On April 27th, my father, Mo, went to bed with a headache. He took two Tylenol and turned in early after a long day replacing the shocks on his van. What would occur over the following sixty days would change his life dramatically; a months-long misdiagnosis of walking pneumonia would eventually reveal itself as cancer with a side of seizures induced by a subdural hematoma. As I am writing this, he will have been in the hospital for 32 days.
In mid-May, when Mo arrived at a Central California urgent care he was misdiagnosed yet again as having a necrotic gallbladder. They deemed that he needed a specialist to do emergency surgery, but they could not find a bed in Los Angeles where my mother and I, both reside. After days of waiting, they found a bed in a San Francisco hospital, some 380 miles away. He was taken by air ambulance to San Francisco and was later correctly diagnosed with having lymphoma. Emergency averted. Chemo to the rescue.
Then…
…the confusion and lethargy began to seep into Mo’s waking moments. Hallucinations compounded by brief bouts of paranoia and ultimately sleep for 8 days. CT scans revealed blood had mysteriously pooled in his brain leading to small seizures that would overtake him every few minutes during that period. The chemo was postponed while the blood took its time to reabsorb. And while the body is an amazing machine, not using it for over a week leads to a weakening of muscles, balance, and lungs.
Physical therapy was then added to the chemo treatments. Strengthening the body naturally while also weakening it through chemicals. The recovery is thought to take a year; and while the doctors are positive that Mo will make a full recovery, the financial burden on this experience is high. Mo will be forced into full-retirement while undergoing 8 months of chemo treatments. He will also need a nurse/care worker to help him through the rough patches post-treatment.
While we’re forever indebted to the wonderful hospital Mo is being treated at, it has put a sizeable burden on my family’s income. Besides the medical costs and air ambulance, we’re looking at a month’s worth of accommodations, loss of income, gas, food, etc. It all costs us as my mother and I try to tag team our stay with my father as best as we can.
Mo isn’t just my father, he’s also my daughter’s Jeddo (Lebanese for Grandfather). She loves him with all her heart and it breaks mine to think of her losing him. So we are eternally grateful to the excellent doctors and nurses taking care of him and to those of you who can help in any way that you’re financially able.
We understand the times that we are currently living in, so donate what you can and/or share this fundraiser via socials. It helps spotlight the page.
The three of us are extremely thankful for all of you reading this. Your thoughts and concerns help keep Mo going through the most challenging period of his life.
With love,
Mo, Eileen, Jake and Family
