Professor David Oliver at the University of Missouri had one last lesson to teach his students: how to live.
That’s the premise behind his battle with cancer and the focus of his vlog, which has garnered national attention for his poignant story. It all started with a lump at the back of his neck and a doctor’s diagnosis which confirmed the worst: Oliver had a form of upper throat cancer called nasal pharyngeal carcinoma and it had spread to his lymph nodes and bones.
His cancer was considered treatable but not curable, and Oliver, who spent a career teaching medical students and hospital workers how to care for dying patients, decided to undertake a big mission: documenting his treatment in a vlog project and promoting public conversation on medicine and mortality.
“If there was ever a time to be a good teacher, this is it,” he said. “I’ve got a chance.”
The 69-year-old former health care executive struggled at first to absorb his diagnosis in September. His initial video which broke the news to colleagues and students, was meant to “put them at ease when they saw me. I’m still David,” he said. “I might have five years. I might have six months. But I want you to be comfortable.”
After his family distributed the first diary entry, his videos started to draw a following. He used his videos to lend advice to both those coping with cancer battles and those who treat the diagnosed with humor and real life lessons. A die-hard Missouri Tigers fan, Oliver made sure to highlight the two “puke buckets” he planned to obtain for chemotherapy and radiation treatments with the logos of school rivals: the Kansas Jayhawks and Oklahoma Sooner. Beyond the humor, Oliver realized his illness provided a chance to help prepare patients and their loved ones, to trade whispers for matter-of-fact observations, to push the conversation from the shadows into the virtual public square.
“I’m not intimidated by physicians. I realize they are people like everybody else,” he said. “They make mistakes like everybody else … This is my opportunity to talk about these flaws and disappointments.”
As the disease lingers, he and his wife of 16 years, Debra Parker Oliver, have started plans for his memorial service. “Maybe he’s not afraid to die, but he’s afraid of dying,” his wife, an associate professor and former hospice worker, said. “The idea of this man being confined to a bed, maybe not being able to speak, is much more scary than what you are willing to admit.”
On a recent visit to the Ellis Fischel Cancer Center, the couple received some encouraging news: a scan showed no visible lesions, meaning all were less than 1 centimeter in length. He will return later this month for two final rounds of chemotherapy followed by three months of freedom from medical procedures before getting another scan. Best of all, the good news buys him time.
No one knows how much time remains. If it’s more than a year, he added, “we can produce a lot more videos.”