Written by Nicole Becker
There are specific moments in life when time seems to stand still – the world stops, and your life is forever changed. If you’re familiar with Head for the Cure, you probably remember exactly where you were when you first heard the word “cancer” spoken about yourself or someone you love.
For me, that moment is still so clear, even three years later. There I was sitting down for an ocean-view dinner with my husband on our honeymoon, when I got a message from my mom saying “Call me”.
I knew my dad had an appointment coming up. Over the past few months, he had started being more forgetful – leaving tasks unfinished and repeating questions multiple times. I even remember jokingly asking him one day, “Are you getting old or something? You just asked me that.”. He had taken a fall during that time, where he did hit his head. I was worried he might have a concussion or, worse, a small brain bleed. I had told my mom that something didn’t seem right, and between the two of us – and my sister – we decided to push for further imaging.
Never did I expect to wish that he had only suffered a small brain bleed instead of the diagnosis to come: glioblastoma.
After getting a few opinions on his imaging, we moved quickly and got him set up at Siteman Cancer Center. There, we met with an entire team – oncology, radiation oncology, neurology, nurses, and care coordinators – each explaining their piece of the puzzle. Though we were still hoping for a miracle, the diagnosis was confirmed and it was terminal. The tumor was inoperable due to its location and size. He was able to undergo chemotherapy and radiation in the hopes of shrinking the tumor and prolonging his time with us.
I remember the feeling of how unfair this was; that this was my dad, someone who was always there for me and had dropped whatever he was doing to support me. He was my go-to person. Now what?
While there were incredibly dark moments, I look back now and remember so much laughter and joy. My sister and I were both adults, with our own lives -working, seeing friends, and, in my case, living out of state – but none of that stopped us from being together. I was nearly on a first-name basis with the Delta staff.
We had seven months together after the diagnosis – seven months where my family and I dropped everything to be there for my dad and for each other. We laughed, we joked, we experienced new things, we spent time with friends and family, and, oddly enough, in our darkest moments, we created so many new and meaningful memories. We learned what truly mattered: each other, and making the most out of the time we were given.
All of this led to my journey as an Ambassador with Head for the Cure. Our family has participated in the 5K events for several years -even a few before my dad’s diagnosis. I was inspired by the advocacy work they were doing to spread awareness of brain cancer. My goal as an ambassador is to continue advocating for my dad, for survivors, and for families like ours: to help find a cure and to encourage people that even in the saddest moments, it’s important not to forget to look for the joy.
To my dad: I love you, I miss you, and I hope we keep making you proud