Dave Silverstone's Fight For His Life

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. 

After all I have fought through, and fought for, the past six years - caring for my parents through eight major surgeries, near-fatal illnesses, my Dad's passing after a long struggle; being laid off the day after I laid him to rest; caring for their dear dogs; the ridiculous accidents that derailed my best plans; depression, the opportunities I lost or had ripped from me, the deaths and losses - after all of that, when I had used the last of my resources to get my Mom (and Vega, and Sunny before he passed) down to a good, safe place in Florida, when I was set to begin a career once more... 

This:

I began experiencing debilitating pain. Tests were inconclusive, and slow. An MRI revealed an aggressive metastatic process in my bone marrow -- but no treatment was begun, since it wasn't clear what it was.

It turned out, after nearly two more months of investigation to be this: a cancer so rare, there are no exact matches in the clinical literature. 

Rare, and very, very bad. 

•It is what is called a "signet ring cell carcinoma" - a rare type of cancer found most often in the GI tract. 
•It is a "carcinoma of unknown primary" - meaning none of the tests, scans, or invasive exams have been able to find the cancer's origin, rendering it even rarer, and harder to treat. 
•It is "metatstatic bone marrow cancer" - which is generally quite bad, not only for the damage and morbidity, but for the excruciating pain it generates as it progresses. 

Signet ring cell carcinoma is almost unheard of in the bone marrow; and in all but a literal handful of those cases -- three, per one researcher -- the primary was easily located. No cases match my age or demographics. 

I am in uncharted territory. There is no reason to expect that this will go well. But by the same token, there is no reason to expect any outcome over another. It will come down to medicine, it will come down to doctors, it will come down to how much I can endure, and how hard my body and spirit can fight. 

It is a fight I need to win. 

My mom needs someone to take care of her when she is in need. I need to resume work to honor my Dad's life. I need to do my part to leave this world better than I came into it. I have endured and grown too much, if only through the suffering of the past years, to leave just yet. 

But I have no financial resources to fight it with - I have stretched, and borrowed, and insisted to myself I would feel better, I would be able to find some way to keep my head above water, as I always had. But I have nothing. I have begun the process of getting what little support is offered through disability and welfare; through charitable grants and programs that assist cancer patients with housing and transportation. Even in the best of scenarios, I may not see the benefits for over two months - and others I will not be able to count on in an emergency or sudden change of condition. 

I have insurance - though very limited. Already, to get the outside consults recommended for such a rare and challenging case, I'm looking at initial out-of-pocket bills of over several thousand dollars, before any tests or labs. Because I'm no longer consistently able to ambulate or care entirely for myself, I'm forced to shuttle between my doctors, my insurance - my whole life, really, in NYC - and my Mom, with her accessible apartment and limited ability to help me, in Florida. I've burned through my frequent flier miles and old hotel points, and still the burden mounts. 

Whether out of denial, or out of fear that I cannot possibly ask for more generosity than I have already been given in this life... I have become a charity case. In the most desperate of need. 

I live in a country where insurers suggest customers beg for money if they want a life-saving transplant . Where they arbitrarily deny care for no reason but that they can.  Where callous and cruel politicians think nothing of stripping the barest of medical safety nets from those least able to lose them.  Where, unfortunately, being unable, physically, to provide for myself will be no excuse when I'm unable to afford not just the care that might save me, but the basic necessities of life. 

I have borrowed in the past - as a young, able-bodied man with a great education and some excellent references, it was always understood I could eventually make good. But now I can't promise that. It's terrifying. I might receive every cent of financial support I could dream of, every ounce of care and love and compassion one might hope for -- and still lose this fight. I don't want to ask anyone I love to make an investment I can't guarantee. All I can guarantee this time is that I will fight. I will fight with every last ounce of strength given to me. With all the love and gratitude I have in my heart. With all my desperate need to be part of a better tomorrow, before I can leave this world. 

I do not know how much I will need in the end. I know that, at the very least, this should sustain me through the current bills and scheduled care through the next two months, barring any major changes. (Amended: first week of may, still several weeks out from getting disability. Have been advised by doctors and fellow cancer survivors that no matter how much I imagine it will cost, it will be much, much more, and I should ask for enough to take care of emergencies I can't foresee).

I have set up a journal on CaringBridge if you'd like to track the latest in my fight. I am also happy to provide direct transfer information if you'd rather avoid the fee on this site. I can always use frequent flier miles - whether gifted, or used to book travel. At the advice of another friend, I even set up an Amazon "wishlist" with some creature comforts if that's more how you'd like to help. 

My only hope is that asking for help I may never be able to repay, is easier than defeating this sick, strange, ridiculous attack on my life and my future. Because this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.