The Final Leg of the Journey
Hello, friends. This is Gwen. I'll be taking over the responsibility of keeping you updated on Dave's cancer journey.
This past week was a turning point. It appears we have entered the last leg of this pilgrimage. As Dave mentioned in his last post, for the past several weeks, he has been struggling with loss of appetite, nausea, weakness, and fatigue. Though the nausea has lessened, he continues to grow weaker. We hoped these were just temporary side effects, but Dave's most recent PET scan tells a different story.
Dave's cancer is advancing. The immunotherapy has not proven effective.
Last Tuesday, we met with our oncologist. He told us we have a decision to make. There is another chemo drug we could try, but he urged us to weigh the cost and benefit carefully. The drug has nasty side effects, which, in Dave's current condition, would be horrible. That's the cost. The benefit of more chemo? Very little. At best, it's only 40–50% effective.
The other option is to stop treatment altogether. He gave us a couple of weeks to think it over.
We talked with our kids, who shared their perspectives and offered support for whatever we decided. I also reached out to a friend who has decades of experience in these kinds of decisions, and asked if she would sit down with us and help us think through the choices before us. She gladly agreed.
It didn't take long in that meeting for us to decide that more chemo was off the table. Instead, we learned that another treatment was available to us—the treatment of hospice.
Hospice
For a lot of people, the word hospice carries the stigma of imminent death. If someone is on hospice, it means they only have days to live. But in our conversation, we discovered that hospice is so much more. Hospice provides a comprehensive set of services focused on comfort when curative treatment is no longer possible or desired. The goal is to help a patient feel safe and loved in their final stage of life—however long that may be. For the late President Jimmy Carter, hospice care lasted two years.
So, we have chosen hospice for this final leg of Dave's cancer journey. The process began last Friday. Next week, we'll start to meet our care team. And from there, we will love and serve and care for Dave for as long as God allows.
How’s your heart?
Some of you may be wondering what's happening with our nonprofit, Dave DeSelm Ministries, in light of all this. As a business entity, DDM will carry on. Though Dave's coaching ministry to pastors has been discontinued, all of our online resources—podcast, blog, devotionals, and more—will remain available indefinitely. I will continue to manage the business side of the ministry.
In the meantime, I'll keep you informed of the latest on Dave's condition here on this blog.
People often ask me how I'm doing in this season. How's your heart? How are your kids doing? How is Dave handling all this?
For me, I have to say—it depends on the day. Some days are harder than others. But for the most part, I feel a peace that can only be from God. I'm trying to allow myself to "feel all the feels," to let sadness play the role in grief God intended it to, and yet not let myself get stuck in the muck of sorrow and fear. I don't know how I'll be a year from now, or even tomorrow, but I know that God's grace is sufficient for me…today.
Our kids are amazing. So wise, so thoughtful, so generous. But they're grieving too. Please pray that these next weeks will be filled with sweet moments with their Dad—memories they will carry with them the rest of their lives.
And how is Dave, you ask? He's remarkable. He has responded to each setback with such calm and inner strength. He reminds me of Paul in 2 Corinthians 4:16–17: "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all." I am so proud of him.
Let me close for now by sharing a prayer that Dave read to me just this morning. It comes from a remarkable collection of prayers on death, grief, and hope called Every Moment Holy, Vol. 2. Tucked in the middle of a prayer titled "A Liturgy for Moments When Dying Feels Unfair," author Douglas McKelvey writes:
My life is yours.
My immortal life is yours.
My mortal life is yours also.
My span of days was always in your hands.
If this is now your plan, though I do not understand it,
still would I trust you.
Still would I follow.
Still would I make this costly confession:
Though this is not the path I would have chosen, even so, Lord, I know that you are good, and I will bow my will to yours, and trust you in it.
Amen.
PRAYER REQUESTS
Here’s how you can pray for us in the coming days:
PRAY for a quick and joyful connection to our hospice team.
PRAY that as his body gradually slows down, Dave’s symptoms will be easily managed. Pray that he will have little to no pain.
PRAY for me as the caregiver, to love and serve with patience. Pray that I will face new challenges and signs of decline with courage and wisdom.
PRAY for our kids and grandkids as they navigate their own grief journeys.