EggersStrongA Family. A Fight. A Community That Refuses to Break.

Mar 1

December 29th, 2025.Penny and I were at paint class. Brushes out. Music playing. Laughing about something completely insignificant.

Just a couple hours later, Chance was being airlifted to Seattle. That was the dividing line. Life before that call. Life after it. There is no rewind button when you hear the words “airlift” and “ICU.” Everything changed in a single breath. Sixty-two Days and Counting.

As I’m writing this, they are more than two months into hospital corridors, ICU monitors, surgical consults, and waiting rooms that stretch time into something unrecognizable.

I cannot tell you:

∙ How many operations he’s had since he’s been there.

∙ How many procedures.

∙ How many scopes

∙ How many pints of blood he’s received

Because it’s been THAT many.

This isn’t one issue neatly resolved. It’s been complication layered onto complication. Just when something stabilizes, another problem demands attention.

There is still no confirmed discharge date. This is not a short hospital stay. This is survival.

The Internal Hematoma

An internal hematoma developed inside his abdomen, creating severe pressure. So much pressure that his stomach essentially stopped functioning. Let that sink in. The organ responsible for nourishment — offline.

Multiple abdominal drains were placed to relieve the compression. One has been removed. Then another. At the last update, two remain. In ICU world, removing a drain feels monumental.

The Nutrition Battle

He was placed on IV nutrition to keep him sustained. It was critical. But it began impacting his liver function. So the plan shifted — again.

They rerouted feeding directly into the small intestine, bypassing the stomach altogether. The nasal feeding tube was removed. His digestive system is showing movement. And yes — that matters more than most people realize. When you’re living inside this kind of uncertainty, basic function feels like progress.

Liver Complications

Then came rising liver numbers.

Possible bile buildup.

Potential obstruction.

Maybe gallstones.

An ERCP (whatever TF that is) was attempted to access the bile ducts — they couldn’t reach what they needed. They will go back in on Monday.

A pancreatic duct stent was placed to prevent additional damage. He is jaundiced.

Nothing about this journey has been linear.

The Pain

He continues to experience significant pain which has been very hard to watch for his parents. Medication helps manage it — but those same medications can slow the internal systems they’re trying to restart. So it becomes a constant balancing act.

Relief without regression.

Forward movement without triggering new setbacks.

There’s no autopilot here.

And At the Center of It All — Chance

Behind the charts, the tubes, the lab numbers, and the medical terminology — there is a young man enduring more than most people will ever face. No family should have to walk through something like this.

∙ It can dismantle you emotionally.

∙ Wear you down physically.

∙ Crush you financially.

∙ And absolutely no human being should have to withstand this level of pain.

Procedure after procedure.

Intervention after intervention.

Relentless physical strain that doesn’t pause.

And he keeps showing up for it. He doesn’t collapse. He doesn’t surrender. He doesn’t tap out.

Recently, after spending a day at WSU Veterinary Teaching Hospital with Harlie for radiation (she handled it like a champ and continues healing beautifully), I came home and my phone buzzed. Jim. I grabbed my headphones. Then Chance appeared on FaceTime. I saw him — and the emotion hit instantly. He’s here. He physically lifted ice chips to his mouth during that call. Not describing it. Doing it. That moment mattered.

He is a rockstar. Not flashy. Not loud. The kind built from grit. The kind forged under pressure. No one should have to prove they are that strong. But he is.

Jim. Penny. The Brothers.

Jim remains steady — quiet strength.

Penny is fierce in a way only a mother in crisis can be.

Chance’s two brothers are rotating in and out standing beside him, navigating something no sibling should ever have to witness.

They are exhausted.

Mentally taxed.

Physically drained.

Carrying weight that reshapes you. And every single morning, it starts overl.

The Financial & Emotional Weight

Extended ICU care is NOT minor.

Travel.

Missed work.

Daily life expenses.

Ongoing procedures.

The impact multiplies quickly. Mentally. Physically. Financially. This kind of storm can level a family. Yet they remain standing. And that is not something to take lightly.

The Eggers Army 💚

And then there’s you.

Some of you have known this family for decades.

Some of you saw the need and stepped forward anyway.

Contributions. EggersStrong sweatshirt purchases.

Messages.

Prayers.

Healing energy.

Sharing links again and again.

Every action helps carry this load. You are easing pressure. You are creating breathing room. You are part of the support system holding them upright.And that matters. 🙏

If You Want to Help

The need is still significant. There is no clean timeline.

If you feel called to step in:

💚 Donate directly: 👇🏻 Click the button 💚

EggerStrong

💚 Purchase EggersStrong sweatshirts & tees (All proceeds go directly to the family) https://wittyrevolt.com/eggers

💚 Share the links. Visibility keeps momentum alive. 📲

Where Things Stand Right Now

Still navigating.

Still adapting.

Still believing.

Some days knock the wind out of you.

Some days offer genuine encouragement.

We measure progress differently now — fewer drains, improved labs, moments of strength on a screen. That’s the terrain. And this story is not finished. 💚

P.S. From Me. Just Me.

I need to make something crystal clear.

Yes — I met the Eggers because of dogs. Moxie and Tula. River and Tucker. Puppy play dates that turned into real-life friendship a few years ago.

But what grew out of that? Loyalty. The real kind.

And before anyone even lets the word “handout” roll across their tongue, let me remind you what this family has done for me.

✨ They remodeled my craft room.
✨ Fixed my car.
✨ Towed my car.
✨ Drove a spare set of keys out to our campsite when we locked ourselves out like rookies.

✨ They’ve hosted puppy chaos.

✨ We’ve gone to painting nights.

✨ Crafted at home.

✨ Laughed until we cried.

✨ Screamed 80s rock at the top of our lungs like we were front row at a stadium show.

✨ Card games, Christmas Eve, Thanksgiving, virtual reality, dinner and the list goes on and on and on.

These people would give you the shirt off their back without hesitation.

So no. This isn’t charity.

This is reciprocity.
This is loyalty.
This is “you showed up for me, now I’m showing up for you.”

And here’s another truth: you can have a decent home, stable income, do everything right — and one catastrophic medical crisis can threaten to wipe it out. ICU doesn’t pause the mortgage. Insurance doesn’t magically erase every cost. Life keeps charging.

That’s why it takes an army.

Not because they’re irresponsible.
Because they’re loved.