A Message From Dan

Hello everyone, this is Dan.

Earlier this afternoon Jess had a seizure. It was different then her normal seizures as it came on with no aura or preceding affects. She attempted to call me but was unable to use the phone until things had passed and luckily I was not too far away and got home quick to find her laying, unable to move, in the yard. She has been going non stop for the last few weeks and I feel this has put a strain on her. She always wants to answer every text, email, comment, and no human could possibly withstand that pressure. She is slowly getting better as we speak from napping, but needs to rest as much as possible. So, with that said, I am instituting a technological blackout. Most of you will remember me doing this in the past, but in case there is someone newer or does not remember, Jess will be refraining from blogging, texting, calling, emailing until she is feeling better. Or until she sneaks behind my back to do it anyway:). Jess wanted to make sure I wrote something so everyone would understand why she is not returning your messages. We have a good friend in town tomorrow, all the way from Texas, to cheer on the Seahawks vs Cowboys preseason game, and knowing her, I can't stop her from attending if I tried - however, it's imperative that she get as much rest between now and then. She's heartbroken that her running steak of no seizures has to start over, and scared that this seizure came with no aura, no forewarning. She thanks you for your patience, and is embarrassed to have to explain this situation. Thank you for your cooperation, and if you want to send her well wishes, feel free to do so on the blog. Also, even though you want to reach out in this moment with an email, text, or call, please hold off. The growing list of emails/texts/etc. will just stress her more. A comment on the blog is fine, but but other forms of contact put more of a strain of responsibility at this time. Thank you for understanding. I just want to protect her, Dan

After I carried her back into the house.

Katie "Crush" Campbell 1983-2016

This is a hard post to write.

There is the concept of death, and actual death, and there is a vast difference between the two.

Saturday evening, I was munching on corn chips, sipping on a margarita, listening to old stories at Dan's 20th high school reunion, when a friend shared that Crush had died. My pulse raced, everything froze, I went deaf, time stopped. In a split second I recorded that I was living, but more importantly, I alive, a luxury she no longer enjoyed. Shocked, I quietly excused myself, weaving through the hall to the bathroom for privacy. I sobbed unabashedly, not caring about the strange women who pretended not to see me. I cried for Crush because she had so much more life to live. I cried for her husband, and friends, and family. I cried for those who love her. 

If you're new to the blog, Katie "Crush" Campbell is a buddy that I met at a young adult cancer camp, First Descents. After rock climbing in Moab, UT, we kept in contact for the past two years, leaning on each other, laughing, supporting. We started a YouTube series this past year, Cancer Convos with Crush & Coconuts. It was short lived, and fun when we started, but it was emotionally exhausting, and eventually it fizzled out. We wanted to inspire and share the nuances of life as a young adult cancer patient - a world most don't see. But, with our rigorous health demands, we simply couldn't maintain. And, even though the series ended, we remained friends, with the final text message arriving just Friday night, several hours before her death. 

I really don't have anything eloquent to say, nothing to make this heartbreak any easier. I'm numb now. Confused. I think I'll always be at a loss about death; I can't even try to understand the concept. 

I recognize the world that I live in. I know that I am in a subgroup of the population that is at a much higher risk of death. That death is expected, but, somehow, that doesn't make it any easier.

I mourn for my friend Crush. I mourn for her soulmate Andrew, who graciously sent a personal email to me to make sure I was aware. I can't imagine his grief, his pain. 

Crush had a sense of urgency the whole time I knew her, but I never got the feeling that it stemmed from diagnosis, but rather her diagnosis only intensified it. She made things happen. She had an expanded world view, she had seen suffering and cared about the human condition. I have no doubt that she would have continued to change the world, given the chance. 

Crush was able to sneak off a book toward the end, which she felt was her legacy. It's available on Amazon. I believe that her contributions, which are many, will connect her spirit to souls all over the world. She was/is one of the most determined, disciplined, curious, joyful, thought provoking people I've ever known.