Dave Syria died May 2nd

M

Mark Griffin

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I hate to be the one that brings bad news but I feel everyone should know. Mr. Ingrate will be missed. I did not know him extremely well but he really loved pool and seemed to be a real OK guy.

Mark Griffin


Hello,
I'm so sad to send you this, but I thought you should know that Dave died Monday night. The cancer spread to his liver and his lungs. Please pass this on to other pool players who knew Dave. I know that he had several friends on the Cue & Chalk Board, but don't know how to access it.
Sincerely,
Joanne





David Leo Syrja

October 17, 1942 – May 2, 2005

Dave was born in Port Arthur, Ont. and the family moved west 3 years later, so Dave grew up in Jasper, AB. After 4 good years from his initial diagnosis, colon cancer took its toll and we must say ‘so long’ to a loving and generous-spirited man who enjoyed life to the fullest.

Dave will be deeply missed by his beloved wife, Joanne and his loving family: parents, Leo and Margaret Syrja of Jasper; daughters Daphne and Patti (Greg) Syrja; step-sons Douglas (Colleen) and Derek Schneider; grandchildren Robin (James) Syrja, Danny, and Tara Schneider; sister, Diane (Blair) Beirnes, brothers: Wayne, Ray (Marsha), and Leonard (Diane); nephews, nieces, and cousins (Karen and Peter DeLisle and family). His treasured friends will miss him, too.

During a productive career in Edmonton and later in Los Angeles, Dave used his knowledge as a CMA to develop municipal accounting software for many Canadian cities, as well as payroll and production accounting software for the movie industry. In retirement, Dave wrote the Web-based Pool Tournament Manager/Director and the Hockey Draft Director. His passions were creating new software programs, playing pool, and loving his wife, Joanne – not necessarily in that order. The Vancouver Island Pool League has lost one of their favorites and the game has lost a champion.

If you’d like to give something in memory of Dave, donations supporting Victoria Hospice and Palliative Care Foundation would be appreciated. They are at 1952 Bay St., Richmond Pavilion, Victoria, BC V8R 1J8 or donate online at www.victoriahospice.com. The work they do every day is so essential and we thank them with all our hearts. Many thanks also to Dr. Roland Link and the Downtown Medical Center.

"You will always be in my heart, Dave.

Thanks for loving me so well for the past 16 years." Joanne
 
Dave was one of the best guys I got to meet through the internet. He will be missed dearly. He fought his battle with courage and is now in a better place. I tip my hat and give a tap-tap to Mr. Ingrate. We will miss you Dave.
 
This is so sad to hear. I've been thinking of him lately after his post during the SBE when I couldn't get to the Internet.

He was the first CCB poster I met - at Las Vegas in 1998.

I will miss his humor and wit.

Barbara
 
I am extremely saddened by this news. Dave had great love for the game and I am pleased to have known him.

Eydie
 
My condolences to his family and beloved wife. May G*d be with you. Dave was a class-act on this forum with a kind word in each post. His final post was one I will never forget and showed courage that will be left unmatched. He found us important and for that, we are forever blessed.
 
Thanks for letting us know, he will be missed. He wrote a thread on the Billiards Digest Chalkboard entitled "checking out" - he was brave and it was very sad.

Chris
 
Mark,

Is there any way cards could get to Joanne from this hospice? I have had a few requests, plus my own.

Barbara
 
I never met or spoke with Dave in real life or through a forum but I feel saddened by this news. I went to the CCB forum and looked up the "Checking Out" message that TATE referenced and it made me even more sad. I checked out his profile and it linked to his web site "syrja.net". I suggest people check out his site because it is very touching.

God Bless you Dave on your new journey
 
I was fortunate to meet Dave during the U.S. Open of '03 and what fun we had! I remember being in one of the Holiday Inn's ballrooms where they had cots set up for those that lived in the area and had no electricity or water in their homes due to Hurrican Isabel, when I turn around and who is standing behind me but Dave himself in what I called his Crocodile Dundee hat. He was standing there with his wife, Joanne, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "You must be Wendy aka 9 Ball Girl." "In the flesh baby!" was my response and it just kept going on from there.

Dave created the software that we now use religiously in our annual CCB tourney that we hold in Virginia. He had flown in from Canada to VA in '03 to meet all of us as we always do each year at the Open, and to be present in our tourney. He had taken the time to create name tags for us and work his software to accomodate our unique format.

Dave was an extremely generous man. He will be greatly missed. God bless.
 
When my time comes, I hope, though truly doubt, that I'll conduct myself with as much courage and dignity as Dave. Rest in peace, Dave, you'll be missed.
 
Dave always had a way of finding humor in the worst of situations. He had been through many battles in his life, and this was not his first battle with cancer. In 2001, he posted this on his web site and it still made me laugh just as hard today. I'm pretty sure he's up there making somebody smile with his unique sense of humor.

Chemotheraphy (November 2001)

After the minor annoyance of having a cardiac stent reopened with an angioplasty and a cutting balloon, I met with my oncologist to discuss chemotherapy options for my bowel resection. The surgeon had cut out 8 inches of my colon along with surrounding tissue and lymph nodes. The tumor was about the size of a snooker ball. The pathology report showed no cancer in the 7 lymph nodes they removed, but there was evidence of cancer cells in the tissue outside the colon. The oncologist felt that chemotherapy was up to me since there was an excellent chance that all the cancer had been removed by the operation. He said it wouldn't hurt to have the chemo and side effects for the drugs I would take are quite mild.

So I started treatment October 8th. I received injections from Monday to Friday and felt a little fatigue, but nothing else of consequence. Saturday Joanne and I went to see Bandits (bad movie) and then out for Chinese food. The Hot Braised Shrimp made me realize my mouth seemed a little tender. Sunday morning my tongue felt swollen and sore. When I tried to swallow everything burned going down. By Monday, I was in a lot of pain and couldn't swallow anything and we met with the oncologist. He gave me the standard Mucositis Oncology mixture and said I should be better in 2 to 4 days.

I spent the week curled up in a fetal position slurping the oncologist mixture. I saw the oncologist on Friday and he immediately admitted me to the hospital. By this time I had shaved off my beard (very gingerly) because I had running sores on my face. I had a rash all over my body and the inside of my mouth was one raw ulcer that extended down my throat. I was seriously dehydrated and was put on IV's for fluids, antibiotics, and nutrition.

My communication consisted of grunting once for yes and twice for no. The oncologist said in 30 years of practice he had never seen such a reaction to the chemo drug 5FU (interesting name). I spent 12 days in the hospital never getting more than 2 hours sleep at a stretch. The highlights of my day were:

(1) a visit from my wife whom I describe as part Mother Theresa and part Xena, Warrior Princess when it comes to managing my health care.

(2) reading my Patrick McMannus novel, "A fine and pleasant misery."

(3) morphine.

It was bad enough being interrupted all the time for vital signs, blood tests, injections, etc. You would think they could have organized at least one procedure the same time as another. In the wee small hours of the morning, unseen gnomes would open my door, whose hinges hadn't been oiled since the civil war, to make rustling noises in my bathroom and then depart unseen to the netherworld from where they came.

It was difficult to read Pat McMannus, my favorite humorist. Nurses would find me laughing maniacally, tears streaming down my face, curled up in a fetal position. They would immediately administer morphine assuming I was in serious pain.

Ah, the morphine. My Dad and brother Ray cannot tolerate morphine. I, on the other hand think it is a most excellent drug. It numbs the pain and gives you the most amazing and complicated dreams even when you are fully awake. I remember conducting a full symphony with clones of myself playing all the musical instruments. I would open my eyes, the symphony would immediately stop, and I would be completely lucid knowing I was in my hospital room. I only had to close my eyes for the symphony continue without missing a beat.

And then came the galloping diarrhea. My IV pole had two dispensing machines and at least 900 pounds of bags and bottles on the top end. The wheels came from a discarded supermarket cart. It was not a pretty sight to see me going at full speed to the bathroom, the IV pole wobbling all over the place, and then being whipped backwards when I hit the end of the power cables. I finally got tired of trying to push it and started carrying it over my shoulder when it had to be moved.

All good things come to an end. The minute I got down a glass of apple juice and a bowl of Jell-O, I was discharged. I guess 12 days is the maximum stay. My oncologist thinks it was the threat of a GI tube down my throat that caused me to turn the corner.

I'm at home, ate wieners and beans and mashed potatoes (a childhood favorite) and had my first good nights sleep.

(c) Copyright 2001, David L. Syrja, All Rights Reserved.
 
My prayers and condolences go out to Dave and his family in these tough times. I've been fighting the same battle as Dave was for two years now.
I never had the chance to meet Dave but everybody I talked to that did get the chance to meet him told me he was a standout guy and a total class act all the way. Thanks for the post Blackjack and Dave is right when he says morphine is great, there is no greater time-killer in the world than a six minute morphine drop.
 
Blackjack said:
Dave always had a way of finding humor in the worst of situations. He had been through many battles in his life, and this was not his first battle with cancer. In 2001, he posted this on his web site and it still made me laugh just as hard today. I'm pretty sure he's up there making somebody smile with his unique sense of humor.

Chemotheraphy (November 2001)

After the minor annoyance of having a cardiac stent reopened with an angioplasty and a cutting balloon, I met with my oncologist to discuss chemotherapy options for my bowel resection. The surgeon had cut out 8 inches of my colon along with surrounding tissue and lymph nodes. The tumor was about the size of a snooker ball. The pathology report showed no cancer in the 7 lymph nodes they removed, but there was evidence of cancer cells in the tissue outside the colon. The oncologist felt that chemotherapy was up to me since there was an excellent chance that all the cancer had been removed by the operation. He said it wouldn't hurt to have the chemo and side effects for the drugs I would take are quite mild.

So I started treatment October 8th. I received injections from Monday to Friday and felt a little fatigue, but nothing else of consequence. Saturday Joanne and I went to see Bandits (bad movie) and then out for Chinese food. The Hot Braised Shrimp made me realize my mouth seemed a little tender. Sunday morning my tongue felt swollen and sore. When I tried to swallow everything burned going down. By Monday, I was in a lot of pain and couldn't swallow anything and we met with the oncologist. He gave me the standard Mucositis Oncology mixture and said I should be better in 2 to 4 days.

I spent the week curled up in a fetal position slurping the oncologist mixture. I saw the oncologist on Friday and he immediately admitted me to the hospital. By this time I had shaved off my beard (very gingerly) because I had running sores on my face. I had a rash all over my body and the inside of my mouth was one raw ulcer that extended down my throat. I was seriously dehydrated and was put on IV's for fluids, antibiotics, and nutrition.

My communication consisted of grunting once for yes and twice for no. The oncologist said in 30 years of practice he had never seen such a reaction to the chemo drug 5FU (interesting name). I spent 12 days in the hospital never getting more than 2 hours sleep at a stretch. The highlights of my day were:

(1) a visit from my wife whom I describe as part Mother Theresa and part Xena, Warrior Princess when it comes to managing my health care.

(2) reading my Patrick McMannus novel, "A fine and pleasant misery."

(3) morphine.

It was bad enough being interrupted all the time for vital signs, blood tests, injections, etc. You would think they could have organized at least one procedure the same time as another. In the wee small hours of the morning, unseen gnomes would open my door, whose hinges hadn't been oiled since the civil war, to make rustling noises in my bathroom and then depart unseen to the netherworld from where they came.

It was difficult to read Pat McMannus, my favorite humorist. Nurses would find me laughing maniacally, tears streaming down my face, curled up in a fetal position. They would immediately administer morphine assuming I was in serious pain.

Ah, the morphine. My Dad and brother Ray cannot tolerate morphine. I, on the other hand think it is a most excellent drug. It numbs the pain and gives you the most amazing and complicated dreams even when you are fully awake. I remember conducting a full symphony with clones of myself playing all the musical instruments. I would open my eyes, the symphony would immediately stop, and I would be completely lucid knowing I was in my hospital room. I only had to close my eyes for the symphony continue without missing a beat.

And then came the galloping diarrhea. My IV pole had two dispensing machines and at least 900 pounds of bags and bottles on the top end. The wheels came from a discarded supermarket cart. It was not a pretty sight to see me going at full speed to the bathroom, the IV pole wobbling all over the place, and then being whipped backwards when I hit the end of the power cables. I finally got tired of trying to push it and started carrying it over my shoulder when it had to be moved.

All good things come to an end. The minute I got down a glass of apple juice and a bowl of Jell-O, I was discharged. I guess 12 days is the maximum stay. My oncologist thinks it was the threat of a GI tube down my throat that caused me to turn the corner.

I'm at home, ate wieners and beans and mashed potatoes (a childhood favorite) and had my first good nights sleep.

(c) Copyright 2001, David L. Syrja, All Rights Reserved.
Click to expand...


WOW, I didnt know him but may he rest in peace. Makes me thankfull that I live pain free, and that im healthy.

Mack
 
Mark Griffin said:
I did not know him extremely well but he really loved pool and seemed to be a real OK guy.
Click to expand...
I can't say I knew Dave well either, but myself and a lot of others from the CCB forum spent 5 days with him during the 2003 U.S. Open. There was a little hurricane floating around too, so, without electricity for the convention center, we got to spend a lot of time together. My wife and I also shared some meals with Dave and his wife Joanne.
From this experience, I can tell you that Dave was more than an "OK guy". He was an extremely nice man and a good friend to pool players everywhere.
Dave will be missed by us all.

Deepest condolences to Joanne and the rest of Dave's family.
 
Wow, sad news. I met DAve and Joanne at the BCA Open in 03. Wonderful couple. Dave was a guy that always looked for the lighter, slightly sarcastic side of life. A funny and fun guy to be around and sadly missed.

One good thing about these forums. They are like a living legacy for friends that move on. Miss ya, Dave. Godspeed.


Eric
 
Last edited:
Mark Griffin said:
I hate to be the one that brings bad news but I feel everyone should know. Mr. Ingrate will be missed. I did not know him extremely well but he really loved pool and seemed to be a real OK guy.

Mark Griffin
Click to expand...

Dave Syrja was one of the first "internet" pool kooks (an affectionate term I use to describe all my friends that LOVE pool) that I have had the pleasure of meeting, and working with. My time with Dave and his wonderful wife, Joanne, when they lived in S. CA, was a great experience, and I'll always treasure their friendship. Dave loved pool so much, and gave SO much back to the sport! Several times I watched him playing in the BCA Nationals in Vegas, over the past 5 years. Dave was never one to complain about anything...pretty amazing, given his eventual lot in life! He will be missed by us all! God Bless you Dave, and best wishes to Joanne!

Scott Lee
www.poolknowledge.com
 
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