Grumpy Bear Jer and the Lymphoma

Jerry aka Gerald aka Grumpy Bear aka my dad, father of assholes and wielder of the dread middle finger... my dad has cancer.


What started out  in September as a nagging cough and a frustrating fatigue, had progressed to the point where even the most stubborn of human men FINALLY went to the doctor.  Several rounds of tests found nothing, so while the doctors dug deeper, dad just got sicker.

He had a little extra to begin with, but in November, he started losing weight.  More and more.  The pounds were dropping off; a combination of a cough that continued to worsen to the point that he could barely catch his breath - the burning of the energy, and the inability to eat while coughing.  But what was going on??

I flew to Canada as all of the testing began.  Blood tests said it was probably cancer, but we didn’t know: What type?  How bad?  How long?


The first biopsy was unsuccessful - not enough tissue.  So was the second.  And the third.  Days were just passing, weeks, and then months.  January came and went.  Then February.  We still have no answers and no treatments.  We vent our helpless rage out on each other as we shake fists at the system and watch as our dad continues to fade away, right in front of our eyes.  Weight loss, muscle loss, loss of coordination and loss of concentration.  Weakness.  His cheeks began to sink in, his eyes went dark.  We were hapless and raging as we watched our father slowly... quickly die while nothing was done.

FINALLY, two weeks ago, he was admitted for a tumor resection - surely if they get the whole tumor they can figure this out?? 

Dad was taken into surgery, hopeful and with a twinkle in his eye.  We might get some answers.  Only there was a complication in the surgery - an artery was nicked and he lost a lot of blood.  A lot.  The recovery from that was awful - he already wasn’t eating.  He didn't have what he needed to rebuild his blood.  What precious little energy he had left was robbed.  No more jokes.  No more devilish smirks.  No more middle fingers.

More days go by.  It is March.  We are waiting and waiting.  Dad’s doctor puts him on prednisone, and surprisingly it HELPS.  Suppresses his cough and allows him to EAT - truly eat - for the first time in weeks.  Some of his color returns.  His energy.  His spunk.

But still we wait.  Finally, he’s called to come into the hospital.  The pathology results of the tumor resection are in.  Dad has Diffuse Aggressive B-cell Lymphoma.  It’s fast moving, and everywhere.  He has hundreds of tumors, all over his body.  

The good news we receive is that the aggressive lymphomas typically respond well to treatment.  The bad news is - treatment is $2400 per dose - and dad needs 6 doses.

I don’t know who can afford that kind of money in order to live.  I don’t understand how the system can work that way.  Even though they live in Canada, and medicare covers a LOT, the treatment required is by prescription - which means Mom and Dad need $14400 in order to get the medicine to save dad’s life... and they need it in advance.

Please help if you can.  Please don’t give more than you can afford.  Please remember that small things done with great love can change the world.  Even $5 helps.

Thank you.