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June 17, 2005 was a typical summer afternoon, recalled Mike Porter. He and his wife Jennifer were lounging in the backyard by the pool with their five children when their son, David Nicholas, slipped on the deck and hit his back on the stairs.

Mike ran over and took care of his then three-year-old son, who promptly got up and resumed playing with his siblings. It seemed like your typical minor bruise; nothing to worry about. But a few minutes later, Mike and Jennifer were startled when they heard David’s scream from the bathroom.

There, the couple made a startling discovery: he had blood in his urine. Jennifer immediately called the doctor, who set up a blood test for the next day. When it returned inconclusive, her pediatrician—still convinced it was something minor—scheduled an ultrasound the same day at Clara Maass Hospital in Belleville.

When Jennifer arrived, there were six doctors in the room for what was to be a simple test. After it was completed, she went home and received a call from the physician, who wanted David and his parents in his office at 5 pm. Now she knew something was wrong. The blood that was in David’s urine was not from a simple fall, it was something much more grave: he had a mass on his kidney and needed surgery immediately.

“In six short days,” recalled Jennifer. “My life was turned upside down.”

“You really don’t have a reaction because you have so much to do,” added Mike. “It was around 6 pm and they told us that we had to pick a hospital by 8 pm and pack our bags to go there.”

Mike also had to set up plans for his job at the Allwood Funeral Home, which the Porter clan has owned for three generations. While it was easy for his family to accommodate him during his crisis, he and Jennifer had a bigger problem in their own home: what exactly do you say to your other four kids?

“After the surgery on the 20th, we told our kids that David had to have his kidney removed,” said Jennifer, whose son was diagnosed with Stage III Wilms’ Tumor. “We never said the word cancer through the entire 14 month ordeal, but our older children knew.”

The choice seemed logical, as David had a very long road to recovery ahead of him. They thought it might be hard for their young children to understand.

“After the surgery, they gave us the pathology report. There are two types of Wilms’, encapsulated, and the more dangerous diffused one, which goes through the lymph system. He had the second,” said Mike. “But you wouldn’t have known that. When he was released on the 25th, he got his Big Wheel out right when he got home.”

According to his parents, that’s just an example of David being David. Not even cancer could keep down the kid who loved fast cars, anything green and loud Harley- Davidson motorcycles. Both Mike and Jennifer agree that even while David was going through a six month chemotherapy treatment, visitors would be hard pressed to see ‘Super David’ in a foul mood.

As an example of his spirit, Jennifer recalled how David would call in nurses on the intercom to set them up with a cool blast from a water gun hidden in his bed. “We found a lot of friends along the way,” recalled Jennifer. “In radiation, a nurse named Diane would come in an hour early just for David and prepare his bed for him. And she always brought M&M’s for him.”

“He never complained and never lashed out at anyone,” she added. “The only time he’d get mad is if you stood in front of his TV. He loved watching NASCAR.”

Although he never gave any of the doctors a problem when they tried to treat him, David—or Super Dave as his parents playfully referred to him as—still had questions for them to answer.

Why was he going to the doctors and taking this medicine that made him sick? Was it because he slipped and fell?

“I think he tried to rationalize the whole situation and he thought it was from falling by the pool. He was blaming himself,” recalled Jennifer. “I told him that he was just sick and the doctors had to make him better so that he wouldn’t pee blood anymore.”

“He was just three years old when he was diagnosed,” she continued. “How could you even begin to explain it to him?”

Life goes on…

Indeed, how could you possibly explain it to anyone, let alone your four-year-old son who was suffering from a rare form of cancer? Your child is never supposed to die before you do. But sometimes, life doesn’t go the way it should.

After his chemo treatment ended just before Christmas, the Porters thought they had defeated the cancer. But by January, it had metastized throughout his small body. On Aug. 25, 2006, David Nicholas Porter lost his 14 month battle with Wilms’.

However, during a chat on a recent summer afternoon in their living room, Mike and Jennifer recalled the joy that their Super Dave brought into their family during his four short years.

“He did a lot of living while he was with us,” said Jennifer, recalling how, despite the circumstances, the Porters managed to still function as a whole family.

The parents recalled how David was able to celebrate twins Michael William and Mirada’s birthdays in the intensive care unit with his family, thanks to a friendly doctor who bent the rules. In fact, each member of the family celebrated a birthday in the hospital with Dave.

There was the time in August of 2006, shortly before his passing, that the Porter Clan spent a weekend down the shore at the beach, crabbing and playing mini-golf.

“He just wanted to play mini-golf all day,” laughed Jennifer.

Even though he is no longer physically present, David’s spirit still clearly lives on through his family. In conversation, Jennifer recalled how her son was practically obsessed with the color green. Green ice cream, green sprinkles and everything else.

“They would give crayons and paper to kids, but they never had any green,” she laughed. “The nurses knew he always had them.”

She reminisced how, despite his rapidly declining health, you couldn’t keep David down. Even after rounds of chemotherapy, Super Dave would be on his Big Wheel, doing laps around the driveway, occasionally stopping to vomit.

“I lived through a mom’s nightmare,” said Jennifer. “He did it three times that day before I went hysterical and made him lay down. Still, he wouldn’t let it beat him. He just wanted to play.”

That fun-seeking, carefree spirit that David possessed was the founding principal for David’s Day. The idea originated in the spring of 2006, during the height of his illness. David had several requests of his parents during this time, but there was one that stuck with his parents and inspired them.

“He asked us, ‘When can I have a David’s Day like Mommy and Daddy’s Day?’” recalled Jennifer. “All he wanted was a day that was full of fun, contentment and family. David asked for a Bob the Builder cake, hot dogs, a pinata filled with goodies, lots of games and everything had to be green.”

For the Porters, it was a chance to allow their four year old to be a normal child once again. On July 8 of that year, the Porter Clan celebrated the first David’s Day, with the intention of making it an annual event with David. But even with his passing, the Porters carried on his legacy and established the David Nicholas Foundation.

“I have to start out somewhere. We want to give back to families that went through what we went through, ” said Jennifer. “But eventually, we want it to also go towards research for pediatric cancer.”

On Saturday, July 7 at 11 am, the Foundation will hold a bike rally for David’s Day, in honor of the four year old’s love for Harley’s.

Bikers will meet at the (your mom.com). Costs are $25 for riders, $15 for non-riders or passengers and $10 for children.

Then at 2 pm, participants will be treated to food and beverages at the Porter home. It will be a day of family, friends and fun, just as David would have wanted.
For info on the bike run, call the Porters at (blahblahbla) or email (blahblahblah) Or go online to (aaaaaaa)