Darren Phillipp, Finally at Peace
Hello,
It is with profound heartache we report that our beautiful friend, brother, son, nephew, cousin, world-changer and confidante, Darren Jay Phillipp, has finally decided he deserves to rest after battling various kidney and cancer ailments for nearly half his life. Darren passed away peacefully, surrounded by friends and family, at Medical Center of the Rockies on Saturday, April 8th, 2017. God bless you, Darren, and may you finally find peace and restored health, my beloved friend.
Funeral ceremony will ensue on Holy Saturday, April 15, 2017, at Lutheran Church of Hope, 2595 N Monroe Ave, Loveland, CO 80538, at 2:00 PM. In lieu of flowers, Darren’s family welcome donations in his name to the National Kidney Foundation (https://www.kidney.org/) or the National Stem Cell Foundation (http://www.nationalstemcellfoundation.org/). On behalf of the family, thank you for your unbelievable kindness and generosity, and unwavering support during the past 8 months. Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed, will never be forgotten, and will always shine on these darkest of days.
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What would you say if I told you this entire list happened to one friend of mine?
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-Kidney failure
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-3 years of dialysis
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-Two kidney transplants (one in 2000, and one in 2009)
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-Hodgkin's lymphoma (in between the transplants)
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-6 months of chemotherapy
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-3 hip surgeries—including one total hip replacement, and two stem-cell injections to replenish the bone
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-Several broken foot bones because of the bone-weakening side effects of the drug that helped his body accept kidneys
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-Numerous hospitalizations to help combat infections in his feet from the neuropathy caused by his kidney failure
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And what if that wasn't all? Would you believe me?
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Let me tell you, in more detail, the story about my friend, Darren. He experienced kidney failure in 1998, which resulted in dialysis for nearly two years the first round. He was given a kidney transplant, donated by his own sister, Darcy. Although successful, the transplant necessitated the use of a drug called prednisone to help his body accept his new kidney. Prednisone accomplished its primary task, but suppressed his immunity so much that he contracted Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2004, for which he withstood six months of chemotherapy. He survived, but it was a very close call. And unfortunately, Darren needs prednisone for the duration of his life.
Eight years after the first kidney transplant, that kidney contracted an infection, which forced him into dialysis for another year, until a second kidney was donated by his fiancee’s brother, Oscar. Also thanks to the prednisone, Darren sustained 3 pressure fractures in his feet, two toe surgeries, and three hip surgeries. Two of these hip surgeries were stem cell injections, and the other was a total hip replacement.
All of this occurred amidst numerous hospitalizations to help combat infections from cuts on his feet that would not heal because of the neuropathy from the kidney failure. In fact, one infection in his foot was caused by a small cut that didn’t heal for two years.
He was only 39 at this point.
Then, on the 4th of July, just days after his 40th birthday, he checked himself into the emergency room because he was experiencing sharp pain in his abdominal region. A CT scan revealed stage 4, terminal colon cancer that has metastasized to his liver. They gave him two to three years to live.
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Darren is my brother Matt’s oldest friend—and an adopted brother to me, really. Gives me hell like one would, anyway. Darren and Matt have a rare bond that developed in kindergarten. I remember intruding on many an occasion of Legos and video games, snowball fights, and rock & roll on a set of 15-inch subwoofers. Oh, and bottomless fireworks (until Dad obliviously gave the rest to the neighborhood boy down the street—a deed that still evokes steam from Matt's ears when it comes up at family dinners).
They painted aqua racing stripes down our old black, home-airbrushed Suburban, and on Darren's old Nissan pickup. They've experienced crushes on neighborhood girls, mutual loves of skiing, Transformers, rockets and G.I. Joes, and near misses with lightning bolts in the rolling grassy fields next to Darren’s house in Berthoud, Colorado. The Wonder Years is a pretty accurate depiction of the coming-of-age tale of these two, although I’ll leave it to them to explain which of them played the roles of Kevin Arnold and Paul Pfeiffer (Or was it Winnie Cooper?).
As a younger sibling with almost 6 years between us, you can imagine how starry my eyes were when I got to spend time with them. It was a highlight of my childhood, in fact, because it wasn’t that often that other girls my age were included with their big bros and their friends. Darren met all four of my chickens named Heather, saw my first zit, cheered at my high school graduation, and attended my wedding.
Whenever Matt wasn’t around, we knew we could find him at Darren’s house. Whenever Van Halen or Pearl Jam was coming to town, we knew Matt would be there, selling hotdogs at Folsom Field—with Darren. Whenever something was aflame in the driveway or knee scabs oozed from a recent bike tumble, or sound systems were so “bassy,” we could put a water glass on the ground—Jurassic Park-style—to sense when they were close, it usually involved Darren. And when Matt needed a partner in his senior pics with his skis, you can bet he turned to his saxophone-draped buddy, Darren.
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"Everybody Needs a Darren for a Pillow"
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As years went by, and we all grew up and some went to college, and found loves of our own, we remained tethered by one major commonality, which was Darren. Matt started a running joke among mutual friends to change any song lyrics to incorporate Darren’s name. It’s all out of love, of course, and Darren knows it. Matt’s favorite is, Stairway to Darren. Mine is George Michael’s, Father Figure--“I will be your father, Darren, put your tiny hand in mine…” And then there's U2’s, Lemon--“She. Wore. Darrennnnn, see-through in the sun-light...” which originated on the beaches of South Padre Island
...and the list goes on and on.
My husband, Justin (well, boyfriend at the time), lived with Darren after college graduation, when I struggled as a post-grad, trying to find my way in the world, and Justin searched for a place to live when all our friends scattered from Fort Collins. Darren opened the door to him--as he always did--to any of us in need of a place to crash on the weekends when we wanted to visit our alma mater. And our friendship only deepened from there. We were there to witness Darren go through some of the worst times of his life, when his mom stayed up all night by his side, as he battled nausea from various medleys of medication. We witnessed the physical scars that dialysis left on his arms, feet, and hips, and now the wound near his heart from the chemo port on his chest. He has so much scar tissue from injections and dialysis that it has pushed a major artery to the surface of his arm, and he’ll willingly let you touch it. It feels like a warm, low-voltage electric fence, pulsing rhythmically and dependably, all the time.
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If Darren can be described as one thing, it is real. Darren keeps it really, really real. There is no guessing what’s on Darren’s mind. He will tell when you’re being an idiot whether you want to hear it or not, but he’ll quickly follow with a magical giggle that somehow makes it alright. Like when we picked a ridiculous Ingrid Michaelson song as our first dance at our wedding (yeah, I agree--we should have gone with timeless classic, for sure). Or, there was the time I was at a (then) all-time low, desperate to find a job, and he told me flat out that he wouldn’t hire me at his work, because he didn’t want me to waste my degree—even though I was an "English major, and why the hell did you pick that degree, anyway?” He is also one of my favorite debaters, because he is not afraid to dive in to any subject and tell you exactly how he feels about every politician, and every taboo subject, with no filter. At. All. He is very smart, factually accurate, will give you a chance to talk, and then he’ll cordially—yet realistically tell you if he agrees or if you need to do more research to back your claims. Most admirably, Darren's humility makes way for him to admit when he is wrong. Which is not that often, truthfully (but don’t tell him I said that).
This period of our lives--when my husband was Darren's roommate-- was when the lovely Lelani made her debut, as well. She worked with Darren—and changed his life forever in the process. Darren had met his match—a sweetheart. A fierce, yet respectful debater. Funny. Thoughtful. Eloquent. Inquisitive, and receptive. A lover of board games and conversation. Beautiful. Perfect for Darren. And she had two intelligent and beautiful girls of her own—both of whom Darren welcomed openly into his heart and home. Little did we know just how steadfast Lelani's love would become for Darren. Her mutual love of dogs--particularly Lazlo--sealed the deal for Darren.
At last, someone really amazing had found someone really amazing.
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Here’s where you come in:
There is no doubt that we have never known a friend, nor will we ever again know a friend who has endured so much. We hope this gives an authentic look inside one of this world’s greatest people, one of the most loyal and honest friends, deepest intellectuals, and unparalleled Star Wars obsessors.
Most of all, after spending nearly half his life battling health problems, Darren is one of the most deserving of some reprieve.
Please give to Darren’s cause, not only to defray medical costs, but to offer tangible hope that can help further his treatment, and hopefully prolong our decades-long friendship. And if there is any money leftover, maybe Darren and Lelani and their two girls can one day enjoy their wedding, because as the last wedding of our friends, it’s certain to be a wedding to “Rock the Darrens*.”
*Casbahs. We hope we have given you a new purpose, today. Thank you so much for your time, and please, please, share Darren’s story—far and wide.