Journal entry by Nikki Belshe —
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.
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.
Patients and caregivers love hearing from you; add a comment to show your support.
Help David Stay Connected to Family and Friends
A $25 donation to CaringBridge powers a site like David's for two weeks. Will you make a gift to help ensure that this site stays online for them and for you?
Invite friends and family to visit the site
