Anyone who knows me knows my dad is my best friend. If you’re lucky, you know him too. He loves Survivor, concerts, NASCAR, pizza, and he really knows his way around a car wash.

In April of 2024, just days before his 53rd birthday, he was diagnosed with Stage 3 esophageal cancer. A tumor was found where his esophagus meets his stomach. It’s a silent cancer, and most people don’t know they have it until it has already advanced. He likely had it for at least 10 months before diagnosis. The survival rates are scary, but we stayed hopeful.

He went through six weeks of intense chemo and radiation to shrink the tumor before surgery. Thankfully, the tumor responded well, and we moved forward with an esophagectomy, an extremely invasive and life-changing procedure that removes most of the esophagus and part of the stomach, then rebuilds the digestive tract. We chose Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville for his surgery.

On December 4, 2024, after nearly 10 hours of surgery, the tumor was successfully removed. What should have been a two-week recovery turned into nearly a month due to complications with pain management, pneumonia, blood sugar issues, and tube feeding challenges. The day before Christmas Eve, we were finally discharged and made it home to South Carolina. That experience taught us to cherish the simplest things, like Christmas at home, eating pizza, and mostly sleeping comfortably.

By July 2025, my dad was back at work, feeding tube removed, starting immunotherapy, and adjusting to a new normal with small meals, sleeping upright, and learning how to live without a sphincter. Before his next round of scans, something started to feel off. Headaches were accompanied by chest tightness, and his six-month scans showed the cancer had returned, this time in his lungs and at the base of his skull.

Since then, he has fought hard through multiple treatments, radiation, ER visits, and hospital stays. As we faced his recurrence, I have essentially moved home to support him physically and financially while working remotely and being my dad’s main caretaker. After eight months of doing everything he could, we have now reached the point where hospice care is the next step in his journey.

I’m asking for your thoughts, prayers, and support as my family prepares for this next chapter. Many of you know my mom has been unable to work since her brain injury after giving birth to me. Between medical bills and daily expenses, any support helps us focus on making my dad’s remaining time as comfortable and peaceful as possible, without the added weight of financial stress. If you've taken the time to read his journey, thank you.