It’s not easy to begin telling this story. It has been a journey filled with ups and downs, sacrifices, and difficult decisions. But to truly understand it, we have to go back almost 30 years, when my dad was diagnosed with skin cancer at the age of 32.

It all started with a small lump on his nose and another on his chest, near his nipple. At that time, medicine had not advanced as much, and his treatment was limited to surgery to remove both lesions. But the cancer did not go away. Years later, it returned. However, at that moment, my dad had other priorities—he had started a family with my mom, and at 36, I came into his life.

They were living in Italy, facing the challenges of a foreign country, with increasing expenses and health taking a back seat. On top of that, there was fear: years earlier, he had lost his mother due to medical malpractice, which made him distrust conventional treatments. He opted for lotions, ointments, homeopathy, and other alternative methods.

When things became difficult in Italy, my parents decided to move to Peru. My mom struggled to adjust and returned to Italy, but my dad followed her for my sake, leaving behind his family, friends, and stability.

The cancer continued to progress. Without health insurance and with no stable income, he had to adapt to a new life—new language, new culture, new everything. But if there was one thing he always did, it was protect me. I never knew what was happening with his health. He gave me a childhood without deprivation while working tirelessly to support me and provide me with the best education.

He tried to start his own business to improve our situation, but life was not fair. He built a company with partners who betrayed him, and he lost everything. His health deteriorated, his pain increased, but his bank account did not. Then, I started university, and once again, his well-being was not a priority.

In 2017, tragedy struck our lives again. My mom, who had always prioritized work over her health, suffered a brain aneurysm rupture. We endured four days of uncertainty, fear, and not knowing what would happen. And then, she was gone. My dad was left alone, taking care of the household and paying for my education.

The following year, the cancer in his chest became unbearable. He decided to consult a doctor who recommended a treatment with zinc chloride and an imported cream. It seemed to help—until the pandemic hit in 2020. With closed borders, he could no longer get the cream, and expenses skyrocketed. He lost his business, sold his car, and took out loans just so we could survive. Still, he never let his illness stop me—that year, I graduated.

By 2022, his health could no longer be ignored. He finally told me everything he had been silently enduring. We got him health insurance and started his treatment. In 2023, he began radiotherapy, but the damage was already severe—the lesion in his chest started eating away at his skin, eventually opening a wound.

This year, in 2024, the battle became even more intense. He weakened to the point of being hospitalized for almost two months. His body was fighting not just cancer but also an aggressive bacterial infection. The wound in his chest kept growing, he needed blood transfusions, and anemia was consuming him. His emotional state was devastated.

When he was discharged, he didn’t give up. He went back to work because the treatments had to be paid for. But cancer doesn’t wait. The wound reached the bone, affecting his lungs and his ability to breathe. Now, he depends on me. He wears a VAC device to drain the infection, and every five days, he undergoes surgery to remove dead skin and try to regenerate the tissue. His sternum is exposed, and the next step is a skin graft—if the bone can recover.

Today, it’s just the two of us against cancer. Only my dad and I, facing this battle with no family around. We haven’t returned to Italy in over 20 years, and in a way, our family there has distanced themselves. Everyone has their own life, their own problems, and we only have each other. Fortunately, we are not completely alone—our two dogs are with us every day, giving us strength with their unconditional love, expecting nothing in return.

The fight has been tough, but my dad keeps going. He can’t work, and our savings have been drained by medical expenses. Everything we raise will go directly toward his recovery. We want to do things right, take it one step at a time… but sometimes, strength alone is not enough.

Today, I reach out and ask for help—not just to ease his pain, but to give him the chance to keep moving forward. His life and mine have never been easy, but I believe that God gives us these challenges because we can overcome them. Still, if there is a way to lighten this burden and give him the peace he deserves, it would mean the world to us.

Thank you for reading our story.

Thank you for being part of this fight.

❤️‍❤️‍