Kevin P

Well… only three days until I undergo an esophagectomy. For those who aren’t familiar, an esophagectomy is a major surgical procedure where they will remove part of my esophagus—the muscular tube that carries food and liquid from my throat to my stomach—along with part of my upper stomach and the lymph nodes surrounding the area. It is a very high-risk surgery, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I am scared. There are a lot of unknowns, and knowing that I’ll be in surgery for somewhere between 8–10 hours, depending on whether there are any complications, is a lot to take in. But as scared as I am, I am not giving up. My doctors are confident in performing this surgery, and if all goes as hoped, it could bring me that much closer to remission. That gives me something to hold onto. Something to fight for. I’m trying to stay strong—not just for myself, but for my family, my friends, and everyone who has stood beside me throughout this journey. The truth is, though, sometimes being strong doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid. Sometimes being strong means admitting that you’re terrified and choosing to keep moving forward anyway. So, September 2, 2026, is the day. I’m going into this scared, but I’m also going in ready to fight with everything I have. If you have a spare moment that day, please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. Pray for a successful surgery, for my doctors and nurses, for a smooth recovery, and for the strength to get through whatever comes next. To everyone who has continued to support me, check on me, pray for me, encourage me, and love me through all of this—thank you. You may not realize just how much your words and support have carried me. They give me strength when I need it most and remind me that I have so many reasons to keep fighting. This will probably be my last update for a little while. Once I’m out of the ICU and able to, I’ll let everyone know how I’m doing. Until then, please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I’m scared. I won’t pretend I’m not. But I’m going to fight. ❤️

In March 2026, my life changed in an instant. What I thought was numbness in my right leg that made it difficult to walk turned into a medical emergency. After going to urgent care, I was told I was having a stroke and was rushed to the ER. There, doctors discovered multiple brain tumors. Within days, I underwent brain surgery, and the devastating news followed: the tumors were cancer. Since then, I've endured a craniotomy and brain radiation, and I am still waiting to learn how effective those treatments have been. Doctors have since identified the primary source of the cancer—an aggressive form of esophageal cancer. My journey is far from over. I now face months of chemotherapy, immunotherapy, major surgery, and additional treatments in the fight for my life. As an independent realtor and small business owner, I don't have the safety net of paid leave or disability benefits. Because of my treatments and recovery, I've had to put my career and my business on hold, leaving me with little to no income while my medical expenses continue to grow. Anyone who knows me knows that asking for help is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I've always been the person who works hard, stays independent, and tries to help others whenever I can. But right now, I can't do this alone. The physical pain, emotional uncertainty, and financial burden have been overwhelming. Every day, I'm focused on finding the strength to keep fighting, to keep hoping, and to believe there are brighter days ahead. If you're able to support me—whether through a donation, sharing my story, or simply keeping me in your thoughts and prayers—it would mean more than I can ever express. Every act of kindness helps lift a little of the weight I'm carrying and allows me to focus on what matters most: fighting this cancer and healing. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your compassion, your generosity, and for standing beside me during the most difficult chapter of my life.