JoshFinleyFuneralExpenses

Help Us Lay Josh to Rest
Four years ago, our lives changed forever when my husband, Josh, was suddenly fired from his job after being accused of slurring his speech and drinking at work. We knew something wasn’t right. That same day, we went to the doctor—and learned Josh had suffered multiple strokes.
Those strokes affected his cognitive abilities, but at the time, he still had his mobility. Further testing revealed the cause: his blood pressure medication had not been properly managed. While seeking answers, we also had a persistent wound on his tailbone examined. That led us through countless specialists—dermatology, wound care, infectious disease, and oncology—until a biopsy confirmed cancer.
For two years, Josh fought with everything he had. He endured chemotherapy and 25 rounds of radiation. Sadly, none of it stopped the cancer. The chemotherapy severely damaged his kidneys, sending him from stage 2 kidney disease to stage 5 renal failure. One kidney failed completely, and Josh began dialysis three days a week.
We held on to one hope: if we could get the cancer under control, he might become eligible for a kidney transplant.
Further surgery revealed an anal fistula that had tracked through his pelvic area and into his colon. On October 1st, 2024—my birthday—Josh bravely had his colon removed and began living with an ostomy. For a while, things improved. We spent a beautiful summer riding scooters together on the trails around Cape and Jackson. For the first time in a long time, we felt hope.
Then everything changed.
Josh grew weaker, slept most of the day, and lost his energy. Scans revealed a massive pocket of infection deep in his pelvic cavity. At first, we were hopeful it wasn’t the cancer returning, but this infection was causing new fistulas and internal damage. Surgeons attempted to remove it, first on Halloween, then again with a more aggressive surgery that left a large open wound and required weeks of draining.
I became his full-time caregiver—changing his wounds, bathing him in bed, caring for him around the clock—while still working 45 hours a week and driving back and forth to Kentucky. As the pain grew worse, Josh began telling me he didn’t want to continue dialysis. The physical strain of getting dressed, traveling, and climbing three flights of stairs left him completely exhausted and in agony. I begged him to keep fighting. I promised we would find a way. But his pain was too great.
Now, Josh is on hospice. We have been told he has only hours left. He is nonverbal, but I believe he can still hear me. He is comfortable and surrounded by love.
Josh had no life insurance. In a moment of delirium during his illness, he took my car and wrecked it—uninsured—leaving us without transportation. I am selling everything I can, but it is not enough. I am asking for help to lay my husband to rest and begin putting the broken pieces of our lives back together.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has supported us—especially my Taco Bell family,  You have shown me love, strength, and comfort when I had nowhere else to turn.
Any donation, share, or prayer means more than words can say. Thank you for helping us honor Josh.