Rally for David Davis' Medical Needs

Hello everyone.

My name is William Davis and I am the proud son of David Davis, or as most of you close to him (and there’s a lot of you) call him, Super Dave.

On Friday, February 21st around 3pm, my father suffered a massive, acute heart attack as he walked into the first floor of the Timberline Lodge at Bolton Valley in Bolton, Vermont. Simply put, his heart completely failed.

Unfortunately at the time this occurred, David was already down on the first floor and I was still removing my boots on the 2nd floor with my wife, Marissa and friend, Nick. After we were alerted of the situation unfolding, I ran downstairs. As I watched the life leave his body, 3 doctors that were eating in the lodge, as well as Bolton Valley Ski Patrol had already jumped into action. Providing CPR for almost 20 minutes, while intermittently utilizing a defibrillator to keep a pulse while the ambulance arrived. If it wasn’t for their immediate, calculated efforts, this is not the message I would be writing right now. They are the unseen hero’s that I owe a lifetime of gratitude, no matter the outcome of what lies ahead.

Since we’ve arrived at the hospital Friday night, a lot has happened. I will do my best to summarize updates thus far, but as you can imagine we are utterly overwhelmed and completely crushed at this point in time.

Friday: David arrived at UVM University Medical Center and immediately underwent emergency surgery to open up the main clogged artery. This surgery was a success. He was then transferred to the MICU (medical ICU) where he was sedated and placed on life support. It was touch and go all night.

Saturday: After leaving the hospital at 10pm Friday (we cannot sleep in the MICU) I arrived back at the hospital for 4am to learn that he made it through the night (I would’ve been called otherwise) but that they were also prepping to perform 2 procedures. One a temporary pacemaker and two, a pulmonary catheter for his neck to better monitor cardiovascular levels and the medicine success rate. Both of these procedures were successful and quick. My mother, Renee, also arrived around 10:30am to be briefed. Saturday into Sunday was a “no news, good news” type of situation, and there was no news. Dave was “stable” but still heavily sedated and on life support.

Sunday: After another 4am arrival at the hospital, doctors let us know that they were going to remove him from the sedatives to prep for a brief 30-45 minute neurological exam at some point over the next 24 hours. There was no window for this, but as we understood, it was an initial test to see if he could wake up on his own or purposefully respond to any commands. If it was me, I would’ve told him to fart, because that’s one of his favorite things to do. (kidding, but not kidding, of course)

Apologies for the humor, but it’s needed right now.

Anyways with that said, the doctors did say he’s using the bathroom which is a good sign because of all the meditation that’s keeping him alive.

Nonetheless, this was an incredibly tough night because he had not been off the sedatives yet and we weren’t sure what was going to be the result of that step.

Monday: We arrived at the hospital early to find out that Dave did not wake up on his own. A very good sign would’ve been an immediate or slightly delayed regaining of consciousness. This did not happen. Monday into Tuesday was another heavily sedated, life supported, “no news is good news” night.

Tuesday/Today: We met with our case manager and doctors. The reality moving forward is very cut and dry now as it’s been 72+ hours since he came into the hospital with no progress, other than the fact that he’s still “alive”

They need to do an MRI on his brain. That will determine whether he’s going to make it or not, but we’re hoping by tomorrow morning, we will know more. ore.

As for updates, that’s all I have right now.

Lastly, I wanted to quickly address why we started a GoFundMe.

Some of you may know my Dad really well, some of you may not. He’s a strong, full-blooded, lovingly stubborn Irishman. However, Dave was sensitive when he needed to be. He was compassionate and empathetic when he needed to be and most importantly, he IS the most selfless person I ever met in my life.

He is my best friend and I love him beyond words.

Unfortunately, once my father turned 65, he did not opt-in for full health insurance coverage. What he has for Medicare right now, won’t even cover the life saving medicine he’s on, let alone anything else. We are trying our best not to focus on the financial outcome of the situation because all we care about is that Dave gets better and survives.

Outside of that, as we approach the weekend, we’re beginning to understand that his current, indefinite diagnosis could mean weeks, or a month. Maybe more. There is no timeline. As you can imagine, with each passing day, we’re unsure how long we can continue to afford staying up here. We do not want to have to leave all together until indefinite, turns definite. Rhode Island and Connecticut aren’t just down the road from here.

The only thing I care about is being here for him, and I will sleep outside before I leave him here by himself.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this and we appreciate any help, big or small, during this crisis.

Much love,

Will, and the entire Davis family.