The Mark Pelton Fund

Anytime my dad calls me, it’s bad news. We’ve laughed about it before and I told him I never want to answer when it’s his name I see on the caller ID. We text so often and see each other so frequently that a phone call is never really necessary. After all, my dad is my best friend.

So when he called two weeks ago, I knew.

I knew that the results of the countless tests he had been through over the last couple of months had given us the answer we all feared.

I knew that the fight we have been preparing for just got harder.

And I knew that this relationship we’ve built together, now has a timeline.

All I could do was cry and tell him how sorry I was, while selfishly thinking about what this news means to me. It means I may be losing my best friend, which I’m not prepared to do.

I asked what I could do for him and the only thing he asked of me was to be strong. And I’m trying.

My dad, Mark Pelton, has been diagnosed with Stage 4 Esophageal Cancer. His life expectancy is 1-2 years.

He has been unable to swallow solid foods for months and after a recent surgery is relying on a feeding port to pump formula into his stomach. His pain is high, his energy is low and his weight is even lower. All the man wants to do is eat, but can’t. All he wants to do is fight, but doesn’t have the energy to start.

Tomorrow, March 15th he will have a port installed to begin chemotherapy.

His fight isn’t over, his timeline is not definite and his will is strong, maybe the strongest I know.

But until he’s able to get back to that place, him and my mom will need help. The stress from the bills slowly building while he’s unable to leave bed, and the price of his Adult Baby Formula and pain medication is weighing heavy on him. Anything anyone can do to help him start this fight would be beyond appreciated.

We will save our goodbyes, and for now we will try our best to save our tears. For now, the old man assured me that he’s up to the task, that he has the fight in him. And I have no choice but to believe him.