After the mass was found in Dave's lung, he was essentially dealing with two medical issues: Blood clots in his legs, and a cancerous tumour (and later discovered, not the only one) in his lung. He was put on blood thinners (by this point, his legs were so swollen and painful he could hardly get around), and his cancer treatment options were discussed. He was advised that he could undergo chemo and radiation for several weeks, still be able to work close to full time during this period, and this would give him a 20% +/- chance of living for several more years. It was decided to pursue this treatment once his blood clots cleared up and he was able to get around better.
Over the next couple of weeks, his legs weren't getting better, and then started getting worse. He went to the E.R. in Galesburg about a week before he passed, and was admitted to the hospital for more aggressive treatment. He went home a couple days later, but within a few days, his legs were worse than ever. He went back to the Galesburg E.R., and was then life-flighted to Peoria (about 50 miles away).
He was now suffering from blood clots, his lungs were worse, and his kidneys were failing. After tests revealed all of this, he and his sister were advised that the clots could be surgically removed, dialysis could be started on him for the renal failure, but his cancer treatment couldn't start until these were taken care of, and it wasn't known if his kidneys would ever start properly functioning once the blood clot issue was resolved (if it could be). If his kidneys didn't recover, the odds of his survival through cancer treatment or for any length of time afterwards were very slim. The only other option at this point was to put him on morphine, make him comfortable, and let nature take its course. When Dave asked the doctor if he was looking at days, weeks, or what kind of time would be left, the response was, "hours, hopefully through morning". It was about 11:00 pm.
Kathy called the family members who live in the area, and Dave's son, daughter, father, and a few other friends came down to see him. The morphine drip was instituted, and Dave finally got to eat something that day. He spoke with all his family members privately and together, and asked that they not hover around in a death watch over him. The hospital staff converted a nearby conference room into a wating room for them, and the family pastor was there as well. Dave stated he was no longer in pain, for the first time in weeks, and asked that Kathy stay with him a while. Other family members peeked in from time to time through the rest of the night, his pastor spoke with him (Dave told him he was not afraid to die, he sensed it was close by), and early Saturday morning he fell into a deep slumber. At 9:20 that morning, he passed away.
I'm sure I've forgotten a couple things and messed up some of the details, but that's the best I can remember everything Kathy told me. She also expressed how grateful she was that we showed up. Dave had spoken to his family about how great we all are and they all knew how much he loved going to rallies and riding with us. His father also thanked us (how do you respond to somebody thanking you in the midst of their own terrible loss?) and told me that next to his family, Dave loved attending the rallies more than about anything else he could think of.
I have to say that I was a bit overwhelmed when the three of us showed up on our bikes, and one of the funeral directors hustled over and told us that we were going to lead the procession from the funeral parlor to the cemetary (about fifteen miles out in the country). When the procession started, I took point (behind the pace car with flashing lights) to lead Dave on his last ride with some of his GS buddies.
I have to stop for a while. I'll type some more later.
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