In Memory of David Kibbey

David died of lung cancer at home on August 9, 2001. His energy, enthusiasm for other people and the work he did to develop environmentally-safe workplaces helped countless people. He will be missed by many. We offer his journal entries as a continuing source of inspiration for other people with lung cancer.

David in Wasserburg, Germany

David Kibbey, of Berkeley, California, has traveled far since being diagnosed with nonsmall cell lung cancer in January 2000. His environmental building consulting business was just prospering when he coughed up a little blood, leading him to get a chest XRay and scans, then removal of his left lung in February. David's work has put him in the forefront of this country's "green building" movement. His specialty is creating healthy indoor work and home environments by eliminating toxic materials in building construction and furnishings. He was 59 and hadn't smoked for over a decade. He was physically active and he ate a healthy diet. David and his longtime partner, Charlotte, have a wide circle of friends, people who became even more important to them following his lung cancer diagnosis.

From the moment of his diagnosis, David stopped working at his business in order to focus on his own well being. He endured complications following surgery, then began chemotherapy and a complex regimen of alternative therapies.

Most recently, the cancer has recurred. David went to Germany recently for hyperthermia (heat) treatments, a therapy whose effectiveness for treating cancer has been seen anecdotally in Europe for over 70 years, and is now being developed with the latest high-tech advances. [note from ALCASE: Hyperthermia is a therapy whose effectiveness for treating lung cancer has not yet been determined through randomized clinical trials.]

What follows is a unique and highly personal chronicle of David and Charlotte's experiences. They share some of their email messages to friends and relatives, sent from diagnosis through surgery, chemotherapy, and alternative treatments. For them, it continues to be a valuable form of communication, a source of hope and a way to discover meaning in difficult times.

[David, before surgery]:

Friends, Family, and others,

I am touched and moved by the caring and concern so many of you have been showing me. Several stories I have been hearing about others surviving lung surgery give me strength and hope.

[Charlotte, pre-surgery]:

Hello Dear Ones,

Well, the good news is that David's bone and brain scans came up clear... the doctors are all confident that David is strong enough for both the surgery and for a life with one lung. Apparently his remaining lung will enlarge and fill some of the extra space he is about to have inside. I am amazed that in a few weeks I have adapted enough to tell you all of this as if it were normal and reasonable, which it is in this new world we have entered so abruptly. Hearing from and about so many other people who have gone through similar experiences helps. I often have the sensation that everything -- people, tasks, feelings, obligations, thoughts -- is flying by and through me and that I simply can't comprehend it all, let alone respond, or keep up.

[David, two days before surgery]:

Well, here we are at the brink: Double-Lunged man about to become One Lung-er. What I am about to lose is nothing compared to what I have gained already in this high-speed experience. Never before have I felt as centered, balanced, and at ease in my skin. Never before have I understood so well that the choices are more about how I can play out each moment. Everything about my life has changed radically during these past few weeks. I am now eating only vegetarian food. More than ever before in my life, I am finding it possible to receive the generosity of others -- As the [surgery] day approaches, I still have a strange absence of fear and anxiety. I have been listening to visualization tapes and healing music.

[Charlotte, two days after surgery]:

Getting through the surgery was a big hurdle. I was amazed at the burden that lifted after I saw David in the recovery room, alive and looking like himself, with the addition of a lot of tubes. David felt euphoria after the surgery and greatly enjoyed many wonderful visits in the hospital.

[David, post-surgery]:

It is now twelve days since I went to the hospital for surgery to remove my left lung. Needless to say, I have learned a great deal about the world of western medicine, hospitals, doctors, and caregivers of various sorts. I have gathered a mountain of information about complementary medicine, alternative modalities, and a number of unusual ways to deal with cancer. I owe much of the spectacular success and speed of my recovery to the prayers and healing thoughts you have been sending me from all corners of the planet. Later yesterday [after I drove in the car awhile] I walked two blocks up the street, visited with neighbors, and returned home. Today I took the same walk with an entourage of visitors, but did not have to stop to rest along the way. We have let go the day and nighttime assistants and I am participating in cooking meals, washing dishes, laundry and other housekeeping chores, as well as all my own dressing and personal hygiene tasks. How do I feel?

• Elated
• Hopeful
• Grateful
• Less and less pain at the incision and thorax
• Still slightly breathless and panicky when I do too much too fast, but able to calm my breath with meditation
• Able to walk slowly for seemingly limitless distance, quickly for very short distances
• Able to climb stairs slowly with rests every few steps
• Able to climb into a regular bed with extra pillow propping, but requiring some assistance to get back out
• Requiring substantial naps and rests during day, but able to keep active in conversation and other sitting tasks for several hours at a time
• Eating 3/4 size meals and nearly always finishing
• Other digestive functions full on track -- finally
• Still utterly fascinated by all the beauty encapsulated in each waking moment
• More tolerant than ever
• Better able to see my choices in what appear to be difficult challenges
• Better able to see the positive side of each choice

[Charlotte, post-surgery]:

One of the many things I am learning from this journey is that when I shut down to attempt to avoid pain, I don't succeed, but I do end up blocking out the love, joy and connection that could carry me through the pain... A friend of ours who is a hospice nurse told us that we will get exhausted if we ride the roller coaster of good news = elation and bad news = depression.... The roller coaster is highs and lows, though it is all intense and this particular journey is certainly that: deep love, despair, gratitude, terror, loneliness, community, acceptance, rage, tenderness, grief, chaos, overwhelm, more love, receiving support and discovering that I can give more than I ever realized. I savor the ordinary, uneventful days when they occur.

[David, after his first chemotherapy]:

Today I am up and about, sort of limping around in a tingly, disconnected limbo. I find I am treading entirely new territory once again. Being treated with poisons to ward off microscopic cancer that may or may not be in my body, not knowing if it is working, not knowing how to describe the agonizing discomfort, yet being intensely aware of how much love I am feeling for Charlotte, feeling tenderness toward my own body and recognizing how strange everything seems right now. I have been giving it all I have with complementary stuff: herbs, acupuncture, Jin Shin Jyutsu, Reiki, supplements, prayers, meditation, visualization, Egyptian geometric healing, positive attitude, medications for nausea and pleuritis, lots of fluids and careful diet. Spirits are up, Weather is gorgeous. Support and help have been magnificent.

[David, continuing chemotherapy]:

I'm near the end of my second round of chemo. This time either I am being braver or the pain has not been as intense. Last time I kept expecting the pain of neuropathy and myalgia to continue getting worse at the initial continuous rate, when, in fact, eventually it diminished and went away. The worst of the pain is the anticipation of it getting worse. I worked with a carpenter to remove and replace the fence posts and gateway at the front entrance to our house. Manual labor for two entire days! It took my mind off my body. Working out all the glitches and seeing the job completed was satisfying indeed -- after five months of nearly no physical actvity. Then I spent the next day in bed.

I have learned a great deal since my diagnosis [8 months earlier]. Even disagreements and bad days are easily absorbed within the greater good of being alive right now. My left ribs are still very tender since surgery, but my stamina and endurance continue to improve. I have dusted off the old bicycle and intend to start regular exercise rides as soon as this flu subsides.

Since the diagnosis of lung cancer last January 18, I have begun to experience a stable sense of balance. I am less inclined to take politics, new events, arguments, impolite drivers, or other vicissitudes as seriously as I once did. I have a wonderful life here with Charlotte and I could not possibly live in a more beautiful place. I thank you for all your caring and support. I would like you to know that I think of all of you often and I feel privileged to have received so much from you. During this period I have learned to wait, to pause, to still my mind, to pay attention, and to trust whatever it is that created this universe. No matter what the future holds for me, I know that life happens now. I choose to live, love, enjoy, and praise all that I have and leave the dreading and fear to others.

[Charlotte]:

Recently I looked again at the photos from David's birthday party, which was just before chemo; I was shocked at how scrawny and drawn he looked then. He looks sturdy now, which gives me great comfort. That he healed from surgery during an extended toxic bath is a tribute to his body's strength. It has been two months now since his last chemo treatment. He still has neuropathy in his feet and a frog in his esophagus, and has been avidly riding his new bicycle, bragging about passing young and presumably two-lunged cyclists.

[David to ALCASE, December 2000]:

I have now been diagnosed with four probable metastases and I am about to travel to a clinic in Germany for treatment there. Hyperthermia treatments there are integrated with chemotherapy and a number of holistic modalities to attempt to bring about remission. I am combining this approach with an intense program of nutrition, powerful Chinese anticancer herbs, acupuncture, and some other cutting edge stuff from this country. When I return from Germany, I intend to begin learning Qi Gong from a master here in SF.

My eye remains fixed on the next step and I find I am almost constitutionally unable to dwell upon the "what ifs," the "how longs," and the "then whats." Though I am consumed by consciousness of these four new masses, I don't really worry whether they will be my undoing. I am grateful for the many different treatments and sources of help that are available to me. My quest is to respond to this latest wakeup call constructively and to remain alert to the many wonders of each passing moment as it embraces me. I have never been to Germany before, so I anticipate having a richer experience there in a specialized clinic than I would have as a mere tourist.

Today, I feel fine. Today I am content. Today my life is abundant.

[David to ALCASE, February, 2001]:

I have just returned from three weeks of hyperthermia and other complementary treatment in Germany for four new metastases -- not much can be done for them in this country. Things are looking pretty good. I will be returning to Germany several more times, starting in April.

Picture is attached. It is of me standing on the bridge over the Inn River at Wasserburg, Germany. Treatments include local and whole-body hyperthermia with chemotherapy, detoxification, immune system boosting, inhalation and oxygen therapies, infusions of vitamin C, mistletoe, and other cytotoxic agents, and careful attention to diet and colon cleansing.

[David to ALCASE, March, 2001]:

I think it is extremely important that people stricken with this disease can find some words, stories, or examples of hope. The statistics have us at the bottom of the heap, yet our lives continue to shine, day after day, until we stop breathing... My last PET scan showed some improvement since my treatment in Germany. So I am returning to Germany in April for more treatment. I may be returning a few more times, until these metastases are entirely cleared up.