Help with bills as my mom grieves my dad’s death

Hello.

I’m Seth.

I don’t usually ask for help, it’s not really in my nature. But this isn’t about me.

My father, Mark Abrams-Misbeek, is a great man. At least in my estimation, and you can include all the bias you’d like. For as long as I’ve known him, for as long as I can remember, he has always put others before himself. He loves deeply. He is quick to laugh and even quicker to warmth. That’s his nature.

And at his core is a monumental strength. A momentum. A power of will. This strength saw him rise early each day to support those around him. Work to beautify the community and provide for his family. Positivity to uplift any who needed it. Passion to amplify others.

This strength saw him press on as the years went by, as his sons left the households he upheld. To continue to work, hands in the earth, back bent and knees aching, to care for and help carry his wife, Lisa, my amazing mother.

This strength sees him continuing this way to this day. But now it wavers.

Now it falters.

Last week my mom called me, imparting dreadful news. Dad has cancer. Esophageal. Further bad news quickly followed. As if the universe tipped the wrong way, all the bad winds twisting to form the perfect shitstorm - it all crashed down at once.

My parents are practically out of money. My mother still cannot work due to an entire host of health issues that have plagued her for over two decades. Dad’s strength was what saw them through that. But he can’t earn money if he can’t work. And no, there is no retirement or back up savings.

That strength is now slipping.

Mark loses weight by the day. He cannot eat. He will have to be placed on a feeding tube very soon, if this continues (which I was just informed will likely be the case within the next few days).

And most unfortunately, no, I am not in a position to be able to fix any of this.

We need help.

Anything donated will go directly to helping Mark and Lisa live. To eat. To pay every day bills. To pay those looming on the horizon.

Everything donated will go directly to building back up that wavering strength. My father deserves to receive the same support he has always so freely given.

Please, let’s show him, and my mother, the strength to see them through.

Thank you.

Update (3/23)

Dad met with the oncologist today. The news is bleak. His cancer is aggressive and incurable. Beyond the esophagus, the cancer has metastasized in his liver. We are looking at a 2-6 month window of life remaining, with a slim chance that aggressive chemo could add another six months.

My mother is currently with Mark at the hospital, awaiting a more private room for him. After the move, the feeding tube should be inserted, and more discussion should follow.

We are crushed. Frankly, I may be in slight shock. And I cannot fully fathom how my mom feels right now.

Update (3/24)

The feeding tube has been set in dad’s nose, and he’s settled for now. Until Monday, at least, when they insert the tube into his stomach.

Update (3/27)

More bad news this morning: the doctor told my mom that they are unable to move the feeding tube to the stomach due to how enlarged dad’s liver has become. There is still a possibility of the move, but it involves further risk. I’m unsure as to what comes next - but dad’s health is declining rapidly. This is all happening so fast, I can barley keep up. I still cannot fully fathom what this is all like for my mom.

I am currently looking at flights down to the area, and should be there some time tomorrow. With the pace of this all, planning is difficult (to say the least).

Update (3/29)

I’m currently at my parent’s house, with my mom and brother, waiting for the delivery of hospital equipment. Dad is coming home around noon today to be put on hospice, to be made comfortable. So he can find peace. We’ve been meeting with some of that team as the day progresses.

My flight got me to town right in time to see him for about an hour last night. I am so grateful for being able to be here. My mother really needs the support. She’s been handling almost all of this by herself, ailing all along, with stress and dread weighing on her spirit and body. I’m doing all I can to just be present for them both. Jared, my little brother, has also stepped up and added whatever support he’s been able to give.

Here’s a bit of beauty in all this bile: Monday night, a rabbi came to the hospital and married my mom and dad. They renewed their vows! Mom said this was one of the most amazing and magical moments of her entire life. I hope this brings some light to all who have been following along.

Wish us all luck.

I’ll continue to update.

Thank you so so much to everyone who has expressed concern, shared this story and fundraiser, and/or donated even a penny. I simply don’t have the words to express what this means.