It is with a very heavy heart that I write this blog post today.
John is in ICU at the hospital right now. He is on a trachea attached to a ventilator, and has been for 27 days. It is so sad for us to see him. On Friday, the machines will come off for good and John will find peace.
On December 12, 2011, John had hernia surgery. The drug he was taking as part of a clinical trial from Duke, Avastin, had taken it's toll on John. This drug is very hard on your upper GI, and as a result, a hernia surfaced. The surgery went well, but John aspirated in the hospital the following Thursday morning. He was taken to ICU and has been there ever since. He has fought every infection one can contract in this setting. Since his body was so compromised by the cancer treatment, there is nothing left to do.
Both John and Karen have fought this battle head on together. As I sit by helplessly and watch, I see it as a testament to marriage, in sickness and in health till death due us part. I am honored to be part of this family.
A River Runs Through Lindenlure
11 years ago
7 comments:
I am so sorry to hear this. We continue to keep the family in our prayers.
Beautifully said Toots. See you Thursday. We will always be one, all five of us.
John is a very special person. For those of us blessed to have had him in our lives it is so hard to put into words. John is about to finish his final run here, but will always be dear in the hearts of all that he has met along the way. He has lived life to it's fullest, keeping his priorities straight along the way. John is a peaceful man that loves family, church, and nature above all else. I have been so very fortunate to have a second father in John. His support, advice, and love will be held dear in my heart. I love you John, and my life as well as many others will have a large void in it from here on. But as John would want, we will have many warm, fond memories to share and carry in our hearts.
Justin, please call me. 610-291-1784 on my cell, 610-449-7366 at home.
Forgot, I am flying into Kansas City Thursday. I will be there about 8 PM. Mike is picking me up.
You are all in our fervent prayers as you face this, together. We love you, dear friends.
For a person, who never seems to be at a loss for words, I've found myself at complete and utter loss. . . There is no earthshattering prose coming, no profound statements; only heartbreak, loss, and a sense that there is something so tragic in the fact that such a beautiful bright and gentle person, would be taken from us so young, and with such a horrid disease. John has been a second father, friend, egg toss partner, "hangin' buddy", and a roll model to me since I was very young, and the thought of losing such a wonderful father is more than I can bear, and more than I can articulate. As Justin so eloquently put it, we are better off for having known and been blessed with him in our lives. Time will heal the pain, and take the edge off the sting I feel, but as Justin again said (my brother always has a way with words, even in the darkest of times), there will always be a void- an empty space. . a chair in the corner that John should be. . . Every day, I'll be left with the times I should've called, the days we should've stopped by, and the trips to the coffee house for a mocha, that we will never have again. . . John, I love you, and always will more than words can express. . . I'll miss our conversations on the phone, and how you could always keep up with my sense of humor. . and, of course, I'll miss saying "wad-up, word?" I love you, J-dawg. . . Always your, Lil' A
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