Dearest friends,

This may be the hardest thing I’ll ever write, and I know no way to soften it. Dan passed away Friday evening. He was very quiet and comfortable, and was surrounded by family and friends.

Dan passed away with the same level of intention with which he had lived his life. He didn’t want this phase of his illness to last long, and so he made sure it didn’t. Once his final decline began, it proceeded swiftly. He bore it all with strength and grace to the end. As his ability to care for himself faded away, he allowed us to care for him, helped us as much as he could, and in his own way he made sure that we knew he appreciated our help. Although he slept most of the time from Tuesday onward, he was still present. He lit up every time Dillon entered the room, and graced us with the occasional smile, wink, wave, or well-timed eyebrow raise. He couldn’t speak much toward the end, and even swallowing was sometimes a significant effort, but he let us know every chance he could that he was still there with us.  He enjoyed visiting with people, and liked to sit upright and listen to the conversations around him.

He was very excited that his good friend Steve made the drive down from Willits to be with him. The last time they had seen each other was when Dan went to Willits for Thanksgiving with Dillon, Mary (Ma), Jimmy, and Dillon’s friend Alexa. While he was in Willits for Thanksgiving, Dan asked Robin if she would come down and be with him at the end, and he was grateful to have her there. It was a huge comfort to all of us that Dan was in no pain for the last week. Although moving or being moved was uncomfortable for him near the end, the discomfort didn’t last long. He was quickly soothed with loving, reassuring words, gentle hand holding, and head stroking. He slept long and well, ate his favorite ice cream, and listened patiently as we talked his ear off.

We are immensely comforted by the love coming to us from all directions. And rest assured that Dan felt the same love from you that we are feeling now. I know he drew the same comfort from it. When I was looking for something on his computer the other day, I found a document titled “my thoughts.” When I opened it up, I found this quote from author Jana Richman: “But fear of death has never been my problem. To me, life, not death, holds the promise of misery. When life is lived as a problem to be solved, death offers the ultimate resolution, the release of all fears, and a moment of pure peace.” I, and anyone who knew him, knew that Dan did not see life as a source of misery or a problem to be solved. I remember the day we found this quote, and what it meant to him was simply this: that he had no fear of death, and that with it, he would be released from the various physical pains of the last two years.

This process, from the very first signs of Dan’s symptoms two months before his diagnosis, has been an exercise in raw humanity. And this exercise, this journey, continues. We are surrounded by friends, and blessed by the experience of knowing and loving Dan, and are grateful for the opportunity to carry his spirit forward. He lives on, within and through us.

Dan did not want a formal memorial service or any sort of ceremony. So to honor and celebrate this remarkable man, we are throwing a party in the Donovan style at the home of our lovely friends Deb and Dave this Saturday, December 22, starting at 2 p.m. Their address is 1820 Derby Street in Berkeley, CA, 94703. We will likely go into the evening, and if the weather is nice enough, I’m sure there will be a fire in the backyard. We are also planning to have a celebration on Dan’s birthday, May 1.

This Saturday we will be sharing photos and memories to compile in an album. Please bring any photos you’d like to share. Also, we will provide materials for and invite people to compose notes, letters, poems, telegrams, drawings, or whatever they’d like, to Dan. We’ll take these missives to next year’s Burning Man and place them at the Temple, a sanctuary long at the center of Dan’s spirituality, and one of his favorite places on Earth.

Dan was filled with love and gratitude for his friends, who brought him so much joy. He would have been happy to hear our house filled with as much loving conversation and laughter as it has been in the last couple of days. Even in your sadness, remember that the best way to honor Dan is to laugh, enjoy life, bring that joy to others, and above all, be yourself.

For those of you who sent checks to help cover Dan’s health insurance deductible, we will not be cashing them. For those of you who sent money through PayPal, with your kind permission we will gratefully use that money to help pay for Dan’s cremation. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the love, well-wishes, good vibes, and support in all its myriad forms.

Bon voyage, Captain. I can’t wait to hear about all your adventures when I see you again.

Love and gratitude,

Kaki (with my trusty literary partner in scribe, Calum)

My dear friends,

As many of you know, Dan had a scan in late November to see how his treatment was going. The results showed that the chemo has stopped working, and the cancer continues to grow and spread. While the scan showed some new spots in his bones, the main concern is the significant amount of cancer in his liver. His doctors were surprised that he hasn’t gone into liver failure already, given the extent of the damage. As it stands, that could happen at any time. The good news in all this is that liver failure is a relatively peaceful way to go.

Dan is in good spirits, although he is sleeping more and eating less.  He still gets out of the house when he can, but usually only for very short periods. He tires out easily, and recovery is slow. His pain has been increasing, and we’ve been ramping up his medication in response, which often leaves him drowsy. He has been put on hospice service, and they are giving us incredible care. Today, in fact, they delivered and installed a hospital bed in the living room. Dan’s sleeping in it now – his favorite couch served him well through this whole ordeal, but it’s time to upgrade. This new bed’s a freakin’ Cadillac: adjustable in every direction, cushioned air suspension, chrome detailing, you name it. Only the best for our Captain.

So I guess this is a long way of saying that we’ve entered a new phase in this fight. Dan is seeing people, when he’s awake enough, but there’s no telling from day to day, or even hour to hour, when that will be. He’s not been up for checking his phone or email much lately either, but I read his text messages and pass them on to him. If you want to visit, please call or text first, and please wait for the go-ahead before coming by. There’s no guarantee when or if he’ll be up for it, but you’re welcome to ask. And per Dan’s wishes, please keep all information about his health off of Facebook.

I know Dan appreciates the love and support you all have shown him during this journey, and he would thank each and every one of you if he could. So I’d like to thank you on his behalf. And on mine – I couldn’t do this without you. All the love we’ve received, and continue to receive, is astounding. It is the rock that we’ve stood on for all these many months. Thank you.

Godspeed,

Kaki

I have learned that cancer has many setbacks and negative aspects associated with it. The list is quite long and at times seems to have no end. But it also possesses a couple of, shall we say,”get out of jail free cards”, otherwise known as “pulling the cancer card.” So I’m just letting everyone know thats what I’m doing right now. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve updated this blog, but get off my back, i have effing cancer.

It’s now October 26th, in the year of someone’s lord. All kidding aside, since my last update my weight had slipped back down to 117 pounds as a consequence of the chemo that I was on becoming ineffective. The chemo seemed to be working until the second week of August, when a scan showed that my tumors were no longer shrinking. My liver tumor’s size was stable at best, and the scans showed new tumors in my lungs.

Despite this, I still had enough energy to make the trip out to Burning Man. Up until Burning Man, I had only been out of the house on two occasions for a total of three nights. With our early entry passes, we spent 10 days out there in the desert. It was the most normal I had felt in a long, long, time. The trip out there was made even more special by the fact that it was Dillon’s first time going, which invigorated me all the more. He fit right in, and I think that considering everything that’s gone on the last couple of years, it was a great break for us from the illness, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve given away snow cones for many years at Burning Man. It was great to be able to repeat this tradition, and we spent many wonderful afternoons serving cones to thirsty Burners. We ended  up giving away over 1,000. This total can be verified by our paper cup count in case anyone has their doubts.

On the medical front, I had to have my chemo port removed from my clavicle after returning from the playa because it was interfering with my blood flow and causing clots.

My energy level had felt completely and totally normal while I was out there on the playa. This prompted us to plan a trip to Boston with Dillon, Kaki, and my mother three weeks after I got back from Burning Man, which set a series of problems into motion. One of which was that I had already been three weeks without chemo after Burning Man, but had not yet received authorization from the insurance company for the new chemo regimen. This was  denied, to our surprise, since the chemo was approved for breast cancer, not pancreatic cancer. After several failed attempts to get them to approve it, and facing the prospect of over a month with no chemo at all,I convinced my oncologist to give me my old chemo formula the morning of my trip to Boston. And, true to Murphy’s Law, the new chemo was approved an hour before my flight took off.

The old chemo proved ineffective in combatting my pain, so my trip to Boston was both wonderful and extremely painful. We brought a wheelchair, forgetting that the sidewalks and cobblestoned streets of Boston are some of the bumpiest and pot-holiest in the country. Highlights of the trip were obviously getting to see a lot of old friends I haven’t seen in a long time. I especially want to thank one of my oldest and dearest friends, Cindy Walsh, who generously put us up at the W Hotel downtown for 5 nights.

This was a preamble to the two nights we spent at the family beach house of another, more recent friend, Christine Troy, in Wellfleet on Cape Cod. The house was beautiful, and it was a dream come true for my mother – Cape Cod is one of her favorite places in the world. I had to practicaly drag her back to the city. In Provincetown, at the far end of the Cape, we were joined by one of my closest and oldest friends, Bobby Mac. After Bobby left, Kaki, Dillon, my mother and I had one of our most special moments watching the sun set as we sat on the beach there. I dropped my mother off in Boston to meet her husband Al so they could join the moving truck on its way to Florida, their new home  (It should be noted that my mother is already preparing to experience her first hurricane). It was nice to see Al, since I hadn’t seen him in four years. My mother usually comes out to visit me on her own, as Al is afraid to fly. Hi, Al! The trip also included many little visits with my sister, for which I couldn’t be more grateful.

Back in Boston (Somerville to be precise) one of the highlights of the trip was getting to wander through the house I grew up in. The people my mother sold it to still own it. And allowed me and Kaki and Dillon to tour the whole place. They could not have been a better fit for the house, they were friendly, warm, and very down to earth. I also was comforted by the fact that his superstitious nature had prevented him from painting over the children’s drawings he had found on the walls in the basement. They were works of art by my sister – witches with pumpkin heads and similar themes. Thanks also to the Bills for letting us stay with them in Maine, and my oldest high school friend Anne and Jeff (and their menagerie of pets) for their hospitality.

The trip was successful on many levels, but I did come home exhausted from the constant pain, and have yet to recover. To be honest, I’m not sure if the lack of recovery has to do with exhaustion from the trip, or if I’m looking at the new normal. I have had two treatments with the new chemo since returning, however, and it does seem to be having some positive effects. My appetite is better and I’ve gained back some weight. I now weigh 123 pounds. We’ll know more about where things after my next scan in a few weeks time.

Big love

Dan

Hello, this has been a long time coming. A lot of folks think I am traveling, well the truth is I have knocked out by fatigue.
My last cat scan did not go so well and it was discovered that my cancer is back and has spread to my liver. This makes me very, very weak, to the degree that I have just been on the couch for months.
I have started chemo hoping to slow it down. Won’t know for several weeks if that will work. I would like to say thank you to everyone who has sent me good thoughts and warm wishes. It is my wish that I could thank you all individually but I have not had the energy. My fatigue is so consuming that I don’t have the strength to really even speak on the phone very often. Fortunately the chemo has allowed my eating to improve some what but catching up after falling back to 120 pounds has proven a much more daunting task than I was hoping.

Anyway I am having random good days, which I am deeply thankful for as am I for all the offers of help love and support.

I wish you all health and laughter.

Lastly there are not enough words of thanks in this world for me to express for my dear sweet and best friend Amanda, aka Kaki.

DD

hellos and hellos

I would like to apologize to anyone who checks here to see how I am doing .    I have been trying to embrace what seems normal or should I say ordinary and not so heightened and intense which I feel keeps me away from reflecting on my condition , so as to get it out of the foreground of my thoughts.

We also realized this past weekend was exactly a year since first started having symptoms , time sure does fly when your having fun .

That said I am doing quite well. I ended chemo and had my first test cat scan which also went well . Kaki and I spent the last week of chemo in Hawaii at  Mike and Girrard’s lovely Kauai vacation home. They are partners who thought it would be rejuvenating for us to be there for some of my recovery . We had a great time I am posting a couple of photos and a video of me swimming in the ocean . swimming near queens bath As if this year were not fun filled enough I almost cut off two of my fingers while trying to get reacquainted with my wood shop. This happened an hour after I had a tooth pulled to replace an old dental fridge that had failed . Kaki told me to go home and rest but I didn’t listen ……    All is good though the cuts were surface flesh only no nerve damage or muscle stuff.        Thanksgiving was great got to spend it with cindy goldfield and midget  gang , my mom came out from NH and complained that it was too cold here , hello global warming . It was so great to show off to her that I am doing so well . I am at 145 pounds which is 20 pounds over my lowest weight .      Things are  as good as they could be , kaki and I are going to her folks in san diego for the Baby Jesus birthday  party, thats gonna be fun as I have never been.

Also since we have been through the ringer this year and came out the other side in tact  and only missing a couple of parts. We have decided to take a long trip around the big blue dirt ball we all call home. We  will  travelling on visas in more ways than one :0)

We are hoping to start in late april near the cuba and then go to eastern europe turkey then move into southeast asia eventually ending in new zealand. So we  would love suggestions on places any of you may have been that you loved.  We want to take advantage of my good health 

This update  is coming form the strange world of chemotheropathy. I am receiving it as I type. It’s 3:45. I started at 10 so I am feeling the goofy head, and I can not speak correctly because of the nueropathy.

It went quickly today and I went home awake and made a grass-fed  Prather Ranch steak with potatoes and white corn on the cob  – hello hobby !  The trip to the Yuba was a rejuvenating success, brought about by the company of two rivers: one providing a steady gurgling song coming down the mountain, the other a river of laughter and love coming off the mountains of some dear, sweet friends.  I wish this was something I could do with all of you at some point. It would make me so happy to be able to share myself with all my friends when I am feeling this well, especially since most of my strength is a direct response to the abundance of  love and care that I have been so humbled to have received from you all.

Today was my second day in a row in the chemotherapy clinic and  here’s why: I went yesterday to visit for the first time a woman named Ginny, whom I was introduced to through a person Kaki does yoga with .  She and I have talked on the phone several times – she has the same cancer I did, but in a different part of her pancreas. As I have explained before, the chemo is brutal and I  only had  four sessions. She is my new hero because she is on her 8th, and the doctors still can’t say for certtain wether or not she will be having surgery. Yet her attitude is positive and strong, which is inspiring   to witness.  My strength was also  enhanced by the knowledge  that the surgery was definitely happening (except for the brief hicup at the end of chemo). It was my intention to go and give her some support but I must say that after basking in her strength and beauty, I walked away having gotten as much support as I intended to share. In fact, more. Thanks so much, Ginny. You can do it.

Got some great news today – I weigh 142 pounds!  Hello, fatty!  Also found out the ” Ma”  is coming out for Thanksgiving.  Hmmmm, I wonder what we are gonna have to be thankful for… Her visit is really exciting because she has not been back here since  I left the hospital.  I owe a great many thanks to  my mom for being so strong through all of this, and for giving me the space I needed  to heal after  being in the hospital . Being a parent, I know this whole thing  has been her worst nightmare, and  she has done what has been best for me regardless of her needs or pain  which is why she is trully a great mother  And, thankfully, my mother,  because it was those seeds of her inner strength planted in me  that have grown into the powerful roots of  my tree.

Thanks to the generosity of other friends, Kaki and  I went to the symphony, which was great becase it felt so normal to just be out at a show .

I  I have also included a photo from the burning man that showed up this week in rolling stone  !

It is now Monday, and, well, it turns out after going to see the wizard yesterday I got one of my wishes granted after all. I had my bobble head drain removed and heres why . While finishing the update I was writing, I got a pain attack so intense and severe that I had to go to the ER at UCSF Hospital (my home away from home). I have (had) two tubes that are connected to my insides: one is a feeding tube, which I use for giving myself extra hydration (water), and the other is a tube that drains the body fluid from around my pancreas while it’s healing. Yesterday, as I wrote earlier, I was experiencing great pain in my groin, penis and abdomen. It seemed like the usual annoying but tolerable pain that I have been dealing with for weeks, but then suddenly (while I was typing) it sent me to the floor, writhing. So once I got my composure, Kaki and I decided I should get to the hospital before it got to the point where I might need an ambulance.
Once at the hospital, I was put on intravenous pain killers. Unfortunately all that did was make me feel high, but it did not quell the pain. The next step was a cat scan, which revealed the problem. My drain tube had shifted and was rubbing on bladder and other nerves. I am so happy to report that once it was removed all my pain vanished instantly. It was as if I had a thorn pulled out of my side.
I am typing this 12 hours later and I am thrilled to say that I have not had any pain today, not even from the proctalgia fujax.
This is the most comfortable I have been in months.
All I have to say now is wheeeeew….

These past few days have been productive on the nutritional front. This is thanks to a visit with Dr. Kirkwood and her nurse practitioner Robin. The issue is that I wasn’t getting enough digestive enzymes. I only have 40% of my pancreas now and apparently it produces about 8 oz of the enzymes that are used to digest food, especially fat, every day.
I was taking enzyme pills when I was on chemotherapy prior to the surgery, but now it is much more crucial to my health rather than just helpful. While I have been taking them pretty regularly, it turns out I was taking them incorrectly.
This explains why I lost three more pounds since the last visit. I am weighing in at a whopping 124 pounds.
But Dr. Kirkwood and Robin explained how to get the most benefit out of them, and I’ve been following their advice. The new regiment of taking them has made me feel a little stronger every day, which really helps with dealing with the pain, which is still debilitating at times. Fortunately, that too is diminishing. The pain is not really the worst part, it is the fact that I never know when it’s coming or where it is going show up, or how intense it will be. Take, for instance, right now. As I’m writing this, I have a sharp, stabbing pain in my groin and penis that sends me to the floor. I think now this qualifies as reality typing — its like reality TV but the visuals are all internally manifested (picture a scarecrow with a grimaced face grabbing his crotch like a baseball player).
My goal now is to gain weight so I can start chemotherapy in the second week of August. I had chemo before the surgery, which is unusual since it normally it happens after. What I did not know was that if I do not restart the treatments within three months after surgery, I will not be having it at all. As much as I dislike the chemo, it is essential. The goal for gaining weight is two pronged, the second being trying to make it to Burning Man over Labor Day. I have been participating for 11 years, this being the 11th. I am sure there are many of you who are not familiar with it, and if you are curious there are many photos at the web site www.burningman.com. If you aren’t familiar with it, search for photos of the temple. The temples have always been built as memorials and place to let go. I went into my surgery with a mason jar and the request of my surgeon to please put part of me being removed into it. I woke up with the request fulfilled. It is my intention to leave the jar at the temple where it will be burned at the end of the week, along with all the diaries, photos and personal mementos. The temples have provided a way of letting go for all kinds of things (for example in 2002 a crew of firemen from New York placed a chest with debris from the towers there), and I’m looking forward to burning the pieces of this saga.
Today (Sun 24th) I have woken up with a minimal amount of in my drainage tube. This is the drain that runs internally to the site of my operation filling a bulb hanging off my side with body fluids from the healing process. While I was in the hospital I had one on each side of me. The left one came out the day I departed the hospital, but the right one has had too much fluid to be removed. At times, I was getting up to 400 ml a day in that one, and the maximum amount allowed for removal is 25 ml. Luckily, the output over the past two days has been around that level. It will be great to have it removed, it’s like have a tennis ball tethered to your gut bouncing around like bobble head doll on the dashboard of an old truck. I am hoping to get rid of the feeding tube also!
So the reality TV of the mind just became reality, reality the scarecrow is off to the ER to find the wizard for something is causing him to have tremendous pain in his bobble head drain …..

Felt like I was at 95%. Huge difference from last Thursday.  I can feel the next few days before my next chemo are going to be good. My body’s telling me I’ll be feeling fine.

Oversaw the delivery of the cabinets for the kitchen remodel I’ve been working on for my dear, sweet clients Jennifer and Craig.  Jennifer is the mother of a two-year old and newborn twins as of December. She thought it would be a good idea to stay with her parents in Minnesota while I remodeled their kitchen. This started in the middle of December. Fortunately I was done with all the heavy construction when the pain peaked. I actually got the call that they thought I had pancreatitis while I was sweeping up the last of the construction debris.

Fortunately, since the hospital stay and starting chemo, I’ve only had to oversee painters, tilers, and sheetrock workers, and not actually do any labor myself. I say fortunately because I’ve lost about 60% of my muscle mass. So on Monday I found myself driving a truckload of cabinetry over to the jobsite with my friend Tim and my brother Jimmy.  They did the lifting and I told them where to put them inside.

Which brings me to my next point. I’ve added a “Gratitude” button to try in some small way to express my thanks to everyone who’s been there for me, reached out to me, and supported me through this tough time. The list is incomplete and growing. Please take a minute to check it out.

Third chemo on Thursday.

Had 2^nd chemo Thursday. Was out and about on Friday and felt okay, strangely. Went out to dinner on Saturday night and ate a huge meal. Felt fine. But after that I’d been feeling progressively worse each day. Nauseous and unable to eat much.

I think I’ve eaten about 3,000 calories this whole week, of which I think 1,500 was that meal I had at Sunflower Saturday night – a delicious Vietnamese vegetable curry. (Note to self: don’t accept free Vietnamese iced tea after 9 pm. I was up literally all night. That was the most caffeine I have consumed in two months. I think the Vietnamese call it liquid meth.)

I burned off those 1,500 calories at the Alameda Flea Market on Sunday. For those of you who don’t know, the Alameda Flea is held the first Sunday of every month on the grounds of the old Alameda Naval Air Station. It covers a full two-and-a-half acres, and everything sold there must be at least 25 years old. It is a treasure trove of wonders and delights, and going there is one of my favorite things to do. This is evident in the household full of objects I have purchased there, from 100-year old lithograph print of a church (a church that I later accidentally stumbled upon in Paris with Barbara Caldwell) and the art deco pewter ashtray nymph on my mantelpiece to the lucite-encased ticket to the 1892 Chicago World’s Fair, a gift from my son Dillon. The most bizarre thing I’ve bought there is a set of  half-melted copper and latex antique baby dollhead molds. They have been banished to a box somewhere due to the horror and dismay they cause anyone who looks upon them.

Strangely, this was the first day I went to the Alameda Flea and didn’t buy something. Kaki and I were looking for a desk, and although we found one we loved, it was being wheeled out the gate by the person who had bought it. I guess the reason I didn’t buy anything is I was so focused on looking for the desk, not because I haven’t been purchasing  things. The future is mine and I shall not sway from buying something because of a fear that tomorrow may not come.

This belief was borne out by the beautiful art deco desk Kaki and I found on craigslist (that’s ‘classifieds’ to you 20^th century folks) two days later. And it was less expensive than the one art the market.

So I started feeling worse late Sunday, and it got worse with each passing day. It peaked (or bottomed out) on Thursday. No appetite and lots of nausea. I feel like I’m still losing weight.

A dear friend who shall remain nameless (whose name starts with an ‘M’ and ends with an ‘E’ and sounds like something you sing into) brought me some traditional medicinal herbs to help me deal with the nausea and lack of appetite. Additional note to self: Like Vietnamese iced tea, this should not be imbibed after 9 pm. I found myself self-exiled to the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the sounds of someone breaking into my house. Turns out it was the wind and my imagination jimmying the lock.

Apparently this was due to the strain of herb, and I have been assured by another dear friend in Mendocino County (whose name starts with an ‘S’ and ends with an ‘E’ and rhymes with the part of the shirt that covers your arm) that the next strain will do the trick without causing Vietnamese Tea Syndrome. It’s great having so many friends so well versed in the traditional Native American healing arts.

Starting on Friday, I’ve been feeling incrementally better each day.