Some days I feel that my life has traveled far from Jason and that alone is enough to render me to tears.  I miss Jason every minute of every day in the littlest ways.  A few weeks ago I was watching a rerun of the popular sitcom House and the hospital was decorated for Christmas and someone was terminally ill.  I sat on the sofa and felt my heart sinking.  My pain was so intense I felt I had a ton of bricks lying on my chest. I started to hyperventilate and couldn’t catch my breath.  This feeling used to come over me frequently, sometimes many times in a single day.  The short breaths usually dissolve into wracking sobs and I cry and yearn for a man who we all loved.

So much has changed since we lost Jason.  We face a new President, we have changed calendar years, some of us have had children, some have lost family members and others have sought new jobs, new homes and new lives.  Sometimes I wonder if Jason suddenly came back if he could find his friends, recognize them.  Grief plays odd mind games.

Although I drag my grief with me every minute, I am starting to feel hope seep back into my bones which for so long have known no happiness, no joy.  I used to laugh at something unexpected then feel guilty for laughing knowing that Jason doesn’t laugh anymore and now, I feel that maybe, although I will never stop loving or missing Jason, that his life was exactly as it should have been.

When Jason and I first got together and a number of times throughout our five year relationship he mentioned that he would die young.  His saying this always terrified me and I’d frequently cover his mouth with my hand because he would talk about how he thought his death might come in a car accident or some other way and I could not bear the thought of losing him.

Later, when he was sick and we were in Indianapolis there was one particular night when Jason was afraid.  He was very sick, with a high fever, almost delusional, and he said to me that he was right; he was destined to die young.  I laughed it off and told him he wasn’t getting rid of me that easily and we laughed and moved on to discussing other things, like the fact that he hated his required diet.  Later that night as I lay down to sleep a dark fear crept inside me, a kernel of terror that never left me; the fear that maybe Jason was right, that somehow he knew his own destiny and was marching toward it with the strength and grace so characteristic of him.

Some days I think Jason’s death is such a horrible shame.  He was so young, so beautiful, so vibrant, so talented, so…..JASON.

Other days I think that Jason’s life was exactly what it should have been.  He packed an entire lifetime of events, love and passion into a mere 31 years and growing old never would have suited him.  Now that I can actually think about these things every now and again without my mind fogging with grief and loss I think that Jason’s life was an amazing journey of love and talent and inspiration and I feel lucky that he shared so much of his life with me.

I love his man as we all do, and I ma consoled by the fact that there is no distance in love, merely an eternal presence, and I cherish this knowledge because I know that no matter how many things change, my love for Jason will live until I draw my last breath.

As the days pass by I feel a growing sense of panic.  Jason has been gone for a week now and I am loathe to leave him behind.  Each new day takes me a little farther away from him and I don’t want to leave this moment, no matter how painful, because somehow I feel I am leaving him.  I recently heard from one of his dear friends, Jeremy, who mentioned that remembering fond memories of Jason is helping him get through this difficult time.  He reminded me of Jason’s fondness and near obsession with nachos and I began to think of Jason hunched over a plate of Robertito’s nachos late at night as he watched a UFC fight while our dog, Mathilda, anxiously waited for just one piece of carne asada to drop off the side of a chip.  Through the tears that flow freely down my cheeks every time I think of Jason I began to smile. 

In the last year it became routine to see Jason through the horror of a life with cancer.  So much of our life was overshadowed by the tremendous burden of pills, doctor appointments and hospital stays.  It became easy to forget that one day not long ago Jason was whole, complete and scarfing down nachos on a near nightly basis.  I remember him calling me every night on the way home from Ju-Jitsu practice and saying, “Babe, it’s me.  I’m going to Robertitos.  Do you want anything?”  I teasingly told him, “You’ll turn into a nacho if you aren’t careful!” We’d laugh.  I used to think that nachos would always be around, along with Jason’s tell tale onion breath as every order of nachos was followed with the request, “Extra onions please”.  These days, now that the fact that Jason won’t be around is slowly sinking in, the memories of Jason’s passions and his onion breath are so dear to me.

In the last week many of you have contacted me by e-mail, phone and through this site.  Your loving responses and support mean the world to me now more than ever.  As the days pass I invite you to post your favorite memory of Jason.  With New Year’s just around the corner I know there will be free flowing champagne and many toasts as we begin a new year.  In addition to your postings of favorite memories I’d love to see you toast Jason.  Let me be the first to raise my glass of hope to Jason’s memory.  To a man who knows now that he is in perfect peace just how much he was loved, how inspirational he was to so many and how very much he will be missed.  Cheers to you, Jason.

You are invited to attend
Services (Open to the public):
9AM
Friday 12/22/06
Sacred Heart Church
2240 N. Cedar one block south of Clinton in Fresno, CA

Jason died last night.

Although his body will decay and his fleshy limbs will turn to dust the legacy of Jason will live in me strong until I too, turn to dust and my name is long forgotten. Jason’s legacy is a legacy of passion. For those of you who knew Jason you know well that he was a passionate man. Think of him with a guitar slung around his shoulders. Think of him listening to Pantera and how much he loved Dimebag Darrell. When Dimebag was slain Jason mourned for weeks. He was physically pained by the loss of this great musician. I remember finding Jason on the floor of the very study from which I now write, wearing a Pantera t-shirt and sobbing in the fetal position that his death was wrong and unjust.

My one priority has been Jason for months now. This will not change until Jason is healed; however, I do think that I can remove the Jason blinders from my eyes to remember all of the other soldiers who are in the trenches of the battle against cancer. I just saw a co-worker who is dealing with her own cancer. She is still in treatment fighting this thing with her own group of support and medicine. I am in awe of her, and Jason. I see these people who I know and love having to deal with cancer every day, being forced to reconcile themselves to their own humanity on a daily basis, and I am humbled by their concern for others, their strength and their will to fight and to live.

For my co-worker, she fights with daily treks to treatment then an occasional visit to our office to visit and an update on the goings-on in our industry. For Jason he fights by riding his bicycle through the Tower, to Irene’s for breakfast, to Sound Stage to get a pedal for his guitar fixed and by (of all things!) going to New Era Martial Arts for ju-jitsu practice the day he had the staples removed from his head and daily since.

I am amazed by Jason, by my coworker, and I know that we all have someone in our life who is dealing with cancer. We can each remove our blinders and take heed of the lessons in strength, courage and faith that these people model for us each and every day.

So, in an internet wide toast, please raise a (cyber) glass with me for each and every person we know who lives a life with cancer. I toast to your bandanas hiding bald scalps, to the tattoo marks made on your bodies before radiation, and to the scars left by PIC lines for these are the battle scars that mark you as a fighter. I toast to your courage to face one of life’s most difficult challenges with strength and dignity and I toast each of you for the example that you set for the rest of us. We look to movies, to world leaders to establish our heroes, but the fact is that true heroes walk among us each day as you fight the good fight. Here’s to you Jason. Here’s to you Laura.

If you know someone with cancer, please take time each month, each week or every day to encourage him or her to keep fighting, to know he or she is loved and to be a friend to this person. I think you will give a little and get a lot in return.

The funny thing about cancer is that is makes you wait. Long hours in the neurosurgery clinic where Jason went today to have his staples removed only to find after waiting for some time that his appointment has been changed to tomorrow. Waiting last week at the cancer center for nearly two hours before even being put in an exam room to see Dr. Hager and waiting endlessly for markers, test results, bad news, the hope of good news. The forced impotence, utter helplessness that cancer brings makes the rest of my body hum with tension so taut you can almost feel me quivering if you get too close. I hate this. I love Jason so much I’d like to pry his body open and rip the cancer out with my bear hands then drop kick it kung-fu style. Alas, here I sit musing about this disease and only imagining ways to defeat it.

Jason on the other hand is doing more acting than thinking. This weekend our house was full of the band’s equipment as Speakers for the Dead turned the living and dining rooms into a practice space and wailed away banging out new tunes. The closest neighbors pleaded them to bring the music to our large front lawn for an impromptu concert but thus far no lawn-concerts are scheduled but I will let you know if ever they do move outside. Last night after practice he made the rounds to a couple of Labor Day BBQs and regularly rides his bike down to Irene’s for breakfast and walks our dog Mathilda. It used to be that Jason’s legs would give out before Mathilda’s little stubby bulldog legs but as his strength returns he finds himself pulling her along as she pants behind. It seems that we need to put Mathilda on a diet and feed Jason everything we can shovel into his mouth. We are on the fast track to getting him back to a weight where he feels good, looks better and can start training at New Era Martial Arts again.

All in all, Jason is doing remarkably well. He looks better than he has in months. It seems that the ghostly pallor of a cancer patient is leaving him to be replaced with a warm glow. His pants are beginning to fit again and I see him standing sideways in the mirror patting his stomach and complaining of a “belly”, ha! I peck him on the cheek, playfully swat his still gaunt bottom and as I leave the room say, “Keep eating!”. On the way out I send up a prayer, “God, please keep the time bomb at bay. Please, please, please…..”

We love you all and are blessed by your continued prayers and love.

Denise

I don’t have good news to report other than the small goodness of the fact that there is no active cancer in the site where the matter in Jason’s brain was removed. The final pathology report confirms that the matter was all necrotic tissue, dead brain cells fried from the radiation and melted to mush. Technically this is good because it means that the radiation worked and Jason is doing remarkably well from the surgery. He did very well during the procedure on Tuesday and other than the usual poor treatment that UMC seems to chronically offer on the nursing and communication levels his experience there has gone well.

Despite a disinterested and over worked nursing staff the physicians there deserve a pat on the back—and a vacation. There are two people who stand out to me, Dr. Adelaja, a young physician with the neurosurgery team, with the compassion and drive to still view her patients as individuals rather than seeing them en masse as a body of work. She has assuaged my concerns on two occasions and gone out of her way to be a fine example of a good physician-to patient and family. Another doctor from the ICU department looks like the young doctor he is—tired from hours and days on call and willing to help, but weary from a caseload too large for his slim shoulders. Despite obvious exhaustion he was willing to leave the ICU, his area of influence, to monitor Jason after he had been moved to a room in the hospital. It is people like these physicians who make the horror of disease a little more manageable.

And now on to the news we are all waiting for…..the dreaded bHCG levels. I will give you the information as I know it and leave you to conclude and interpret the news as you will. First, however, let me tell you a bit about the characteristics of tumor markers. When the bHCG levels rise, they usually rise in large chunks, generally they double plus some. For example, Jason’s last test went from 66 to 233 for a difference of 167. His means that his bHCG level doubled plus some which is the way the rising level generally works. And conversely when the levels drop they tend to drop by half or more. So, a bHCG of 5000 would tend to cut to around 2500 or 2000. These are only trends and what I have personally witnessed in Jason’s progress. Last Monday, the 21st, Jason’s level was 233 and although we only received the results today, two days later, the results from Wednesday are 325 which means in two days the level rose 92 points and the trend seems to hold.

This is not good news. I spoke to Dr. Einhorn myself on Wednesday and he indicated to me that there is little more we can do medically for Jason to try to save him from the cancer that seems to insist on consuming him. Jason will be put on VP16, a pill form of chemo that is good because it can be tolerated for a period of 21 days, longer than intravenous forms of the same drug. However Dr. Einhorn does not seem to think that this will be effective in reducing the cancer in Jason’s body. I, however have seen small miracles already in his treatments and I do not think that Jason would come this far to succumb now.

I was reminded of the following verses the other day and I have been clinging to them as a mantra because I know that Jason is a God fearing man. They are from Psalms 33 as follows: “No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.” I am calling upon the power of this verse and God’s promise to deliver Jason from death. I have no doubt it is possible and I am relying on the word of the Lord to see us through this process.

As of yet, Jason remains unaware of this situation as he is still waiting to be released from UMC which seems to be a gargantuan effort in itself. I think at this point it is best that we remain positive because I know that people who believe they will survive frequently do and I do not want to do anything that will sway Jason from the course of believing he will be healed nor do I wish to add to his troubled mind one more worry. There may come a time for this, but not until we have a chance to meet with Dr. Hager on Tuesday. At this point I don’t know enough to even speculate how this will play out or what avenue we will travel next, but I know that with prayer anything is possible and I believe in miracles.

Help me pester continue to plead Jason’s case to God and send thoughts of healing and hope to Jason every minute of the day. I remain steadfast in the belief and hope that Jason will find full recovery, but we need your help to make it happen.

Fighting the Good Fight,

Denise

First off news of Jason’s immediate condition. He is currently still in the recovery room at UMC for no reason other than they don’t have enough beds in ICU where he needs to be as SOP for cranial surgery. He is doing VERY well. He is talking, laughing and asking for dolmas which I went to Whole Foods to get for him about an hour ago. Dr. Meyers who preformed the surgery said “It could not have gone better” and was very pleased with the results. It seems that what was in Jason’s head was not an active or growing tumor at all but rather necropsy, or dead brain matter caused by the radiation he has received. This dead matter was removed and a pathologist confirmed that none of it was active cancer which is an amazing blessing! All in all this is some of the best news we have received. If Jason had active cancer in his brain we would be in a tight spot because he is not eligible for any further radiation to the brain. We are extremely thankful to God for bringing us this far and we are so blessed by His healing grace.

However, Jason’s bHCG test results from blood taken yesterday came back with yet another rise. Last week they were 66 and today they are 233 which indicates there is still active cancer somewhere in Jason’s body. I have not told Jason about this yet so please don’t mention it to him. I want him to revel in today’s victory before we begin the next battle. The rise in bHCG is not good news and I am not currently sure of our next course of action. I have calls in to his local oncologist, Dr. Hager, as well as the Grand Master himself, Dr. Einhorn in Indianapolis. Tomorrow will be a waiting game as we scramble to see what do do next.

Please pray for a miracle. I know that God can do amazing things and I have seen these things first hand in the last few months. I have the faith to know that Jason will recover, but I am in all honesty beginning to wonder how many more beatings we can endure. What we need is for the bHCG to come DOWN, WAY DOWN and we need a course of action to make this happen post haste!

As always, I will keep you updated as I know more and in the mean time I expect you to continue to fervently pray for Jason and praise God for today’s surgical success.

Denise

I am writing to give you all the information we have found out about Jason’s condition in the past few days. It seems that things are happening fast these days. As I mentioned last week, Jason was admitted to Fresno Community last Thursday for the pain he was feeling in his head and this resulted in a CAT scan and MRI which revealed some new activity in his brain which alarmed me and lead to some concern in the part of the physicians and our family. Initially we were told “The tumor has grown significantly”. By the grace of God this is not actually true. Has the tumor grown? Maybe, but not SIGNIFICANTLY. What has occurred though, is the edema, or swelling associated with the pressure that the tumor has created has increased. Although this is not great news, it is significantly more acceptable than “The tumor has grown significantly”. Nonetheless, whatever it is that is going on in Jason’s head needs to be addressed. This is good news. I have been quietly thinking along the lines of removing the tumor for some time and I think that the time is perfect for this to happen. If Jason’s only known cancerous disease is in his head, and the stem cell transplant really did get everything else as we suspect it did, then why would he want what essentially amounts to a ticking time bomb to be left in his head? It just makes sense to do this surgery.

Jason was released from the hospital on Saturday morning and we had an appointment with Dr. Meyers, a neurosurgeon this morning. Due again to God’s great timing we are able to get Jason in for surgery tomorrow morning at 9:00am. This is great because it allows us to address the medical issue faster, but also keeps Jason for fretting over an upcoming procedure. Dr. Meyers made a good impression on us and we feel confident in his care and look forward to a successful procedure tomorrow morning. We also feel assured this is the right decision because our local oncologist Dr. Kusma (Dr. Hager has been on vacation) spoke with Dr. Einhorn who recommends this course of action and also an associate of Dr. Meyers feels this is a very appropriate decision to help bring Jason one step closer to full recovery.

Tomorrow will be a big day for Jason; a day of hope and fear; a day of peace and terror. A day of dichotomy. Hope to see Jason one step closer to winning this fight–fear for the uncertainty of brain surgery. Peace in knowing this is what needs to be done and the terror of a life of uncertainty with cancer.

As always, we remain filled with an unwavering hope and belief that God will bring us through this, yet another obstacle in our already interesting lives and we anticipate tomorrow with a firm resolve to see this thing through and crush cancer once and for all.

For those of you interested in praying for Jason before his surgery, we would like to invite you meet us at University Medical Center(UMC) at 8:40 tomorrow morning in the waiting area just east of the main elevators (or, if you take the elevator marker “staff only” we will be to the north). Jason is fearful about “brain surgery” which he feels sounds menacing and a bit reminiscent of Frankenstein and a group of people praying for him before his surgery will do wonders to calm his fears and remind him that God is in control of this situation. I know many of you work, but we would greatly appreciate the presence of as many of you that can be there. I have not told Jason about this in the effort to surprise him with a flood of support and love.

If our tone was “sum sine regno”, or “I have no kingdom” last week our current feeling is one of hope: “Regnabo”, “I shall reign!” as God brings the wheel of our destiny back around again and lifts us ever higher.

Regnabo!
Denise