Josh Lowe
Screenwriter
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2002
- Messages
- 1,063
My best friend died before my eyes tonight. I wrote this final update to send out to a mailing list of concerned friend and family he's emailed over the span of his illness. His parents asked me to write this.
"He is now at rest, we who are left are the ones to suffer."
This is Jeff's final health update.
At 9:40 PM Central Time, Jeffrey Allen Sample passed away due to
complications stemming from his 2 year fight against Hodgkin's Lymphoma.
Jeff was 25 years old. He died at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston,
Texas. Jeff spent the final days, hours, minutes and seconds of his life
surrounded by people that love him.
There is nothing that I can think, that I can say, or that I can write that
can begin to narrowly contain within a few words the boundless love, respect
and admiration I have for Jeff. Jeff was the closest friend I've ever had
and ever will have. We were the best of friends from the very first time we
met in the ninth grade. Throughout the 12 years since then my love for my
best friend did nothing but grow exponentially. I saw with what respect and
dignity he faced impossible odds. Jeff eventually became my hero, too.
Jeff fought this disease tooth and nail for nearly two years. During that
two years he endured obscene levels of pain for such long periods of time
that none of us can ever begin to understand without having endured them
ourselves. The tumors spread from his lymph nodes, all across his body and
refused to withdraw, despite the broadest varities of treatments prescribed
by some of the finest doctors in the world. The constant barrage of drugs
and chemotherapy eroded Jeff's immune system and left him vulnerable to the
threat of infection. Jeff was fighting fungal and viral infections combined
with the cancer and the plain old wear and tear on his body and mind. He
was fighting a war on three fronts and eventually he had to surrender. It
was his hope and the hope of his doctors that he would be able to return to
Key Largo, so he could spend the remainder of his time with his friends and
family in his own home. But his illnesses accelerated at an incredible
rate, so fast that even though I saw it with my own eyes, I can still hardly
believe it.
Jeff lost the use of his left lung some time ago, the tumors claimed it from
him. But as of this past Tuesday, his right lung was clear and healthy.
Between Tuesday and Friday morning, something just went wrong. Jeff awoke
early Friday morning with breathing difficulties caused by what seemed to be
anxiety attacks. They were brought under control several times, only to be
lost again. Ultimately, Jeff was taken to MD Anderson at 2:30AM on Sunday
when it became clear that his anxiety was getting the best of him. His
pulse oxygen numbers were too low, but quickly came back up once he was
hooked up to a mask in the Emergency Center. As the morning progressed,
however, the numbers began to slide again. X-rays of Jeff's chest revealed
that his once healthy right lung was in serious trouble. What caused his
condition to degrade so rapidly? There are no answers to that question,
just as there are no answers to the madness that is this horrible disease
he's been forced to endure for the final two years of his life.
By noon on Sunday the prognosis had been made by Jeff's doctors: the end of
his suffering was imminent, he would be at peace before the end of the
night. When you talk to someone who's lost a loved one, something they
often voice is the regret that they never had a chance to say goodbye, to
mend a fence, or to bring some unfinished things to closure. I feel so
blessed that I was given that chance. Before Jeff lost his ability to
communicate, I held his hand, I kissed him on the side of his stubbly bald
head and I whispered my last offerings of help to him. That it was okay to
let go, he didn't have to keep fighting or worrying about anything. That
his tremendously loving and supportive parents would be OK. That I'd look
after them and everyone else that he cares about. That we'd all look after
each other. I told him he was my brother and that I would die for him a
hundred times to save and protect him from anything that would harm him or
anyone he loves. That I would give anything to take his place, and most of
all to make sure he knew that despite only having 25 years of life in this
world that he had accomplished more in that time than most people could ever
hope to. Everyone that met Jeff was his friend. Jeff didn't know the
meaning of the word 'enemy'. Jeff had inner fears that his life had been in
vain, I did all I could to lay those to rest once and for all in order to
help him find as much peace as he could in those final hours. I told him
how much I loved him and that I'll never stop fighting for him, even when he
can't fight any more.
Jeff's last words to me were "I love you, too", repeated over and over in
between gasps for breath.
And that was all I wanted to say. Ashley and his parents then had their
private time with him. Time to say what they needed to and to find solace.
And then Jeff began to fade. Jeff's body died at 9:40 PM, but his conscious
mind was at rest much earlier. And that was so much for the better. I
can't describe how much he'd been through and what the toll on his body was.
The most telling part is that his spirit was never even scratched. Nothing
could take that away from Jeff, my best friend.
Jeff is survived by many. All of us. We're his legacy, we're the sum of
his life and we should treasure what he gave us and what we have in each
other and those we love. Please don't ever forget that, for his sake.
I love you, Jeff.
Goodnight.
Josh
"He is now at rest, we who are left are the ones to suffer."
This is Jeff's final health update.
At 9:40 PM Central Time, Jeffrey Allen Sample passed away due to
complications stemming from his 2 year fight against Hodgkin's Lymphoma.
Jeff was 25 years old. He died at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston,
Texas. Jeff spent the final days, hours, minutes and seconds of his life
surrounded by people that love him.
There is nothing that I can think, that I can say, or that I can write that
can begin to narrowly contain within a few words the boundless love, respect
and admiration I have for Jeff. Jeff was the closest friend I've ever had
and ever will have. We were the best of friends from the very first time we
met in the ninth grade. Throughout the 12 years since then my love for my
best friend did nothing but grow exponentially. I saw with what respect and
dignity he faced impossible odds. Jeff eventually became my hero, too.
Jeff fought this disease tooth and nail for nearly two years. During that
two years he endured obscene levels of pain for such long periods of time
that none of us can ever begin to understand without having endured them
ourselves. The tumors spread from his lymph nodes, all across his body and
refused to withdraw, despite the broadest varities of treatments prescribed
by some of the finest doctors in the world. The constant barrage of drugs
and chemotherapy eroded Jeff's immune system and left him vulnerable to the
threat of infection. Jeff was fighting fungal and viral infections combined
with the cancer and the plain old wear and tear on his body and mind. He
was fighting a war on three fronts and eventually he had to surrender. It
was his hope and the hope of his doctors that he would be able to return to
Key Largo, so he could spend the remainder of his time with his friends and
family in his own home. But his illnesses accelerated at an incredible
rate, so fast that even though I saw it with my own eyes, I can still hardly
believe it.
Jeff lost the use of his left lung some time ago, the tumors claimed it from
him. But as of this past Tuesday, his right lung was clear and healthy.
Between Tuesday and Friday morning, something just went wrong. Jeff awoke
early Friday morning with breathing difficulties caused by what seemed to be
anxiety attacks. They were brought under control several times, only to be
lost again. Ultimately, Jeff was taken to MD Anderson at 2:30AM on Sunday
when it became clear that his anxiety was getting the best of him. His
pulse oxygen numbers were too low, but quickly came back up once he was
hooked up to a mask in the Emergency Center. As the morning progressed,
however, the numbers began to slide again. X-rays of Jeff's chest revealed
that his once healthy right lung was in serious trouble. What caused his
condition to degrade so rapidly? There are no answers to that question,
just as there are no answers to the madness that is this horrible disease
he's been forced to endure for the final two years of his life.
By noon on Sunday the prognosis had been made by Jeff's doctors: the end of
his suffering was imminent, he would be at peace before the end of the
night. When you talk to someone who's lost a loved one, something they
often voice is the regret that they never had a chance to say goodbye, to
mend a fence, or to bring some unfinished things to closure. I feel so
blessed that I was given that chance. Before Jeff lost his ability to
communicate, I held his hand, I kissed him on the side of his stubbly bald
head and I whispered my last offerings of help to him. That it was okay to
let go, he didn't have to keep fighting or worrying about anything. That
his tremendously loving and supportive parents would be OK. That I'd look
after them and everyone else that he cares about. That we'd all look after
each other. I told him he was my brother and that I would die for him a
hundred times to save and protect him from anything that would harm him or
anyone he loves. That I would give anything to take his place, and most of
all to make sure he knew that despite only having 25 years of life in this
world that he had accomplished more in that time than most people could ever
hope to. Everyone that met Jeff was his friend. Jeff didn't know the
meaning of the word 'enemy'. Jeff had inner fears that his life had been in
vain, I did all I could to lay those to rest once and for all in order to
help him find as much peace as he could in those final hours. I told him
how much I loved him and that I'll never stop fighting for him, even when he
can't fight any more.
Jeff's last words to me were "I love you, too", repeated over and over in
between gasps for breath.
And that was all I wanted to say. Ashley and his parents then had their
private time with him. Time to say what they needed to and to find solace.
And then Jeff began to fade. Jeff's body died at 9:40 PM, but his conscious
mind was at rest much earlier. And that was so much for the better. I
can't describe how much he'd been through and what the toll on his body was.
The most telling part is that his spirit was never even scratched. Nothing
could take that away from Jeff, my best friend.
Jeff is survived by many. All of us. We're his legacy, we're the sum of
his life and we should treasure what he gave us and what we have in each
other and those we love. Please don't ever forget that, for his sake.
I love you, Jeff.
Goodnight.
Josh
