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The author visiting her father at work.<\/p>\nI thought it may have been Mom\u2019s cheesy potatoes.<\/p>\n
It was Easter, and in between doing a million things, she added too much butter. When she first pulled the pan from the oven, a thick layer of oil wriggled at the top. My brother, father and I playfully jabbed at it with our fingers, giggling as Mom rolled her eyes and scraped the oil off into the trash before dropping it on the table with an annoyed thump. <\/p>\n
As dinner started and we filled our plates, we traded glances with one another and begrudgingly took scoops of the potatoes, lifting small bites to our mouths with reservation to make Mom happy. But as we ate, Dad sat back in discomfort, lips pressed, looking down at the food he\u2019d hardly touched. <\/p>\n
There had been signs prior \u2015 indigestion and aches in his abdomen. That January, we had taken a family trip to Mexico, and most days he\u2019d return to the room early to lie down. At the buffets, he\u2019d turn up his nose, nauseated. For months his appetite would wane and he\u2019d feel uncomfortable, but we figured it was because it was flu season, or he was traveling or something was wrong with the food. So maybe those awful potatoes were upsetting him. <\/p>\n
One month after Easter, my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer. <\/p>\n
In the year that followed, Dad stepped into his treatment with hope and resolve. He\u2019d crack jokes with the staff that administered his chemo, forgot about the port in his chest and would walk talkative laps with us in the hospital ward when he needed stents in his kidneys. But over time, the disease gathered strength and pulled more from him. He lost weight, lost hair and, eventually, he lost faith that he would beat the cancer. <\/p>\n
The day he was diagnosed, I had flown home from Chicago and entered into a silent pact with myself. I would never break in front of him. I wouldn\u2019t let my fear and anger become a burden and give him more to bear. On the way home, I hid in a dirty bathroom stall, sobbing gently so no one would hear me. I nodded politely at airline attendants and hid my puffy eyes behind sunglasses. I collapsed into my mother\u2019s arms upon arrival \u2015 breathless, afraid my legs would give out \u2015 and cried all the way to the hospital in an effort to exorcise my feelings.<\/p>\n
But when we went inside and I saw Dad for the first time, I gave myself no choice but to temper the anxious fluttering in my chest. For the next year, I took solace in the shadowed corners of hospital hallways when he\u2019d return there, symptoms flaring, but would go back to his room with a smile on my face. At home, I\u2019d retreat to the bathroom to soothe the red gathering in my eyes or release my rage by throwing things in the basement. Then, once I\u2019d pulled myself together, I\u2019d sit beside him to swap jokes and tell favorite old stories.<\/p>\n
The author visiting her father at work.<\/p>\n
It was 10 months into his treatment when I finally broke in front of him, and he revealed the surprising yet profound truth he was using to guide his way through his diagnosis. It was a warm spring afternoon, and I sat across from Dad in the living room where the sun poured in. Our conversation moved from everyday chatter to the latest news about his treatments, his progress, the food he could still stomach and what might be next steps.<\/p>\n
I approached all of it \u2015 no matter how bleak \u2015 with optimism. I looked for a kernel of hope even where there appeared to be none. But Dad thwarted me with his steadfast practicality and the reality I couldn\u2019t avoid. \u201cI\u2019m sick, dear,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
I felt the anger swell in my throat \u2015 attempting to manifest itself in words between the tears I\u2019d long held back \u2015 when I finally asked the question we often do when faced with the bleakest of circumstances: Why? Why him?<\/p>\n
He looked back at me calmly and then said something I\u2019ll never forget: \u201cWhy not me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Why not me. Three little words leveled the room and then hung there definitively, filling the space between us like a fog. Even in the thick of his suffering, he could so clearly see and accept what most people never do.<\/p>\n
Why my father? Why my friend? Why my spouse? Why my child? Why do bad things happen to undeserving people?<\/p>\n
When tragedy is personal, it feels anything but random, and we desperately try to find a reason to make it feel less so. To place blame. But Dad didn\u2019t do anything to get cancer \u2015 it just happened. This realization meant accepting the absolute absence of reason. Cancer \u2015 and other terrible, unthinkable things \u2015 doesn\u2019t happen to everyone but can, in fact, happen to anyone. <\/p>\n
In May 2015, just shy of one year after Dad was diagnosed, we lost him to colon cancer. My grief has lingered since then like a mild, disorienting fever I carry every day. <\/p>\n
In these last seven years, I\u2019ve watched colon cancer gather strength. I\u2019ve seen more headlines about how it\u2019s upended more lives. I\u2019ve read more disheartening facts about how more people are battling it or losing their lives to it. March is Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month, and I can\u2019t help but look back on those three words and how they offer invaluable wisdom \u2015 and a way to put Dad\u2019s perspective into practice. <\/p>\n
According to the American Cancer Society<\/a>, colorectal cancer is the third-leading cause of cancer deaths. It\u2019s estimated that there will be more than 150,000 new cases of colorectal cancer in the U.S. this year, and though it\u2019s long been thought of as a disease that typically affects older people, it\u2019s becoming more prevalent in people under 55<\/a>.<\/p>\n Though we might not have a reason for why someone gets colon cancer, we do have ways to detect it, and the earlier we do, the better the prognosis usually is. In fact, the American Cancer Society notes<\/a> that \u201cwhen colorectal cancer is found at an early stage before it has spread, the 5-year relative survival rate is about 90%.\u201d Getting screened for colon cancer starting at 45<\/a> is important for people with an average risk of the disease, and those with a family history of the disease (which up to 30%<\/a> of colorectal cancer patients have) or other risk factors<\/a> may want to talk to their doctor about beginning screenings even earlier.<\/p>\n Unfortunately, according to the Fight Colorectal Cancer organization, more than 20 million<\/a> Americans are behind on their screenings, even though diagnoses are becoming increasingly more advanced<\/a>. Oftentimes waiting for symptoms<\/a> to appear can be fatal because, as my family intimately came to know, they may be so mild or mistaken for other mundane issues<\/a> that the cancer is not found until it\u2019s at a later stage, when it\u2019s harder to treat. <\/p>\n Armed with this information, I know I have to be vigilant about my own screenings. I take constant inventory of my health, and I hope my family\u2019s story may motivate others to do the same. I can\u2019t say that things would have turned out differently if Dad had been screened or had seen a doctor earlier about his symptoms, but the not knowing \u2015 the chance that he might have been saved \u2015 is a question that will claw inside of me for the rest of my life.<\/p>\n Of course, Dad\u2019s realization \u2015 \u201cWhy not me?\u201d \u2015 wasn\u2019t just about his sickness, and it has taught me more than just to prioritize my health. It has also inspired me to live a fuller life. Chance invites risk, but it also invites reward. Dad reminded me to be careful when I can and where I should, but also to believe in myself.<\/p>\n Because of this, I\u2019ve discovered I can take impassioned leaps and land somewhere I never thought possible. Whether it\u2019s pursuing my love of writing or moving to new places, it\u2019s helpful to remember that we don\u2019t know what great things can happen unless we try. Dad\u2019s words have helped me experience incredible moments and do things that I may not have otherwise done because… why not me? Why shouldn\u2019t I reach for all of the things I want? Why shouldn\u2019t I pursue all the things Dad would want for me \u2015 and that he would be so happy to see me achieve if he were here? Maybe those three words were his final guiding lesson, and it\u2019s one that has given me the strength to live a life he would be proud of. <\/p>\n TheTideHas Turned<\/p>\n Your SupportFuelsOur Mission<\/p>\n Your SupportFuelsOur Mission<\/p>\n Cut through the chaos<\/p>\n Americans just sent Trump a clear message \u2014 and Dems are calling it “a 5-alarm fire” for the president. Our reporters are here to keep you informed and make sense of Washington’s chaos. Join HuffPost and be part of what happens next.<\/p>\n We remain committed to providing you with the unflinching, fact-based journalism everyone deserves.<\/p>\n Thank you again for your support along the way. We\u2019re truly grateful for readers like you! Your initial support helped get us here and bolstered our newsroom, which kept us strong during uncertain times. Now as we continue, we need your help more than ever. ![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/64107b6f240000190051242e.png\")
The author (right) with her family at a wedding four months after her father\u2019s colon cancer diagnosis.<\/p>\n