Making Every Day Count

When diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in the late spring of 1997 at the age of 64, my father had a very clear understanding of what this would mean – especially as his illness was found after it had metastasized to his liver.

But rather than focus on what might have been, he quickly determined to make every day count, by living in the moment and spending time in a meaningful and lasting way with friends and family.  In this way, he defied the curse of the devastating diagnosis:  after passing his law practice onto his partner, he voraciously read books on politics and art history, as well as French murder mysteries.  He enjoyed the offerings of his native downtown Boston and the harbor view from their skyscraper apartment.   He and my mother finally rented a summer home in the Berkshire Hills of Western Massachusetts, fulfilling a long-deferred dream.  There they entertained friends and family and spent weeks and weekends with their 10-month-old grandson.

A dozen years later, we look back fondly (figuratively and literally, since we captured many funny moments on video) on the time we all spent together that summer, when the chemo was doing its palliative magic, and when my father – and the entire family – could savor what was most important in life, building memories that we will treasure for the rest of our lives.

There have been advancements in the understanding of pancreatic cancer since the late 1990s, but the message to patients and their families from my father’s experience remains applicable, at least to me:  no matter the physiological impact on the body, my father defeated the disease in spirit by making every day count, by doing the things he enjoyed most and spending time with the people he loved.