My dad and stepmom, Sarah, sat us down at 9 p.m. on April 17. They probably told us a million words about procedures, data, statistics and reassuring us that everything would be okay, but all I heard were the words, “Your dad has cancer.”
Growing up, my dad was invincible. He rarely got sick or hurt, and if he did, I knew it had to be something very serious. But as I sat on the couch, hearing all these words come from my stepmom’s mouth, all I could see was my dad crying. The invincible superhero I grew up watching was not only sick but crying in front of me. My brother, Aiden, couldn’t stop crying next to me, and I just kept thinking “I have to stay strong. I have to stay strong.”
But as I try to force myself to believe these words, tears start streaming down my face as well. I couldn’t hold it in. All the “what-ifs” just started circling my mind, and I couldn’t get them out, even if I tried to.
I finally got past the tears and processed everything we had just heard. My dad has liver cancer, more specifically, cholangiocarcinoma. It’s a rare but aggressive form of cancer. It’s a cancer in the tubes that carry the digestive fluid bile through the liver. The doctors can’t figure out what stage it is because if they do a biopsy, it’ll spread rapidly throughout his body. They can’t do the normal chemotherapy or radiation because of where it is in the body. They have to do a full-body scan to see how much of his body it’s spread to. They have two calls next week with different specialists to get their opinions on the next steps.
The pause of the silence finally broke when my brother got up to give my dad a hug. My heart breaks for Aiden because he considers my dad his best friend, and he’s more scared than any of us.
Saturday. April 19. I got a call on the way to my friend’s birthday party. It’s Sarah. My dad has bad chest pain, they had to rush him to the emergency room. They ruled out a heart attack but are waiting for results from more scans and tests. I’m anxious. What if the cancer spread, and he can’t get on the transplant list? What if he has another type of cancer? What if…
At 6:43 p.m., I got a call from Sarah. Good News. I smiled again. The cancer didn’t spread, and the tumor only grew a little bit, but not much. He got the okay to go home, just got some medicine prescribed for when the pain gets extra bad.
Today is April 21. While I feel like my entire world has turned upside down, and I’m constantly scared every time I get a phone call, I know that this is just the beginning. I know the foreseeable future of my life will be filled with many more ups and downs, what-ifs and many more emotions.
I have no idea what good news or bad news will come, but what I do know is I will live every moment to the fullest. I will treasure every moment that I have because I don’t know when it will be my last. I know that through every up and down of my dad’s health and my emotions, I will lean on the people around me because I can’t do this alone.
So for now, even in the hardest of news, I chose to celebrate the little wins, remember that I am not alone and pray that I will get to spend more time with my dad.