Danny's end of life housing
Donation protected
My dad is dying.
I hate writing that, because it is true and it is harsh.
My father, at 65, was putting more miles on his running shoes than any of his kids. Until July, he was teaching, loving, living life, moving back to Texas to be close to his children. Two days after he arrived back in Austin, he was in the hospital. Four days after that, his surgeon told us that not only was this tumor malignant, but no matter how much of it was removed, it would certainly kill him. Glioblastoma is like that. It always comes back.
Life since that day has been an incredible challenge. Before the surgery, my dad and I planned on him recovering in my studio apartment for a few days, before bouncing back to teaching. We learned quickly that brain cancer does not work that way. There is no bounce back.
Thanks to the incredible generosity of his friends, my dad had a place to live and rest during chemo and radiation. However, a round of seizures a couple of weeks ago once again laid him low. This disease progresses incredibly quickly, and things got worse.
Imagine that every time you wake up, you're in an unfamiliar room surrounded by unfamiliar people with no idea why there's an IV in your arm and a heart rate monitor beeping. That's my dad's reality today: the same brilliant, kind, fit man is trapped in a loop of disappearing short-term memory. He confronts his imminent death every single day like it was the first time.
With no savings and only Social Security and Medicare to rely on, my dad's options are limited. Today we're moving him into a nursing home where he will be just another bed, just another patient. Make no mistake: a nursing home is not the right place for my dad to spend the rest of his life. He deserves to be comfortable, to be cared for by someone who can remind him, gently, what his disabilities are. He deserves to go in peace.
The median life expectancy for glioblastoma sufferers is 14 months. A suitable care home will cost ~$3,000 a month. With my dad's small SSA income, and the $15,000 we aim to raise here, we can afford to house my dad comfortably for 10 months or so. The morbid truth is this: that will be enough.
This campaign will not save a life. This campaign will allow a life to end with dignity and peace.
Please donate anything you can.
I hate writing that, because it is true and it is harsh.
My father, at 65, was putting more miles on his running shoes than any of his kids. Until July, he was teaching, loving, living life, moving back to Texas to be close to his children. Two days after he arrived back in Austin, he was in the hospital. Four days after that, his surgeon told us that not only was this tumor malignant, but no matter how much of it was removed, it would certainly kill him. Glioblastoma is like that. It always comes back.
Life since that day has been an incredible challenge. Before the surgery, my dad and I planned on him recovering in my studio apartment for a few days, before bouncing back to teaching. We learned quickly that brain cancer does not work that way. There is no bounce back.
Thanks to the incredible generosity of his friends, my dad had a place to live and rest during chemo and radiation. However, a round of seizures a couple of weeks ago once again laid him low. This disease progresses incredibly quickly, and things got worse.
Imagine that every time you wake up, you're in an unfamiliar room surrounded by unfamiliar people with no idea why there's an IV in your arm and a heart rate monitor beeping. That's my dad's reality today: the same brilliant, kind, fit man is trapped in a loop of disappearing short-term memory. He confronts his imminent death every single day like it was the first time.
With no savings and only Social Security and Medicare to rely on, my dad's options are limited. Today we're moving him into a nursing home where he will be just another bed, just another patient. Make no mistake: a nursing home is not the right place for my dad to spend the rest of his life. He deserves to be comfortable, to be cared for by someone who can remind him, gently, what his disabilities are. He deserves to go in peace.
The median life expectancy for glioblastoma sufferers is 14 months. A suitable care home will cost ~$3,000 a month. With my dad's small SSA income, and the $15,000 we aim to raise here, we can afford to house my dad comfortably for 10 months or so. The morbid truth is this: that will be enough.
This campaign will not save a life. This campaign will allow a life to end with dignity and peace.
Please donate anything you can.
Organizer and beneficiary
Daniel Williamson
Organizer
Austin, TX
Sarah Williamson
Beneficiary
