The day before Thanksgiving 2016, my family heard news that no one should ever have to hear.
I remember my dad telling me to sit down. He didn't want to tell me over the phone but my gut twisted and I forced it out of him. Sitting on a gritty curb, my heart racing, palms sweating, my dad told me what my gut already knew. Stage 3 Adenocarinoma, Colorectal Cancer. The silent killer it's called. That's because you don't know anything is wrong until its in advanced stages. We got lucky that my dad fell from the ladder when he did. The symptoms only showed up because of that.
Treatments were to start within a couple of weeks of the diagnosis, as soon as the doctors could agree on a plan of action on how to treat my dad.
That's the worst Thanksgiving we've ever experienced. There's no way to explain the acute fear you get thinking this might be the last Thanksgiving you ever get with him again. All the terrifying thoughts that race through your head, will he ever get to meet his grandchildren when they come into this word?
We've made it through the last few months. Radiation, Chemotherapy, Surgery. Now we are looking ahead. Daddio is currently on his post-surgery intravenous and oral Chemotherapy and it's more intense than the first round because of the higher dose. We are finding out that Daddio does not have the same stamina or strength and the side effects of the chemo are confining him to limited activity. He can't bring down a hammer without it reverberating painfully up his arm. Normal work activities are exhausting. Just being in the sun for 20 minutes can take the toll of a full 8 hr workday.
This is my dad's reality at least for the remaining cycles of treatment. In truth, it's likely to be his reality for the rest of his (God willing long) life. We've done everything the doctors have recommended. Now, in the pursuit of longevity, we are seeking a regimen not limited by the government's restrictions.
Thank you for reading our story up to this point. Your help is incredibly appreciated if you would like to be a part of our story. My dad is used to helping everyone and bringing the family along for the ride. It's a very strange feeling to ask for help. Nothing is expected but absolutely everything is appreciated, even if you can only share this page.