing to witness everyone congregate and fellowship around him. David brought that out in everyone, even when he was unconscious.

We knew he was fading. Doctors told us that if he didn't stop breathing, he would die of starvation in a week or so since he was unable to be given fluids or IV nutrition due to the liver failure. His body swelled with fluid and leaked out of his pores. Collateral veins formed and were visible on his belly. The days were torturous.

On Thursday a music therapist that neither of us had ever met, Melissa, came to have some alone time with David. Many of his loved ones had gone back to hotels that afternoon to shower and rest. His mom and I entered the room mid-session and Melissa gently told us, "I just want you to know that David hasn't taken a breath in about 2 minutes." His mother and I walked to sit by his side and he promptly began breathing again. Oh, my sweet David, how I love your desire to protect. After about 4 more hymns or so, I decided to step out because I couldn't stand the thought of holding David back from Heaven any longer. His mom also moved to the back of the room. Melissa kept on singing and less than an hour later David finally let go. He suffers no more. I can't make sense of it and I am grieved and relieved at the same time. His pain was unconscionable. Thank you Jesus that there is no pain in Heaven. But how can the suffering here be so heavy? Why did the best man who loved so freely have to endure such terror?

This afternoon I told our children that their daddy had died. Maggie's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She's only 4 but her understanding of life and death is so much deeper than I expected. Peter, age 2, didn't quite grasp the concept, but Maggie turned to him and said, "Pete it's okay, we still have Mommy and it's not time for her to die yet." Oh my heart. My broken heart.

There are many more stories to tell about the amazing hospital staff, the lovely visits with family, the blessings and miracles happening all around us, but I'm too exhausted tonight. A celebration of his life is in the works and we will share details as soon as the venue and date are confirmed. Everyone is welcome and I mean everyone. David knew no strangers and he loved so generously. He belonged to all of us. If you are reading this, please know that you are invited.

Thank you for caring about David and our family. Your support has meant everything to us. Thank you for loving us. We love you, too. <3




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From Nikki: It's not what we had hoped for, but we were finally given a diagnosis. Adenocarcinoma of the colon with metastasis to the liver, or, stage IV colon cancer.

What does this mean? Doctors say 4 to 6 months without treatment, but WITH treatment, maybe months and years and years and years. It depends on how David responds to chemotherapy.

This is a fairly common cancer with standard treatments ... just not so typical for a 30-year old.

Today we were informed that this type of cancer with this type of metastasis is "not curable." The amount of and positions of the tumors in his liver make the metastasis much more complicated. Surgery is not an option at this point in time. David may respond very well and he may even experience remission for months or years.

Treatments are always advancing. Since this is a common cancer, it's well-researched and, not to sound too crass, profitable. We have hope in these facts, and in the fact that David is young and resilient and strong and faithful. We have faith in our God who is bigger than disease and bigger than tumors. And you can bet your ass we will seek second and third and fifteenth opinions.

His central line will be placed tomorrow and chemo will start immediately (hopefully tomorrow, or Monday at the latest).

Please pray with us that David experiences immediate relief from his symptoms of discomfort and pain. That he will be able to enjoy his friends and family, and laugh and play with our kids as if no illness were upon him. Please pray with us that this cancer LEAVES HIS BODY and that he experiences remission FOREVER. In the name of Jesus these cancer cells will shrink and shrink and shrink and never return. Thank you Jesus for the hope we have in You and Your promises.

Please pray that I can claim and believe these prayers that I speak over my husband. Thank you all  ❤️


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Nikki here. David's next to me, sleeping.

This update is for those curious about what the heck is going on and when it all started.

On July 4th David went to the ER complaining of severe stomach pain. His symptoms fit those of a stomach ulcer. They did no tests that day and gave him a "GI cocktail" which is a medicinal drink made with lidocaine. The numbing agent provided David with some relief, so they called it an ulcer and called it a day. He was told to follow up with his regular GI doctor, and he did so.

On July 20th he saw his GI doctor. David has had ulcerative colitis since he was 13 years old, and he last had a colonoscopy in 2015 which came back clean. At this recent visit the doctor noticed that his abdomen was somewhat distended, and scheduled him for a colonoscopy to take place on August 10th.

On Monday, July 31st, David returned to the ER because the stomach pain was worsening and his GI was unable to schedule his scope any sooner. That night the ER ran many tests, including a CT scan which showed multiple tumors on his liver. The ER doctor stated that he had never seen liver tumors so large in someone so young. He was concerned that these tumors were potentially metastatic from another primary cancer source.

That night David was transported a few blocks to the hospital, and he was immediately admitted and given a room. The hospitalist (hospital doc) who was here that night expressed those same concerns about metastatic cancer, and he informed us that David would be here for several days while undergoing tests to determine if this was truly cancer, and if so, how far it reached. Both doctors we'd met at that point spoke very frankly with us about the reality of the situation, but we were choosing to believe that the diagnosis would not be so easy.

Early the next morning, a doctor from David's GI practice visited us in his room. She had reviewed his imaging, and from those tumors in his liver, she spoke the words, "Yes, this is cancer," to us. David's mom and sister were here with us at that point and they were part of this very difficult conversation. We all wept together and awaited further labs and tests.

A few hours later, David had a "tap" in which fluid (ascites) was drained from his abdomen. A large tumor in his liver is keeping the liver from functioning properly, and fluid building up in the abdomen happens as a result. This has been the cause of much of David's discomfort and pain. 1.8 liters of fluid was drained yesterday (that's like, almost a 2-liter coke, yall) and sent off for pathology.

Another hospitalist came by to update us on what to expect. Her name is Dr. David, and she encouraged us to open the shades, walk the halls, and enjoy one another's company. She also mentioned that the fluid would be sent off to determine *IF* David has cancer. Hold up. If? We just wept because the morning lady told us that he DID have cancer.

The nurse told us that different doctors have different approaches, and opinions on when to diagnose and call it cancer, and when to be conservative and wait for labs, and it just varies from doctor to doctor. Which really really really sucks. Right? The nurse encouraged us to get more information from the oncologist who was supposed to visit later in the day.

Dr Potlouri, the oncologist, came by a few hours later. She was a ray of sunshine amidst these dark days, and she encouraged us by stating that she is surprised by cases all the time. She doesn't like to call anything cancer before pathology confirms that it is cancer. She was interested in David's history of ulcerative colitis but still stated that 30 is unusually young to develop colon cancer. Dr Potlouri was also interested in his history of recurrent and undiagnosed osteomyelitis (bone infections). Many of you who are close to us know that David has dealt with years of severe bone pain, several surgeries on both of his clavicles, lab results that have confirmed NOTHING, but all evidence and symptoms seem to point to osteomyelitis. David has seen various specialists over the years, and has been under the care of a rheumatologist for bone and joint pain for several years now. Anyway, let's jump back to yesterday's visit with the oncologist.

Dr Potlouri encouraged us overall, but also stated that she understands why other doctors have quickly called it cancer and that it may very well be colon cancer that has metastasized to the liver. However, David has had no traditional symptoms of colon cancer. No blood in his stool or changes in his bowel habits. His diagnosis of UC means frequent trips to the bathroom, but he's dealt with that since he was a teen.

The doctor explained to us that if this were colon cancer that has metastasized to the liver, that this would be a very serious diagnosis. She named off a few other differentials including lymphoma and sarcoma. She said those sound scary but are actually easier to treat than metastatic cancer and are often curable. If this turned out to be colon cancer, or even another type of cancer, with metastases, it isn't considered "curable" but may be managed, depending on a million variables. So. Many. Variables. Potential for surgery, maybe. Potential for chemo and/or radiation, maybe. It all just depends on how many tumors, their sizes, and their placements.

Forgive me for not caring about correct grammar and punctuation, y'all. I'm flying through this update on my phone.

We went to bed last night feeling encouraged. His colonoscopy was scheduled for 2 pm today (Wednesday) and we were all hoping and believing it would come back clean.

This morning the nurse came in and informed us that his procedure was bumped up to 11:30 am. At 11:48 the doctor called for me to come immediately to a family conference. David's mom, brother, sister, and my mom, joined me for that intensely terrible moment where the doctor informed us that she had found a mass in his colon. She said it was "ugly" and that it looked like cancer. She took a biopsy with results that will unfortunately be back sometime next week. The fluid they drained yesterday should have pathology back today or tomorrow. So far no pathology has confirmed cancer because ... it's all pending ... but all imaging has suggested that we are dealing with the big fat crappy C.

The surgeon said she'd tell David the news in recovery, and that he'd probably remember but he may need us to remind him. So I went upstairs to put on my best game face and meet him when he returned to his room.

He knew.

We've been okay, all things considered. This afternoon we have cycled between crying, sitting in complete silence, sleeping, and joking about it all. what do you do, right?

The oncologist is supposed to visit us again this afternoon. She may call it cancer, or she may wait for labs to come back. We are probably dealing with cancer, but until the pathology says so, we'd like to believe that it's some crazy ass anomaly. We've been married for 9 years and have dealt with LOTS of crazy ass anomalies.

We covet your prayers. Please pray that if this is cancer, that it's manageable. Or pray that it's not cancer at all. We aren't picky really, we just need prayer.

Love you all. So many people have already reached out to us. Thanks to those who have cared for our children, night and day, who have driven many miles to be here, who have fed us and run errands for us and done the hard things and easy things for us. We are so grateful for you guys..