July 15, 2020. It’s a day I won’t ever forget. It’s the day I drove down with my dad to Memorial Sloan Kettering in NYC and watched him walk in alone for his first cancer treatment.

I cried in the backseat of the car that day watching him embark on a journey that I knew would forever change our lives. I also watched my mom sitting in the front seat keeping it together like only Fran can. I know she did that for me. She knew I needed to feel her strength. She was so optimistic, upbeat, and organized. She was ready to fight when all I wanted to do was crumble.

I don’t remember the exact day my dad told me he had a non-curable form of cancer (neuro endocrine carcinoma to be exact). What I do remember is my brain flooding with questions. How bad is it? How long can he live with it? Can the tumor they found be removed? What will his treatment look like? Whyyyyyyyyy him? He is my dad. Sure, I knew he would get old and even more crabby than he is now but nope, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to my dad.

Fast forward six months later. My dad is fighting hard but his treatments and cancer have taken their toll. He is weak, has lost weight, is bald, and is cold and tired all the time. He looks very different but the fundamental man that he always was has not changed. After every conversation we have I continue to admire his strength.

His sense of humor is still very much intact and busting my chops is still an almost daily occurrence. He has gone a little soft though. A man who once proclaimed himself an introvert has now warmed up to social interactions. He is well liked by his nurses and even called himself charming the other day.

This diagnosis has rocked all of our worlds. My pandemic lifestyle once consisted of homeschooling and lounge wear but now finds me driving dad to chemo and visiting my parents as much as time/good health permits. I have also become quite the pro at navigating my way around NYC and Bergen County, NJ.

Bottom line, it sucks. It sucks that a disease can take so much from one person. It sucks that a pandemic has limited our in person time together. Most of all it sucks that twice a week my dad has to spend hours alone in a room getting treatments and no one can be there with him. F COVID. F cancer.

As we find ourselves ten months from the beginning of the craziest year of most of our lives, I find myself reflecting on all that has happened. It’s surely had its shit moments but it has made me love a little deeper, laugh a little more, and cherish the good that comes from the bad. It’s so true what they say, tomorrow is never promised. I certainly am not taking any of my days for granted.

Prayers for dad are always welcome! He needs all the people he can lifting him up right now!

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