Some updates are harder than others … the last one was a joy, unfortunately this one’s tough, but an important one nonetheless, if you have a minute.
Since my last visit to Georgetown on the 8th, when they told me things looked pretty stable and that I had another four months until my next scan, we’ve received some painful news on a couple of different fronts.
On Sunday the 12th we lost our dear brother-in-law, David Miller (Christie’s sister Cindy’s husband). It was sudden, unexpected, and utterly heart-breaking. For those of you who knew and loved Dave, I don’t have to say much to express the magnitude of our loss. For those of you who didn’t, I can tell you he was truly an amazing husband, father, son, brother, friend, and man of faith. These aren’t platitudes or cliches, they are absolute truths. Funny, easy-going, positive, and welcoming, Dave was just one of those people who drew you in. For those of you who knew and loved our good friend Britt Thomas, you know the kind of guy I’m talking about.
For me personally, I’ll just say this: It’s taken me most of my life to realize I don’t have all the answers—that there’s a wealth of wisdom and guidance all around me if I just stop long enough to listen to and observe the many incredible people I’ve been blessed to cross paths with. Dave was just such a person. Over the past five years or so, as our many visits to Atlanta transitioned from stays with Christie’s parents to stays with Dave and Cindy, I found myself drawn to his presence, simply taking in how he lived, occasionally pestering him with questions, and relishing cocktails on the deck or in front of a football game. Dave was not didactic. He wasn’t one to walk around preaching and teaching, at least to me. He was, in my opinion, the best kind of guide—the kind who leads by example, by living his life with joy and faith, and loving his family and friends openly and without limits. It’s no exaggeration to say Dave was comfort-food for the soul, particularly for me, personally, during this difficult year.
The day after finding out about Dave, I got a call from my oncologist at Georgetown. The long and short of it is this: the final radiology report came in, and despite the good news regarding the pseudo-stability of the tumors in my lungs, they found a lesion on my spine. It looks like it’s been there all along, from my very first scan a year ago, but that it’s simply grown now to the point where it couldn’t be missed. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say it’s been a bit of a scramble since that call. More research, phone calls, emails, and appointments. Christie, Tegan, and Mackie headed down to Atlanta for the week for Dave’s service. I spent most of the day Monday at Georgetown and yesterday at the National Cancer Institute in Bethesda. I’ve got an MRI next Monday, and several other tests coming up. The plan is to hopefully radiate the spinal lesion and move on.
I’m not sure how to articulate my thoughts on the past twelve days. Sometimes words simply fail. The question “Why?” has come up in my mind quite often. And, of course, I don’t have an answer to that one. I suppose in the end, we don’t get to pick the fights we find ourselves in, we just have to have faith that we are the right one’s for the job, and God, acting as our cornerman and cut man will see us through, win, lose, or draw.
Logan “Paddleboy” Welsh and I were scheduled to do the VentureQuest Adventure Race on Sunday. We almost didn’t go. The previous week was all just a bit too much, and interestingly enough, my back was hurting! We weren’t actually sure we’d make it to the start line until we were there, in fact. But we did it. Back when I started chemo, Dave sent me a buff to cover my head (he was also the kind of guy that made bald look cool!). I wore that buff in the race. I always hate it when some documentary or news story highlights such a gesture for dramatic effect, like wearing a piece of gear or dedicating something to someone we’ve lost somehow makes it all okay, makes it all make sense. We like our narratives tight and tidy, don’t we? I don’t know, in the end, I suppose I wore the buff as a simple way to celebrate the joy Dave took in life and maybe to feel connected to him. I’m sure he was laughing his ass off watching us struggle. The race was fairly epic in the most pathetic of ways. We cut out huge swaths of the technical bike trails, skipped a bunch of optional checkpoints, and Paddleboy, true to his name, handled about 95% of the paddle strokes (thanks, brother!). We came limping in at five hours and five minutes, 11 out of 25 CPs. 97th place out of 102 teams. Far and away the worst finish of my career, but it was a finish, and that’s a blessing in my books.
Please, prayers up and out for Dave’s wife, Cindy, and his three awesome kids, Carrie, Cameron, and Channy. I love you guys, and I loved your husband and dad. As I said, words fail me … I’ll just ask God to shine His light on you and bring you comfort and peace.
As for my situation, I’ll post again when I get further updates in the next week or two. Until then, peace out …
David Miller 
VentureQuest AR