When I was a kid, I didn’t know anyone with cancer. We all knew it was a deadly disease but it seemed so far removed from my everyday life. Then when I was 20, the mother of a good friend of mine died of cancer. That was the first time it touched my life in a semi-peripheral way. I remember thinking how unfair that someone at the age of 20 should lose their mother and wondering how I would feel if that was me. I called both my Mom and Dad that night to talk with them. Those fleeting moments where we realize we’re taking loved ones for granted. Then I was 28 and my mother was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer). We were told that it was aggressive, relatively rare and virtually impossible to treat. Suddenly cancer was in my own family. They gave my Mom 6 months to live. She survived for three more years. During that three year long struggle, I learned more about cancer than I had ever wanted to know. I learned that 1 in 3 people will develop cancer. Suddenly my perspective was a lot different. Like most people, when something affects us so personally, we suddenly notice it everywhere. I heard about cancer in the news more, people I knew were diagnosed with it, people were dying from it, like my Mother did.
Then a year or so later, my Dad calls to tell me that he has a malignant growth in his neck. I can remember the blood draining from my head and the word cancer burning into my consciousness. He was going to have radiation and that everything should be fine. It was.
Then a couple of years ago, they discover pre-cancerous cells on my Dad’s esophagus. He’s been ok though so far, no changes in those cells.
Then last year, my Aunt, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went through surgeries and treatments. Always courageous and strong though and she is a survivor. She started a campaign sewing bandana’s for cancer survivors.
Shortly after, my cousin on my Dad’s side, only a few years older than me, with small children at home, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has been fighting this battle and I know that she leans on my Aunt for support, for someone who truly understands.
Yesterday, my phone rings and it’s my Dad. During the day. My Dad never calls me during the day. He’d been in the hospital over the last few weeks because he’d been having problems with his prostate. He makes small chat for a minute and then tells me he has Prostate Cancer. He tells me that it’s not aggressive and that the doctors will have a plan for him in two weeks. He tells me not to worry and that everything will be ok.
I am worried. How can I not be. And, yes, I’m scared. I lost one parent to cancer already and for some reason, it keeps trying to embed its insiduous self in my father. I always said that I was never scared of growing older. And I’m not, not for myself at least. But I’m realizing that growing older also means that those around us have a higher incidence of cancer and other illness’s and for that reason I’m afraid of growing older. Growing older means more chances of losing loved ones.
I love you Dad.