My father–my brilliant, quick-witted, mercurial, compassionate father–is not going to be dying anytime soon.
The tumor is nueroendocrine. This is the not dangerous kind of pancreatic cancer. They got the whole thing. It’s not aggressive at all.
It’s over.
When this whole thing started–when my father had what we thought was a recurrence of the bladder cancer that turned out to be kidney cancer, when he had a surgery that led to kidney failure, when the resident told us that there was something on the pancreas–it has felt surreal ever since. I have been so on my guard since August, when we first got the news about the kidney. Looking back, it’s hard to believe all of this even happened. Hard to believe we spent two weeks–two WEEKS!–waiting to even find out if there was pancreatic cancer at all. And then the time between the surgeries. And all the googling horrifying statistics like, everyone with pancreatic cancer dies fast.
I don’t think I’ve let my guard down that entire time. And that’s a long time.
So I’m grateful, today. I’m incredibly, unbelievably grateful that this is over. That my family has weathered this storm. That despite the incredible ups and downs, the insanity of the past few months, we will come out all right. Things won’t be the same, because now we know how fragile it is, how close we came. But it’s over. The worst is over.
I feel like I can finally exhale.


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