My BRCA Journey

My father’s cancer spread. He tried a clinical trial and then did chemotherapy and within two months of him stopping chemo he immediately got weak. We went to Pismo Beach and then had Easter at home and he was not himself. His castration-resistant prostate cancer that had metastasized was now Acute Myeloid Leukemia. My mom pulled me aside and told me, “I know your dad has leukemia. His symptoms are exactly like my first husband’s.” 

Dad’s oncologist, who he absolutely adored, confirmed it and he was assigned to a new oncologist. Mom and I were at a loss for words – let me tell you, that is a rarity. He was scheduled to meet his new oncologist and we went as family. I didn’t feel I was being taken seriously – I asked questions and felt like I was being shrugged off. Once we left and headed to the pharmacy, I was informed that my dad had upwards of 4 medications to take when the doctor had said he didn’t need any prep meds. I was livid.. and an angry Rita is dangerous. I called and complained to anyone at Kaiser who would listen. I was issued an apology and the doctor started taking me seriously.

It didn’t take long to see that the treatment wasn’t working. He was constantly in the hospital. At one point he was in for two weeks, was released, and returned two days later. Eventually, there was nothing further that could be done. He came home on hospice and ate anything and everything he had wanted to try and that he’d been limited to because of also being neutropenic. 

My father was a warrior. As a child he lived in a children’s orthopedic hospital for two years, away from his family. He was always comfortable with doctors, nurses, etc. He said he felt just as good at home a he did in hospitals. I don’t think there was anyone more cheerful or positive in infusion. He would be getting chemo and choppin’ it up with the nurses, patients and doctors. I learned that some people DO smile during chemo and my dad was one of those few. 

I will never be able to eat graham crackers and drink hot chocolate without thinking about Kaiser’s oncology department. After his first infusion I would go to the kitchen and get us our crackers and hot chocolate before the next round was started. My dad referred to all of the nurses, medical assistants, and female doctors as his girlfriends and he truly loved them all so much.

Dad’s hospice care was second to none. My daughter is named Emily after two influential women in my life – my first college professor and the home health aide that gave my dad the absolute dignity and respect he deserved while on hospice. I always wanted to pay tribute to pillars of strength when I had a child – I absolutely got that right.

December 8th, 2019 my dad took his last breath. He was no longer suffering and that is what helped us hold it together. It took until his last week for me to truly hear him complain. 

He battled for SIXTEEN years. Such a badass.