Hi Molly, I was talking to a friend earlier today about what it’s like having cancer and that I was trying to write this blog but I don’t know if it’s any good. People have suggested before that I write down what it’s like having this condition and how I deal with it, but I generally avoid it since I want the focus to be on me and you. That said, there are one or two things worth sharing.
I’ll never forget being told I have cancer. I went in to the ER after visiting my doctor, he was afraid the pain in my side was my gallbladder about to rupture. After waiting for hours, getting scanned, and then waiting some more, at about 1am the doctor and nurse came into my room. The doctor said unfortunately it’s a little more serious than a gallbladder, the scan showed cancer in my liver. They handled it really well, and I’ve always appreciated that. They stayed with me in silence until I asked to be left alone. I called your mom from the hospital, partially so she could start processing the info as I drove home, and partially because I don’t think I could handle seeing the look on her face.
From there, your mom and I experienced a lot of ups and downs as we learned more about what I was up against. People get cancer all the time, and a lot of them are cured after like a year of treatment. Without knowing any better, I thought maybe that would be me. The worst day was when the oncologist told me, after I insisted on knowing, that the average life expectancy for what I had was 1-2 years. I’ll never forget that day either, up until that point I thought this would be curable. I was on a doctor’s examination table, and I felt like I floated across the room to your mom. The whole thing was so surreal and horrible. This was the worst day of my life.
Weird title after those three paragraphs, there’s a point coming. I was depressed for the next two months. I had no appetite, I couldn’t sleep, I was a wreck. Then a funny thing happened, after a couple months I woke up one day and I just felt sick of being depressed all the time. I thought of something I was told earlier on that at the time I thought was complete bullshit, but now it was about to become my new mantra. I’m going to die some day, but that day’s not today. If I was so sad about my life possibly ending prematurely, then what was I doing moping around and not enjoying what time I had left? Sometimes happiness is a choice.
This was a huge turning point for me. Suddenly I was focused on the things I love and that make life worth living. I truly appreciate and love every second I get to spend with you and your mom. Every smile, every giggle, every time you get my attention to chase you through the house, all of our dances in the living room, when you grab my cheeks and smile at me, when you hug me around my neck, going to the park, playing with our dogs, wrestling on the couch, hiding under blankets, when you hold my hand, when you say “wuv daddy”, I could list a thousand things you do and all of it each day brings me so much joy that there’s not a lot of room for sadness. I didn’t ask for this crash course, but I’ve become pretty good at living in the moment. There’s so much I used to take for granted just kind of going through the motions, in a weird way I’m glad I’m experiencing life the way I am right now.
Don’t get me wrong, I still have my moments where it can get overwhelming. The difference now from about a year ago is those moments pass, most of the time pretty quickly. Usually it’s later at night when I’m getting tired, but then I just get excited and grateful I get to see you in the morning. You’re so much more than I imagined, and I’m so thrilled for every second I get to be your dad. It’s true, I’m going to die some day. But that day’s not today. Right now, in this moment with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
Dear Molly 