Help my dad with lymphoma see his grandkids

My dad is battling lymphoma and hasn’t seen his grandkids in almost 3 years

In 2016, I moved my wife, infant daughter, and two-year-old son from Las Vegas, Nevada to Oklahoma so I could attend a graduate creative writing program.

At the time, my dad lived in the Reno area and the move to Oklahoma already seemed huge and I felt like I'd never see him again. We've never been particularly wealthy or had substantial means, but we always got by. We were always happy. He promised he'd visit when he could, and he did. He was able to visit once in 2017 to celebrate his birthday with his grandson because they were born on the same day, fifty-nine years apart. He wasn't able to visit long. My daughter was only 16 months old at the time.

In 2018, my dad planned another trip to visit. Again to share his birthday with his grandson. On his way to visit, his vehicle blew a tire while on the freeway causing extensive damage to his car and he was unable to make his planned visit.

Later that year my dad began feeling ill. For months his doctor ran tests and made him wait for results. ”Two more weeks,” they said over and over. Finally, after six months of guesswork and blood tests and biopsies, the doctor identified the issue has Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.

At this point, it had been two years since my dad was able to hold his grandkids. He was to begin his chemotherapy treatment days before his birthday. Days before his grandson’s birthday.

Had I been able, I would have driven across the country to be with my dad. To bring his grandkids to see him. But I couldn't. I had responsibilities for grad school. I was in thesis hours and I was completely unable to do anything. My dad said, ”just do what you have to do and take care of those grandbabies for me.” My advisor said, ”sometimes life hands us difficult situations. As writers, it's our job to use our pain as fuel for the fire.”

So, I sat and I wrote. I cried every day. My dad was weak and couldn't speak or text. Couldn't hold a phone. I wrote for 10-12 hours a day. And when I wasn't writing, I was recalling all my favorite childhood memories spent with my dad, sending them to him as text messages I knew he was too weak to read.

After three months and 1000+ hours of writing, I finished my thesis. A novel I titled, *The Patron Saint of Pinball.*

A book about a man who is so distraught about his impending death that he chooses to abandon his life to live secretly inside a pinball arcade. A place where he can hide a relive the memories of his youth in peace. The novel centers around a man who attempts to reconcile his misspent youth in the face of death. Much like I did during the time of writing the novel, the book utilizes humor to misdirect attention from the seriousness of reality.

I defended the novel as my thesis three months later and earned my MFA.

My dad wasn't able to attend my graduation. He cried when he told me he could be there, even though I told him I didn't care. That was December 2019.

Since then, my dad has suffered multiple complications. Anal fissures. The area around the port they used for chemo became infected and the port had to be removed. He's been rushed to the ER every two-three weeks for the past eight months. His attitude has gone from ”everything will be fine” to ”I still feel weak.” It's breaking my heart because I know all he wants is to see his grandkids again.

I didn't really know what to do with my novel after graduation. The only goal I ever had was to become the best writer I was capable of being. I thought that meant moving halfway across the country and getting a fancy writing degree. All I want now is to be with my dad. For my kids to be with their Papa.

I put my book up on Amazon. Academically, this effectively murdered any chance I had at obtaining a university position. Self-publishing is a joke to the so-called literary world. I don't care. I poured my soul into my novel. Wrote and rewrote draft after draft. I didn't become a writer for an academic pat on the back. I became a writer because I love books and I love to write.

If you could contribute in anyway, my family would be eternally grateful.  If you can’t contribute cash, you can help by reading my thesis novel. 

If you're a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, please download my book for free. Thumb through the pages. Maybe write a review. Literally, every page you read/view helps me.

If you're not a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, the info page has a free ”Look Inside” sample.

If you're feeling extra kind, you could purchase a copy of the book. Print or digital. Either would be immensely helpful. My wife designed the cover for the paperback.

Honestly, I just want to earn enough money to drive my car the 2500 mile roundtrip to visit my dad. I would do anything to be close to him again.




Book link:
Amazon link for The Patron Saint of Pinball 

Thank you to all who took the time to read.