Hobbling slowly to the ring, from Victoria BC, he is your cruiserweight Chronic Pain Champion…Kiefer Wheeler!

You probably can't tell at first, but I’ve been suffering from chronic pain for the last 12 years. I use mobility aids to get around, my joints and muscles ache, and it gets worse each day. New and novel medical procedures, treatments, medications, exercise (and non-exercise) regimens—I’ve tried them all, to no relief. But I still greet each day with a grin and power through it.

Earlier this year, my medical team and I thought I had caught a break: in Australia, I had respite from that constant pain. After extensive research and consultation with my care team, they were all in agreement that the change in environment may be an opportunity for me to live pain free and have a “normal” life.

While organizing this trip, my pain worsened—more quickly than expected. The cyst in my spinal cord is being pinched, meaning my limbs have started failing and my hands go numb at random. I can no longer knit, one of my joys and distractions. The tics from my functional neurological disorder have returned, causing delayed physical responses and dropping whatever I have in hand. I cry out in pain in public.

Since I started this journey, I’ve been in contact with the MAiD (Medical Assistance in Dying) team through our local health network. It is a long, gruelling, intensive process that includes a lot of interviews, forced waiting periods, psychiatric assessments, and thus a lot of time for introspection. It’s not an easy procedure.

I have been officially approved for MAiD. My care team, although at first hopeful about Australia, are also at a loss. At this point they are supporting me as best they can as a patient essentially in palliative care. Nearly chained to my bed, I can get out only if I’m heavily medicated, and things will only get worse until I no longer have any quality of life. We expect that to happen soon.

The decision wasn’t difficult. I’ve decided to follow through with MAiD. The pain is too debilitating to fathom living longer, even with a chance of some relief. My care team supports me in this decision, as they agree there’s not much they can do. I am at peace. My passing date is mid-September.

While I am no longer going to Australia, your support in my final months would allow me to connect with my friends and family so that we may experience closure. This includes the cost of travel, food, lodging, and the adventures themselves.

Your donation could be the one to cross off a (very humble) bucket list item:

These may seem insignificant, but they mean the world to someone on their farewell tour. Your support will allow me to experience some lasting moments with those friends and family who have been with me throughout this journey, and wind down my life on a positive note.

Any and all contributions—whether financial or simply sharing this campaign—are humbly and graciously appreciated. I’m ready to go, but I’d love to create a few more special moments before I leave. Plus, honestly? My life is very short and I would like my nails to be very long.

Let this match end by count out.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Your Champion,

Kiefer.