My Story
No one expects cancer to affect their family. One day, everyone’s fine. The next, someone you love has cancer.
During the summer of 2021, my dad had expressed concern that something was “off.” My otherwise healthy dad was getting tired going up the stairs. Normal activities that he’d always done were suddenly exhausting him. Plus, he would often get winded or feel short of breath just going up the stairs. After a while, he went to his doctor for blood work. For whatever reason, they didn’t check his iron levels, typically, a routine part of blood testing. However, this “oversight” turned out to be one of our greatest blessings: If they had tested his iron, they would have seen that his levels were low. Low iron often results in lethargy and shortness of breath. So, the doctor would have prescribed him iron, and off we would have gone, believing we’d found the issue, when it was really something else. Who knows how long we would have gone without discovering the real problem? Everything happens for a reason, right?
Once his bloodwork came back normal, my parents started getting everything checked out. His tests were all coming back normal—on one hand, wonderful, but on the other, puzzling. Why was there no answer?
One of the last tests was basically a swallowing test. The results showed something abnormal, so they scheduled an endoscopy. That’s when they found it—a 10 centimeter mass in his esophagus, right where the esophagus enters the stomach.
Our Cancer Journey
I was home in Florida when I got the news about the mass. I remember feeling nervous, but even then, my first anxiety-filled thoughts didn’t lead me to think cancer. I was naïve and believed that cancer would never affect my family. Nope, that was not in the plans. It wasn’t for at least a day that I allowed myself to think that cancer could be a reality.
Nothing was confirmed yet, and to hear this kind of news, my family all needed to be together. Fortunately, I had already purchased a plane ticket home to Texas to see my parents for the Fourth of July, and my sister, niece, and nephew would all be home as well. Somehow, we’d all be together in Texas. Things happen for a reason, right? We were together in my parent’s living room when we got the call confirming our fears—the mass was malignant. My dad had esophageal cancer.
We began our cancer journey.
Do yourself a favor; don’t google “cancer of the esophagus.” I did, and it took me 10 seconds to freeze, close my laptop, and start praying.
My dad’s treatment plan consisted of chemotherapy once a week for 5 weeks with radiation 5 days a week for those same 5 weeks. The goal was to shrink the tumor as much as possible before having surgery which was scheduled for six weeks later. By the grace of all our lucky stars, my dad did not have many side effects from chemo and radiation. The plan worked just as the doctors had hoped. Dad was conquering each step, with Mom always standing right beside him. (The positivity that my mom radiates is something I strive to have. She is without a doubt the glue that has kept my dad, my sister, and I continually going even before cancer affected our family, but especially since July of 2021.)
Cancer is a wild thing. It changes everything. When I found out my dad had cancer, my entire life flipped upside down, and suddenly my priorities and who I wanted in my life became very clear. Cancer doesn’t come with a playbook on how to handle it. Did I handle it correctly? Some would say that I did not; I didn’t allow my dad’s cancer to entirely consume me. I did what I needed to do to be there for my family while staying positive and as happy as I could. For me, this meant continuing to do my multiple jobs (as a performer and a dance teacher) to the best of my ability. Overall, I chose not to let cancer consume me. I am not saying that I didn’t think about it every other minute of every single day. It’s my dad! His health was always on my mind. But I knew my dad wouldn’t want his family to stop living. So, I kept my life going as much as possible, with the help of the most incredible support system of my closest friends.
Over the next few months, days felt short and long at the same time. Life became about doctors’ appointments, tests, and waiting for results. The waiting eventually led to October 19, 2021, surgery day. Without going into every detail, know that it was an extensive six-hour surgery. The cancerous tissue was removed. The doctors also removed 20 lymph nodes from the surrounding area. The pathology report revealed clear margins from the mass, and all the lymph nodes were clear. The cancer had not spread anywhere else! This was the answer we had been desperately praying for. Now, we were on the road to recovery. . . .
My dad had to completely adapt to his new body, including relearning how to eat. Small meals several times a day was his new normal. This was quite an adjustment for the man who thoroughly enjoyed all-you-can-eat buffets! While the new eating style was challenging, he’d beat cancer! Things were getting better and becoming steadier. We all determined to make every moment count, so, naturally, we spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together, again, all flying in from other states. Things were okay. . . until they weren’t.
For the sake of my family and me, I’ll fast forward to early April, 2022. Dad was once again dealing with shortness of breath and getting easily fatigued. One of his doctors said he’d had enough, and sent Dad to the hospital for testing. The chest and abdominal CTs were normal but Dad’s lab values were off. The hospital tried to send my dad home, but that sweet mom I mentioned earlier turned a little sassy and said “no!” She wasn’t leaving without an answer.
And did we get an answer.
The Answer
While still in the hospital, Dad developed dry heaves, a slight headache, and problems with his gait. On April 13th, when Dad’s speech started slowing as well, the hospitalist ordered a head CT. Dad had a lesion in his brain. Suddenly, we were prepping for cancer, round two.
When there is cancer in the brain, things move insanely fast. Treatment plans are made in what feels like an instant. If you thought you shouldn’t google “cancer of the esophagus,” let me tell you what you really shouldn’t google. . . “brain cancer.” I was smarter this go-around, and spared myself too much internet browsing.
Time moved more rapidly, but slowly more slowly than I’d ever felt. They scheduled my dad for brain surgery less than a week later, on Tuesday, April 19th. Are you serious? Brain surgery? That only happens on Grey’s Anatomy. My dad was never supposed to have brain surgery.
So, that story brings me back to my first question: What do you say to one of the most important people in your life just before they go into an operating room to have brain surgery to (hopefully) remove a cancerous tumor?
Earlier that week the hospital chaplain made his daily stop at my dad’s room. He always said the most thought-provoking things and continually left us feeling positive. One phrase stuck out the most for me. He told us it was a good day to have a good day. That was the encouragement I needed to keep pushing forward. When it was time for my dad to go to surgery, I simply said, “It’s a good day to have a good day.” I told my dad that he had to believe that because I was not giving him a different choice. And you know what? April 19th, 2022 was a good day to have a good day.
Dad once again made it through another extensive surgery. This one took seven hours. The neurosurgeon was able to remove about 80-90% of the tumor. The remainder would need radiation which couldn’t happen until after Dad was discharged from the hospital. Dad’s journey since April 19th hasn’t been easy. For starters, he was in the hospital for 6 weeks. They say for every day you’re in the hospital, you need around 3 to 5 days of recovery. I’ll let you do the math.
As I write this, it’s December 2022, and our journey is far from over. Unfortunately, the post-op radiation didn’t “attack” the lesion as we had hoped it would do. We are now waiting to start proton therapy. However, what matters most is that my dad has recovered from 2 major surgeries and there are no new areas of metastasis! We couldn’t have made it through all of this without each other or without the help from our incredible support system. We are a stronger family for it, and for that, I’ll always be thankful.