Family, friends, and kind strangers-

My name is Sam Ledzianowski, and as some of you may know, my dad, Ron, was diagnosed with Stage 4 small cell lung cancer with metastases to the liver and bones on March 18th of this year. We went to the ER on March 16th thinking it was a bout of pneumonia and left with the worst-case scenario and a terrifying prognosis.

Small cell lung cancer is one of the most aggressive types of cancer a person can have. It responds well to treatment at first and then sneaks back in quickly and with a vengeance. The median survival rate is 12-18 months after diagnosis, 3-6 months if we didn’t do treatment.

Knowing the fight he was about to endure, I begged him to come live with me so he didn’t have to do it alone. He started the 4 rounds of chemotherapy and immunotherapy immediately and responded very well. The mets to the liver and bones disappeared, and I had false hope he would be a candidate for surgery to remove the mass on his lung. With how extensive and far spread his cancer is, surgery isn’t a viable option, and the standard of care is chemo/immunotherapy/radiation to alleviate symptoms—not to cure the cancer but to extend his life and provide quality of life.

The past 6 months he’s had great scans and not-so-great scans, good days and bad days. Immunotherapy is keeping him alive, and at one point he felt so well he said, “I’m sick of sitting on my ass. I’m going back to work,” and he’s worked full-time the last 3 months on top of infusions and doctor’s appointments, regardless of his kids begging him to slow down and retire.

Last week, we had another not-so-great scan, and the cancer has now spread to his brain. It’s spread back to his liver, and his pancreas has a new lesion. He has 5-6 small tumors all in the balance centers of his brain, throwing his equilibrium off and preventing him from being able to work. Chemotherapy doesn’t cross the blood-brain barrier; it works from the neck down, so next week we start whole brain radiation to help ease symptoms. If we don’t do the radiation, the oncologist estimates 3 months, and roughly 6 months if we complete it.

Which is why I’m here—and he would be so mad at me if he knew I was doing this, so please don’t tell him—I am terrified for what is to come. Nothing about this is treatable; we are simply on borrowed time, and I don’t want him spending whatever time we have left worried about not working and his bills and his mortgages and basic living expenses.

Thanks to good health insurance, we have avoided the crushing million-dollar medical bills (each chemo treatment costs $160,198) (what is wrong with America), but even with insurance, he’s on short-term disability, which is about half his normal income. If you know my dad, you know what a workhorse he is, rarely calling off and working 50-70 hours a week for the last 44 years. At 62 years old, I’d love to see him rest and retire without the fear of penalties or financial strain.

I also fear there will come a time in the not-so-distant future I won’t be able to work as much myself. I’ve been balancing my job while prioritizing him the last 6 months—running errands, being a full time caretaker, managing the phone calls and paperwork, driving him to every appointment, and those appointments are becoming closer and closer together. We’ve had the most wonderful nurses and an outpouring of people offering support and asking what they can do to help, and I never know what to say. The truth is, we’re taking it one day at a time, and the days are getting shorter.

He’s the most stubborn man and would never ask for help, so I’m asking you to help me help him. I’d love to take him on a weekend trip out of town with his kids one more time. I’d love to cover his mortgage for a month or get him a storage unit so we can clean out and sell the other house. I’d love to pay his copays without him having to take out his wallet, or pick up a prescription without him feeling like he needs to pay $35 for something he has no control over. He deserves peace, comfort, and dignity in this fight.

Anything helps—it doesn’t have to be financial. He loves blueberry muffins, cinnamon bread, Milky Ways, and a good steak. If you know and love my dad, give him a call or send him a text, buy him a drink at Daffy’s. He may not get back to you right away, but I promise he reads his messages and loves the words of support or catching up with an old friend.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support, your prayers, and your kindness.

With love and gratitude,

Sam, Lauren, and Andy