When I was only 8 years old, my dear dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer in his liver, and fungal pneumonia in his lungs. The doctors only gave him about 15% chance at life. For two long years, my father battled that cancer with a new and experimental type of treatment that was just coming out. After so long of trying to fight this awful cancer...he lived. However, the doctors told us that 4% of the people who did the experiment would come back with leukemia in 5 years. I'm sad, and sorry to report that this is what happened. I spent most of my childhood in a hospital, visiting my dad..fearing for his life....He looked so weak...and even though he was tired, he always managed to help me with my homework. Well....now that you know what is going on....Ill tell you the part that I dream about every time this year.....




February 26, 2006. 3:30 am, Saturday....three days after my dad's birthday....My father, (I'm adopted by a gay couple) came in and woke me up. He told me to get dressed quickly...and to go down to the car....
In a haze of confusion and sleepiness, I walked o my dresser and got dressed, then stumbled to the garage and got into the car. All the while I had no idea what was going on. “Pop, whats going on?” I asked. I had no idea what I was in for.

“City of Hope called”. And that was all he had to say before my heart sank into sheer terror. City of Hope is a cancer hospital that dad was at, and my father told me that dad had gone into a cardiac arrest and had been rushed to the Intensive Care Unit, and was on life support. I just froze....I did not cry....I did not tear up...I was so scared....felt so empty inside....I just sat there as we drove to the hospital. I used my father's cellphone to call our family and friends, telling them that they needed to come see dad...because it might be the last time.

We got to the ICU of the hospital...went to the front desk....got our name tags, and went up the elevator. The doctor was waiting for us in the lobby, and sat us down before we were allowed to go in. “His situation is critical” the doctor said to us...”I am afraid he will not make it”. I didn't want to hear it, so I walked away. I was only 13 years old....and experiencing one of the most horrifying events anyone could experience. The doctor took us to see dad...and there he was....his eyes were open, with little drops of blood in them....and a blank expression on his face....and tubes going into his body in every direction. I ran into the restroom and began to vomit out of fear and sorrow. I could not bare to see my beloved father in that condition. I walked out of the room and began to cry. Many family and friends came to see him one last time....and all of them were scared to see him in his condition, exiting the room in tears, and going into the lobby of the hospital floor. My father and I spent the entire weekend at the hospital. Barely ate...barely slept....barely spoke a word....we just....waited....hoping that something would change....but it all remained the same....

That week, I went to my 8th grade classes, trying so hard to hold back the tears....but walking up the hill to my classes, I just was in tears. I told my class the updates on his condition....and everyone was as scared as I was....a wave of cold filled the room...and all happiness just seemed to escape in that instant. I did not want to go back to the hospital, but I swallowed my pride and went anyway. A priest came to give dad his last rights, and then, we just left the hospital....and went home....on that rainy night.


The fallowing morning, everything seemed to be ok. A girl named Valerie, who was also in my grade, came and told me to go to the principal's office. There he stood....my father.....and after seeing him....I knew my dad was gone....
The doctors told us that we had to think about taking him off of life support...but he died all on his own...Kidney failure....Leukemia...Brain Damage....Lung failure, heart failure, so many things that happened all in that instant. I know it may be hard to lose someone....but its worse when you have to watch them suffer for years and years, praying that a miracle may happen and watching your nightmares come true in one instant.


5 years have passed since that awful night...and during each year it gets a little easier. But whenever this time of the year comes....it just feels like I'm starting the process all over again. I am slowly recovering. It has not been an easy road for anyone in my family. But I thank him for the time I had with him....and just wished I could have had him for a little while longer.