Donation protected
Nine months ago, my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Doctors acted quickly by removing one of his kidneys. The surgery was an act of hope. Hope that my dad could buy more time. But this hope would only be a dim light as follow-up appointments would show, time after time, that the cancer was spreading to his hip, his lungs, his skull and his brain.
I have always known my dad to live his life full of vigor, but knowing that he was slowly dying, he managed to muster more strength and energy than I will ever know. After his first diagnosis, my dad would always say that he was living on borrowed time. He would reflect on his life and say that he lived a good life. Even though he seemed to be embracing his fate, he never slowed down.
During a time when most of us would consider wallowing in grief, my dad was reinvigorated. He got a new job that fulfilled his passion of working in management with a team of people. He poured all his wafting energy into others. He made extra time for his friends and family. We wouldn’t know until later how sick my dad was. How much he hurt. How much he just wanted to sleep, but that he wanted to be present with his family more.
It wasn’t until early June that my dad openly acknowledged to us the pain he was living with. During a scheduled visit with his oncologist, his doctor began with good news: the tumor on my dad’s skull was shrinking, but there was a fever. The doctor immediately sent my dad to urgent care. That night my dad was hospitalized with pneumonia followed by sepsis. Sitting by my dad’s side, the facade of strength had collapsed and revealed the true pain, fear, and agony that my dad had been living with.
For months my dad had been suffering from constant headaches and innumerous pains related to the cancer consuming his body. But he never complained. He never answered, “how are you feeling today?” with a negative response. He fooled me. He fooled us all. Words can’t explain the crushing terror of watching my dad, our Superman, crumble and waste slowly away.
Since June 3rd, my dad has been in and out of the hospital. He would be home for a day or two, sometimes only a few hours before his pain became too unbearable. It would soon be disclosed that the cancer is in my dad’s bones. Every move, no matter how small, is excruciating.
I had many heart-to-heart conversations with my dad over the past few months. One time he had shared with me that he had denied various treatment options presented by his doctors. His reason? Cost. He didn’t want to burden his family with any “unnecessary” financial strains. He knew the cancer would win. In one of the last fully coherent conversations I will ever have with my dad, I discover he had once again put the lives of others before his own.
I was angry with my dad for denying treatments, but I was being selfish. I wanted more time with him. I want more time with him. But there is no more time.
My dad will be leaving the body I have known and loved all my life. His time here is ending. He will be gone from this earth forever, leaving behind my mom, his high school sweetheart; his four devoted children and their significant others; five grandchildren; brothers and sisters; and many, many friends.
I post this request tonight humbly asking for any donation to help alleviate the extra strain of costs that unfairly accompany death. All donations will be used to pay outstanding medical bills and will be used to carry out my dad’s wishes for his funeral services. I will be responsible for the appropriate usage of all donations. In the event that donations exceed the aforementioned needs, all proceeds will go towards settling my dad’s estate.
Thank you for the love and support that you have shown us. The family is comforted in the knowledge that my dad’s love, compassion, friendship and laughter has impacted so many people’s lives. He is truly one of a kind and will forever be my daughter’s grandpa, my father, and my best friend. I will miss him dearly.
Thank you.
I have always known my dad to live his life full of vigor, but knowing that he was slowly dying, he managed to muster more strength and energy than I will ever know. After his first diagnosis, my dad would always say that he was living on borrowed time. He would reflect on his life and say that he lived a good life. Even though he seemed to be embracing his fate, he never slowed down.
During a time when most of us would consider wallowing in grief, my dad was reinvigorated. He got a new job that fulfilled his passion of working in management with a team of people. He poured all his wafting energy into others. He made extra time for his friends and family. We wouldn’t know until later how sick my dad was. How much he hurt. How much he just wanted to sleep, but that he wanted to be present with his family more.
It wasn’t until early June that my dad openly acknowledged to us the pain he was living with. During a scheduled visit with his oncologist, his doctor began with good news: the tumor on my dad’s skull was shrinking, but there was a fever. The doctor immediately sent my dad to urgent care. That night my dad was hospitalized with pneumonia followed by sepsis. Sitting by my dad’s side, the facade of strength had collapsed and revealed the true pain, fear, and agony that my dad had been living with.
For months my dad had been suffering from constant headaches and innumerous pains related to the cancer consuming his body. But he never complained. He never answered, “how are you feeling today?” with a negative response. He fooled me. He fooled us all. Words can’t explain the crushing terror of watching my dad, our Superman, crumble and waste slowly away.
Since June 3rd, my dad has been in and out of the hospital. He would be home for a day or two, sometimes only a few hours before his pain became too unbearable. It would soon be disclosed that the cancer is in my dad’s bones. Every move, no matter how small, is excruciating.
I had many heart-to-heart conversations with my dad over the past few months. One time he had shared with me that he had denied various treatment options presented by his doctors. His reason? Cost. He didn’t want to burden his family with any “unnecessary” financial strains. He knew the cancer would win. In one of the last fully coherent conversations I will ever have with my dad, I discover he had once again put the lives of others before his own.
I was angry with my dad for denying treatments, but I was being selfish. I wanted more time with him. I want more time with him. But there is no more time.
My dad will be leaving the body I have known and loved all my life. His time here is ending. He will be gone from this earth forever, leaving behind my mom, his high school sweetheart; his four devoted children and their significant others; five grandchildren; brothers and sisters; and many, many friends.
I post this request tonight humbly asking for any donation to help alleviate the extra strain of costs that unfairly accompany death. All donations will be used to pay outstanding medical bills and will be used to carry out my dad’s wishes for his funeral services. I will be responsible for the appropriate usage of all donations. In the event that donations exceed the aforementioned needs, all proceeds will go towards settling my dad’s estate.
Thank you for the love and support that you have shown us. The family is comforted in the knowledge that my dad’s love, compassion, friendship and laughter has impacted so many people’s lives. He is truly one of a kind and will forever be my daughter’s grandpa, my father, and my best friend. I will miss him dearly.
Thank you.
Organizer
Anthony Salinas
Organizer
Riverside, CA