If you’ve been following along here or listening to the podcast, you know that Brad and I planned to go on an epic cross country trip together. Before we could leave, we were waiting for the scan that showed his treatment was working. That showed stability. The scan that said he would live a little longer. The scan that never came. We thought we could make it. Thought he would make it. We put a deposit down on an RV, aptly named “The Gemini.” We talked about painting it and adding the Defending Your Life logo on the side. We planned our route. We would circle the country and visit places he’s lived. Converse with old friends. Make new friends. We wanted to podcast and document the journey. Show us living courageously while talking with other people on how they, too, live courageously. I would drive and he would write. We would listen to music and have adventures and live our life as fully as possible. We had a plan. I now have to make new plans. The reality is, this road trip was just one of many plans we counted on that will never come to life. One of thousands of dreams and ideas and ambitions we discussed. It is part of a future that no longer exists. My future now looks wildly different. My future is unrecognizable. After Brad passed away, I knew I still had to take this road trip. Not the exact trip we planned (buying an RV now seems outrageously irresponsible), but something that could partially mimic it. I’m not entirely sure why I feel the need to embark on this solo journey. Maybe because I just want to escape and run away. Maybe because I feel I owe it to Brad. Maybe because I just can’t accept the fact that I am supposed to make new plans and instead would rather cling to my old plans, our plans. Maybe I just need to share - and write - our story. Maybe I just need to honor Brad. I don’t know. Maybe it’s all of these reasons and a 100 others I don’t fully realize. But in 10 days I am getting on the road. Leaving on the first day of spring. Brad loved significant dates. He loved the equinox. The idea of a refresh. A new season. He proposed to me on the first day of fall. We got married a year later on that same date. Our anniversary date was rotating with the fall equinox, changing slightly each year, depending on the sun. “It’s gross how romantic it is,” Brad used to tell people. So now on the spring equinox, I’ll be embarking on this new season of my life (it's gross how cliche it is). Generally, I feel lost in my life. Lost at home. Unsure of what to do and where to go. I’m hoping escaping for a bit will give some clarity, some sense of my next steps. If nothing else, it will give me an adventure. If there is one thing Brad and I loved together, it was an adventure. And because you can’t just have a soul searching road trip without some bigger purpose (thank you Brad for your influence to always go beyond yourself and think bigger), in addition to writing, I am hoping to continue podcasting for Defending Your Life in a variety of ways. First, I want to have conversations with other people like me. Conversations with both cancer survivors and other widows (I have the unfortunate distinction of being a member of both clubs). The topic of each conversation will be how you live courageously in the face of cancer and/or loss and how do you find joy during your darkest moments. Two concepts I am currently struggling with. How do you go through this and make it out on the other side?? I’d also love to keep podcasting about Brad, his influence, and his life. Talk to friends and family (both those I know and others I don’t). I want all the Brad stories. Even better if those stories come with a couch I can crash on. And finally there will probably be some “I’m all alone in the desert, what the fuck was I thinking?” solo podcasts. Because let’s face it, I am utterly unprepared (both emotionally and physically) to go on the road for the next two months and the combination of insanity, unpreparedness, and grief has got to lead to some stellar podcast content. At the end of the day, I really see this trip as a search for joy and meaning - two things Brad and I proudly lived our lives by. And ever since Brad died, I feel like I’ve lost both. I'm hoping to stumble upon them somewhere along the way. The rough route. Who has an extra place for me to stay?
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I’ve been putting this off for sometime, but the most recent podcast episodes of Defending Your Life are up, including Brad’s last episodes and life after his death. Listening to these episodes was not easy for me, but this podcast was one of the most important projects in the last several months of Brad’s life, and it’s important to honor his passion and contribution.
The reality is, the last 10 days of Brad’s life was tough. After we learned of his pulmonary embolism and the progression of his disease, Brad declined rapidly. His body was already failing him, but it was watching his mind slip away that was the most difficult. In the end stage of life (that’s what everyone calls it), it is not uncommon for confusion, fogginess, and hallucinations. As Brad’s organs began to fail, so to did his mental capabilities. He was still mostly his witty, hilarious, intelligent self, but this side effect was something I was unprepared for and was the most difficult to accept. Brad’s mind - his words, his thoughts - are a gift to the world and acknowledging that I would never get another conversation with Brad being fully Brad was one of the most devastating losses before his death. After Brad’s passing, the people in his life struggled on how to connect and move forward without him. Brad was our bridge and everyday we continue to make the effort to communicate and support each other. Jeremy and I are lucky enough to be in the same city and can podcast a bit of our process, but through texts, calls, emails, and visits, we regularly stay connected with Brad’s family and friends. I am incredible thankful for that. Many have asked if we plan to continue Defending Your Life. The answer is yes, but as of now, we don’t know exactly what that means. We are still trying to figure out the best way to use this platform to honor Brad, his desire to connect, and passion for contribution. Until then, here are the newest episodes of 2017: Season 2, Episode 1: PE & Progression Summary: It's a new year and a new season of Defending Your Life. In this first episode of the year, Brad and Dana are given some bad news after the discovery of a pulmonary embolism. Season 2, Episode 2: Love Story (Sort of) - Part 1 Summary: In this episode, Brad and Dana attempt to discuss their love story with Jeremy, Dave, Lindsey, and Margo. But with Brad on a cocktail of pain meds and others just on cocktails, what was supposed to be a love story, ends up being a hilarious, juvenile, laugh fest about sex, love, and relationships. Moms, Dads, and Grandparents, you may want to skip this one. Season 2, Episode 3: Love Story (Sort of) - Part 2 Summary: Part 2 of the “love story” continues with Brad, Dana, Jeremy, Dave, Lindsey, and Margo. Season 2, Episode 4: Post Brad Summary: On the day of Brad’s passing, Dana, Jeremy, Dave, Lindsey, and Margo sit down and talk about their thoughts and feelings. Season 2, Episode 5: No, But Yes Summary: Jeremy and Dana - a little hesitantly - sit down for their first podcast together after Brad’s memorial service and reflect on life after Brad. Season 2, Episode 6: Valentine's Day Solo Summary: Dana talks about being alone on Valentine’s Day. Season 2, Episode 7: Guilt and Shame Summary: Suneil, a great friend of Dana and Brad, joins Jeremy and Dana to talk about the struggle to move forward without Brad and ways to cope throughout that process. Bradford,
This morning Dune and I sat in your chair. The leather chair I promised you on our third anniversary in 2011, when we lived among cheap Ikea furniture and hand-me-downs and were too broke to invest in something so luxurious. The chair we finally splurged on 5 years later, after you got sick and needed a better place to read and write. We sat in your chair and looked out as the sun rose above the water. We sat in your chair, with the window open, feeling the cool breeze and the warm sun. We sat in your chair and experienced the morning exactly how you would have done. Quietly, thoughtfully, reflectively. We sat in your chair and wept. It’s been 4 weeks. I still keep waiting for you to walk in the door. Still reflexively grabbing for my phone to call you. Still reaching my hand over to hold you in bed. I still refer to myself as a “we” even though I am now just a “me.” We have been a unit, a team. We have been an unstoppable force. We have been a family. How do I go back to being just me? But, because of you, I am not alone. The people closest to you - your family, your best friends, your core - have become my greatest sources of strength. I can’t possibly understand the cruelty of you being taken from me, from all of us, but I will forever be grateful for both the relationships you encouraged me to form when you were here and also the ones you left behind when you were taken from us. I am not okay. But because of your depth and nurturing of relationships, because of your connection, I have an army that looks out for me. One that allows me to laugh and cry and get really, really angry. One that allows me to just be. That’s because of you. A couple weeks before you passed away, you told us that the meaning of your name is a bridge: “Bradford literally means bridge!” You have no idea the bridge you are. Your work in the city, your passion for inclusive growth, your thesis on the divide at Alter Road, your relationships, your friends and family, your presence. You were a bridge, connecting us all in unimaginable ways. You are my bridge. It’s been 4 weeks and even though I feel pain and loss in ways I didn’t know existed, I also know that my life is more connected, more meaningful, and more full of joy because of you. Because of you, I will spend my days trying to live more courageously. Thank you for the greatest love story I’ll ever know. True story. Today my worst nightmare happened. We lost my love, my best friend, my heart, Bradford. He passed away in our bed, holding my hand, just like he wanted. I don’t think there is a person in this world that would disagree that we lost him far before his time. He had so much more to give in this life and was robbed of his full potential. But for the amount of time he did have with us, he lived more, loved more, and accomplished more than most do in 100 years. Brad affected the lives of everyone around him. Real connection was his top priority and I don’t think he fully realized how many people he truly reached - through his passion, drive, and search for deeper meaning.
Brad was the light of my life and always pushed me to be the best version of myself. He challenged me and questioned me. But most of all, he loved me. Fiercely. And Unequivocally. Our love was loud and obvious for the world to see. Our love was fearless. Brad, the idea of living a life without you is more than unbearable. It’s impossible. You were my always. My forever. Already my life feels so quiet without you. I don’t know how to go on without you, how to be my best self without you by my side, but I will try. Because that’s what you wanted and that’s what you deserve. And I will figure out how to honor your life, every single day of mine. And I know I am not alone in that. Love, I will miss everything about you. Every single day. I am so proud of the life you lived and the man you were - not just in the face of this terrible diagnosis - but every day I knew you. You are my hero and no one lived their life more courageously than you. Sweet dreams my love - I love you more than the sun and the moon. We wanted to provide a quick update. Last Thursday after finding a blood clot in his lungs, Brad's doctors found significant progression of the disease. The news was difficult for everyone. Brad declined rapidly over the weekend and his family has gathered in Detroit over the last week or so. During that time, Brad & Dana have been visited by immediate family, cousins, aunts & uncles, and close friends. Brad is in hospice care and surrounded by his favorite music, stories and poems. He is as comfortable as possible and spending as much time as he can with everyone. Unfortunately we cannot accept or respond to the calls, visits and texts at this time, so let this update be our way of sending our love back to you. We will continue to update each of you as best we can throughout this coming weekend. Much love and continue to live courageously. -Jeremy Potter
It’s a new year and that means some new changes here at Defending Your Life. First of all, we’ll be switching up the tenses of these blog posts from third person to first person. Writing about yourself in the third person is really difficult and impersonal. Plus, it’s no surprise that I/we (meaning Brad and I) are writing all these posts, so moving forward, we are going to stop pretending to write about “them” and instead write about us. Mostly I (Dana) will be writing and updating the posts, but we’ll let you know when it’s Brad or Jeremy or some other third party writer.
Secondly, as we’ve mentioned in a couple of the podcast episodes (which I’m sure you all are completely up to date on, right?), we have added some additional sections to this site! Take a look around, but most noticeably, we’ve added some of the projects we are working on (Brad’s memoir project, my #ForcedJoyProject), more in depth details about Brad’s Complete Treatment, and a Community section to keep you all connected with what we are working on. You’ll also notice a couple new sections that we’ll be implementing moving forward (Profiles in Courage and Fundraising efforts by friends and family). With the podcast, we closed out the year with over 50 episodes! We are currently adding an intro/outro to all the published episodes (or season 1, if you will) and hoping to get them up on iTunes soon for even easier listening capabilities. And last but not least, we are officially on social media! What’s a blog/podcast/website without a social media presence?? This is a big way on how we can stay engaged with all of you (especially when we don’t have time to update the site), so do us a favor and follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. The holidays were a whirlwind of celebration and visitors - from Brad's first girlfriend, Bridget to the Fletcher Mafia crew to family who spent Christmas with us. In the last couple weeks, we threw an epic version of our annual Get Frosted party (our 7th!) and hosted an intimate, last minute New Year's Eve celebration. Aside from a couple scheduled check ups, we spent zero time in the hospital and had no emergency situations (a great way to finish out the year).
Corresponding Podcast Episodes: Episode 44: Fletcher Mafia Summary: Althea and Fabian - friends from the Fletcher School - talk about relationships and ambition with Brad, Dana, and Jeremy. Episode 45: Updates with Brad and Dana Summary: Brad and Dana update the listeners on the direction of Defending Your Life as they head into the New Year. They also do a quick update on Brad's health, including some revealing and somewhat scary news, after Brad's follow up with the Oncologist and Neurosurgeon. Episode 46: High School Sweethearts Summary: Brad’s first girlfriend, Bridget, visits and they talk about young love and their 20 year friendship. Episode 47: Brad and Eliza Summary: Brad and Dana's 4 year old niece, Eliza Dowling, expertly podcasts about Christmas in this short and sweet episode (and one of our favorites!). Episode 48: Un-Grinched Summary: On Christmas eve, Dana's sister, Margo, joins Brad and Jeremy to talk about Christmas and being called a grinch in the past. Episode 49: Dana Summary: Late night, after Christmas Eve’s Eve Celebrations, Brad, Jeremy and Margo talk about Dana and their impression on how she is handling the diagnosis. Episode 50: Jeremy Solo Summary: Jeremy reflects on the previous episode’s conversation regarding Dana. Episode 51: Christmas! Summary: Brad and Dana are joined by friends and family in this Christmas episode, hosted over their dining room table with loved ones. Episode 52: Dana Solo Summary: Dana reflects and reacts to the "Dana" episode (episode 49). Episode 53: Transitions Summary: Brad, Dana, and Jeremy reflect on transitions - both in life and in the podcast - as well as address using the podcast as a tool to discuss tough topics. Episode 54: End of Year Reflections Summary: In the last podcast of the year, Brad, Dana, and Jeremy talk about what they got out of the experience of podcasting and the direction of Defending Your Life moving forward. Brad's grad school classmates from The Fletcher School at Tufts (aka Fletcher Mafia) created the most amazing video for Brad. Don't Stop Believing, everyone.
After much debate about whether or not to travel, Brad and Dana decided to make the 8 hour trek to VA to celebrate with the #FrostPack. Brad's brother and aunt arranged an epic party in Brad's honor, filled with great food, great music, and even better people. Brad had surprise visits from friends and family from all aspects of his life and from all over the country, including friends from elementary school, high school, college, and grad school. No doubt the discomfort from the car was worth it. Corresponding Podcast Episodes: Episode 41: The Writing Project Summary: Brad and Dana travel to VA for an epic #FrostPack party. In this episode, they share with Marsie some exciting plans for the future. Episode 42: Luke & The Frosts Summary: Summary: Brad's cousin, Luke joins Brad & Dana as well as Marsie, Dave, and Lindsey to talk about family and what it means to be a Frost. Episode 43: Priorities Summary: From VA, Dave, Lindsey, and Marsie talk with Brad and Dana about priorities and time. #FrostPack Dance Party
This post is copied from Brad's personal blog, The Road Taken. Many may recall: on October 27, I started the surgery process with my arms raised; ready to fight. The surgery decision came briskly, just 2 weeks following my initial diagnosis on October 12. At the time, I was told to anticipate 6 weeks of recovery, which would align well with the next phase of treatment: systemic immunotherapy to help eliminate, shrink, or stall my cancer. We never could have anticipated what would follow. Week after week, we were flooded with bad news: the cancer spread to my spine; fracturing a vertebrae; it spread to abdomen lymph nodes, and maybe my skull. The tumor in my liver had grown at a terrifying rate–4x it’s original size. Newer tumors popped up in my lungs and liver. I developed double vision due to a weakened cranial nerve and, to boot, two small hematomas on my brain. I’ve now lost over 50lbs. All that disease progression took place in less than 6 weeks. Before learning of the spread, we were given a real glimmer of hope on a “cure” treatment because my pathology report finally exhausted other Renal Cell Carcinoma types, putting my cells in the category of ‘clear cell’ Kidney cancer. This is, relatively speaking, a more common and better known type to treat. Just a week later, my progression rate caused gasps among the tumor board that reviewed it–and it would drastically changed my treatment path. Now, whether ‘clear cell’ or not, this pace of progression made the option of a known curable treatment, Interluekin 2 (IL2) at this stage virtually impossible because of my poor–and declining–physical condition. This alone was a major blow: although IL2 gives 5 years cure to just 6-10% of its recipients; it is the only known treatment to provide that path. IL2 is also effective at achieving some other progression free goals for up to 40-50% of patients. But, IL2 is known as a brutal treatment itself; no picnic; requiring ICU like care and often leading to very challenging and long-term side effects. So, some saw it as a blessing in disguise for me not to potentially endure such a toxic and low chance of success. Even still, if it were on the table, i would likely have taken the shot – there was a specific IL2 treatment trial in Dallas i found that seemed like a good fit based on the metastatic state of my first scans in October. But, new information leads to new decisions. I would add: every stone of 'alternative treatments’ is being concurrently researched, considered and evaluated. Cannabis oils; infrared saunas; dendritic vaccine therapies; stem cells; supplements; hyperthermia; Low dose chemo; tumor genomes; vitamin C IVs, Accupuncture, essential oils, fasting…you name it. I’ve asked anyone with suggestions to make them and be specific. And, as I’ve intended from the beginning, we’re continuously closing in on some hybridization of these strategies in concert with cutting edge medical treatments, comprehensive nutrition and cancer related supplemental supports. I hasten to add: I’ve been told I’m on prayer lists all across the country. I’m aware of a continuous stream of loving thoughts, prayers and well wishes, And, with every text, note, FB like – it all adds up to a profound and sincere expressions of love that lifts me up everyday. I know I’m not alone. Further, friends brings books, food, games, gags. We’ve raised thousands of dollars over night–multiple times. It’s a truly awesome and incredible array of love. These acts of kindness and love reveal to me an enormous degree of our collective spirit: showcasing such beautiful human decency and undeniable agency is inspiring. And, I’m doubling down with my daily (yet feeble) attempts to practice mindfulness, meditate, eat gluten free, dairy free, sugar free. To be vulnerable – brutally honest even – about what we’re up against without giving up hope. So, I’m asking everyone for an ounce more: please move confidently with us as we sift through the days and weeks ahead. It’s a tough sell: confidence in this approach given how the disease has spread so far: I know I’ve tried to sell it before, but didn’t respond quickly enough to the horrifying pain I was in the week of Thanksgiving, Then, I was then holding on fast to my potential cure. Hoping that I could just turn the corner on my own. I was wrong. Halting progression: This it’s my most important marker in the next 4-12 weeks. If we can do it, it will allow this avalanche of love and the 'complete treatment’ approach to get the real shot it deserves at seizing the day. And–I truly believe–then a path to adding years on my horizon instead of months. On Saturday, November 26, I was admitted to the hospital for a whole week. After completing 2.5 hrs of MRIs straight on my fractured back, drenched in sweat, we set a path for the near term: largely to avoid risk of spinal cord injury. With the St. Joe’s team, we negotiated to accelerate 15 doses worth of radiation in 5 days so I could as swiftly as possible commence the systemic immunotherapy I desperately need to halt this progression. But, I also have to own the reality, and face up to the fact that my time here may be viciously short. All of this has come so fast and in dizzying degrees of urgency, I finally podcasted openly and directly about my mortality. Up until that point, I’d been trying to compartmentalize all of these complications from the cancer itself – trying, desperately, to outflank the disease and the threat of death. If there was one ounce then of good news, it was this: my mission got crystal clear: get in line for systemic therapy that will reduce the rate of progression. Then, continue to do everything within my humble power to be healthy, be connected, and be alive through this process so I can fight for the next stage all the way through. Unbelievably, just weeks before all this transpired in my case, a new study provided unusual clarity: One of RCCs front line therapy, called Cabozantinib, saw dramatically better results than its peers at reducing rapid disease progression. For once, I felt this was unquestionably my best path right now. My doctors rushed an order–there are maybe 200 patients in the country on this pill–which costs an astonishing $100,000 per month. But, hey, I’m worth it! And, this is my best shot. Everyone out there: this is heavy and wildly intense. But you see me in this next photo: arms raised, ready to fight. This photo was taken December 8, 2016: It was my first dose of Cabozantinib, which arrived by mail the afternoon before. We have a 30 day supply. It will be arduous: most of all in the uncertainty of whether its working until our next scans in 4-6 weeks. And, desperately, I’m hoping to be as boring as possible during this time: no emergency visits. Side effects to a minimum.
So far, so good. My pain management is better and the treatment isn’t having any major effects. I’ve had three similar days – a level of predictability I’ve not had in months. So, day zero was Thursday, December 8 at 7am. Despite all the ups and downs to date, we must measure all future disease progression from my state now; not from October. It’s a new beginning; a steeper climb, but still filled with hope and promise. Day zero: I started the systemic treatment yesterday. Day 1, I’m up. I’m working. I’m turning the corner. Now, we all have to see how it proceeds. Your patience and support is vital to me more than ever. I’m confident this is the right thing and am so grateful for everyone’s faith, support and encouragement. Stay with us. Let’s fight. |