My dad loves riding motorbikes. He loves fixing up cars and being outside. He’s so strong and he’s invincible. He’s amazing, I idol him.
In the November of 2013, my dad went to the doctors bc he had a really bad cough.
He came home, he sighed, he said that it doesn’t look good. There’s something on the scan he has never seen before. There’s a drop in his voice, he’s scared. My mum tells him he’s over exaggerating.
I whisper, what if it’s not
He goes back to the doctors, and they tell him he has cancer. Everyone in my household stops breathing properly for a few seconds.
They tell us it’s cureable, we are so reliant on this. My mum cries, and my dad gets mad. He starts his first round of chemo.
I tell people what’s happening and they give sympathy. I just get mad.
Dad loses all of the strength in his muscles and some days it’s too hard for him to get up from his bed. Mum gets mad at him for being lazy.
Dad’s family occasionally gets involved showing their support; it doesn’t make a difference.
It’s really hard talking to friends about dad, none of them understand. They say ‘he’ll be fine’. Will he?
Dad had an operation for them to take some of the cancer, he took a selfie before he went into theatre. We laugh a lot about this. I love my dad.
Christmas is really hard, there’s no joy and mum is stressed and drinks more than usual. Dad doesn’t drink anything, he can’t; he’s mad.
Dad is in and out of hospital. He goes in, because he has a lung infection. We spend a lot of time there. By the end of that month, I knew every part of the hospital.
He goes in again with another infection. We visit him sometimes, still making jokes. He’s exhausted.
Dad gets mad a lot. I don’t know why. He snaps at us.
The stress is getting too much for mum; they argue so much. It’s really hard for us kids. We put on fake smiles, only talk when we are asked, we start lying to mum bc if she knew what we were doing she’d freak out.
I wish on stars that dad will get better.
Mum doesn’t sleep anymore at night and dad can’t work.
The doctor tells dad he needs to go for more chemo.
Dad makes friends with the people at the chemo sessions. He snaps at us, we don’t talk much to him. We act like nothing is happening.
I cry, I don’t want dad to go through this. I want my family to be ordinary.
I ask dad if he should get in contact with his other kids to tell them they might have the gene. He doesn’t say anything, he disappears and he cries.
I cry a lot, sometimes for no reason. I notice my sisters do too.
Dad has to take heaps of pills and sometimes he forgets his anti-depressants and he yells at us. Mum cries.
My sister was diagnosed with depression and we found she wanted to kill herself. Being at home sucks.
Christmas isn’t the same; no family event is.
For New Years we get drunk, dad recommends us drinks. He tells me stories about his youth. I laugh, my dad is so fucking cool.
Dad finishes his chemo round and after months of waiting, they tell us that there’s another growth. They take another sample.
He does rounds of chemo, he loses his hair. He has to wear beanies. At least we are beanie buddies now.
I have a boyfriend now, and I spend more time out of the house than with my family. I hardly know what’s going on; only catching snippets of their conversations.
They tell him he has to have a stem cell transplant and he will be in hospital for up to a month. This causes a lot of stress on my mum.
My younger sister doesn’t go to school, and my big sister just broke up with her boyfriend. Why can’t we all be happy.
We haven’t done any family events since dad was diagnosed.
We spend a lot of time at Sandra’s and she makes us food.
Dad has intense rounds of chemo and throws up in the bathroom. He makes jokes saying he’s bulimic and goes back to bed.
Dad no longer has the strength to hold up his motorbike.
I love my dad so much, he’s my idol.
At Christmas my dad walks off and we try to track him down but we can’t find him.
I skipped heaps of days off school to see dad in hospital after his stem cell transplant. I loved seeing dad. We did hangman on his information board. He loved it. I love him.
Dad’s friend from chemo is in here and dad asks about him a lot.
Dad gets out of hospital, and they tell him he can basically do nothing.
At the Easter lunch my dad yelled at my nan and he walked off. I miss dad.
He rebuilds his motorbike, and one day he was teaching me how to drive my car and I crashed.
He sold his motorbike.
He goes to the doctors hopeful, that everything will be fine; they aren’t.
He cries, he’s devastated.
I tell people that dad has two new growths, but I don’t wait for their reply. I cut them off I don’t want sympathy.
He starts chemo again soon.
They tell us it’s terminal, I want to make my dad proud.