Sad news of DocDavid.

That is indeed sad news. Doc David was an inspiration to all of us. He struggled mightily and may he now rest in pain-free peace.

I can remember being so happy to find this forum and see the names of the regulars doing their best to answer our questions. This is another person that took a lot of time to help others and will be missed greatly! I am sure his family and friends miss him, but they will never really know how many people that Doc really has helped. Forever in debt to a great person you will be missed by many! 🙁

Doc David is someone I will never forget, he was always so helpful and caring not only to me but to everyone on this forum. I know he is in a better place now. Take care Doc David I will never forget you my friend.

Jerimy

I am overcome with great sadness reading this news.

If there is anyone here that can relay a message to his remaining family:

Doctor David spent much of his time here trying to help everyone he could. He and I communicated during a very trying time in my life. I was at the end of my rope, literally bedbound in my mid thirties, unable to hold a fork or spoon to feed myself. In all honesty, suicide seemed a very viable alternative.

He spoke of Rituxan, and the tremendous difference it made in his life. He wanted to be able to walk his daughter down the aisle when she was married. You could almost see him smile through his words. That may seem like a modest goal to some, but it can be a very steep mountain to climb for some of us. He gave me the particulars, and wished me well on my attempt to get an insurance company to pay for these treatments deemed experimental at the time.

Armed with the information and knowledge Doctor David bestowed upon me, I went into my neurologists office and told my doctor of the anecdotal evidence of Doc Davids success. My neurologist had never heard of Rituxan, but scheduled the treatments anyway as I had absolutely nothing to lose, and long story short, I made a remarkable recovery.

My recovery did not just help me as a man regain a huge part of the life I once knew, but it also helped my family as my symptoms improved the quality of all of my family’s lives improved in kind. I was able to play catch with my young son, and go shopping with my wife. I went from almost leaving this earth to a person that works with children my sons age. I teach karate when I feel up to it, and I coach my boy’s peewee football team. Along that journey I am touched by the lives of the children and hopefully I will have a positive influence on their lives. None of this would have been possible without Doctor David. I am forever greatful to him. Through this site, and through me getting better, Doc David touched a great many lives in a healing manner. A true doctor to the end.

I am so very very sorry for your family’s loss. I cry now due to the sadness of my friends passing. The man I knew here will always be the best kind of hero to me. I will remember him every time I am able to throw and catch a football with my son, and whenever I am able to coach the children and hopefully make their lives just a bit better for knowing me.

Thank you Doctor David. You will be missed. The world was a much better place with you in it.

Deepest Sympathies,

JohnC

Doc David,
You are sorely missed and much loved. Rest in peace friend.
Mary Ann

Doc David passing,

Heaven’s gain is our loss. He gave so much, so freely, and so accurately. He corrected many of our errors, with kind compassion. He gave many of us direction in searching for treatments and relief.

Indeed, heaven is a better place, and the pain he had to endure has passed.

Dick,
Nice to see you posting, glad you haven’t left the forum

On Doc David’s passing…
I have been unable to post anything meaningful, as I could never even begin to explain what he did for me when I felt I had no reason for living. We emailed back & forth regularly & I realize now how much of his energy those long emails must have taken. Just how ill he really was, I believe few really knew. He was so kind & informative, with a wonderful sense of humor. I am adding part of an email he sent to me back in 2003, explaining how to deal with those of us who do not make the wonderful recovery. He was certainly a very speical man, who was loved by all of us here on the forum…

“That wonderful day arrived, suddenly and quite unexpected. Having
experienced the relentless downhill course of a body with progressive kidney
failure and paralysing C.I.D.P., the initial quest was how to overcome the
progression of the diseases. There was the fainting and vomiting (due to
salt loosing renal failure), the heart failure (due to consequent salt
overload), the intermittent haemodialysis through the jugular vein, the
complication of M.R.S.A. infection of the jugular line, and finally,
surgical insertion of a large bore peritoneal catheter into my abdomen (for
future access for peritoneal dialysis). However, the main focus was on
trying to treat the C.I.D.P. so that I should eventually handle my own
dialysis. As usual treatment started with high dose steroids and
azothioprine; this was to suppress the immune reaction in order to make my
own antibodies less inclined to destroy my myelin sheaths, but also, of
course ( as an unwanted side effect) less inclined to defend my body against
external infection. Increasing azothioprine to 200mg daily knocked out my
bone marrow causing failure to produce platelets essential for clotting,
white cells essential for defence and red cells essential for carrying
oxygen. (After blood transfusions these all slowly recovered. Three courses
of five days intravenous immunoglobulin (Vigam) gave only temporary benefit.
Six plasma exchanges over twelve days simply gave swollen ankles and washed
out even more of my own antibodies.
I had then reached the slough of despond, and felt lower than ever before
in my life. There was talk of more plasma exchange, of lumbar puncture, of
radial nerve biopsy, but I had had enough, I own this body, this garbage
bag, and it is my responsibility. No more invasion thank you! I shall just
continue with the steroids, even though the high dose carries a major risk
of side effects.
With this decision came the realisation that I am not my body, I am simply
occupying it. If it gets better, or gets worse it will not be the result of
treatment, it will be in the natural history of its disorders, fate, the lap
of the gods, karma, however you look at it. Forget about the disorders, my
body is now disabled like that of many other people. Acceptance of this
fact dawned that wonderful day. Every day became a new challenge, a new
inconvenience to overcome. I use a wheelchair outside, a Zimmer indoors, my
hands are too weak to write, use scissors, buttons, zips, spread butter
etc., but two fingers can press keys on a keyboard. I use a drawing program
to design various aids for disability; there are many things not in disabled
living catalogues, which make life easier. I wake at 5.30a.m and with a
modified pen scrawl ideas for the day on a bedside note pad, I get up at
7.15a.m. and find I am singing in the bathroom looking forward to the day
ahead. The cynic will say it is steroid induced euphoria, I don’t think so.
My friends notice the change in my attitude and are only too willing to
help. It is thanks to them that I have returned (with my wheelchair and
clumsy eating habits) to Rotary, Probus, the bridge club, the Wessex
horological institute where it’s various craftsmen members have made up
some of the aids that I have designed. In a future edition of Reaching Out
I shall describe and photograph a number of these which might be of use to
others coping with C.I.D.P. or G.B.S.”
Love, David

He sure was a special person/man, I only wish I could of met him in person. However his advice, friendship and caring are something that I will never forget and will live on with me forever.

Jerimy

Pam,

thank you for sharing that. very inspirational.
On a day when i am not well…it really makes me think of the whole picture.

Yes, Doc David will be missed….I’ve missed him for a while now since he hasnt posted in some time.

good day everyone,
Stacey