The One Year Anniversary of My Dad's Lung Cancer

July 1, 2021 marked one year since my dad was diagnosed with Stage 3B Lung Adenocarcinoma. When I think back on that day, it's crazy to see how far we've come.

In January 2020, my parents had actually come up to New York to look at a wedding dress with us. In early March, shortly after they returned to Virginia, my dad was suffering from a really bad cough, back pain, and shortness of breath. Because COVID was going around, he was scared he might have it, so he went to the local INOVA health care center to get checked out. My parents, like many immigrant parents, never go to the doctor. They have also never had health insurance.

The doctor told my dad he likely didn't have COVID, but because he was coughing up blood in his sputum, they thought he might have tuberculosis, so they tested him for that. The test came back negative so they ran a scan on his chest, and that's when they found a large mass on the top part of my dad's right lung. The doctor told my dad they needed to do a lung biopsy on him to be certain of what the tumor was, but he told my dad that the tumor was likely not cancer. My parents didn't tell me about any of this until Greg and I visited them in the beginning of June to help them move into their new townhouse.

One morning, I saw them walk outside together to take a phone call. I asked them what the phone call was about, and that’s when they told me about the lung mass. They told me not to worry and that it was likely not cancer, but obviously I was worried and I feared it was cancer. At the end of June, on the day before his lung biopsy, Greg and I drove back down to Virginia to be there for the procedure, but on that day, my dad received a phone call from the hospital. He was told that his insurance had been automatically switched over to Kaiser Permanente and he would now have to pay $25,000 for his lung biopsy that was happening the very next day because this procedure was no longer covered under his current insurance plan. My dad cancelled his lung biopsy, we switched him over to Kaiser, and we had to start his care all over again. This is when Greg and I took over taking care of my dad’s health.

I still remember that phone call. It was the day after my dad’s 60th birthday. Because we were in the middle of the pandemic, all of my dad’s appointments were either via Zoom or telephone. His doctor was Dr. Mrunalini Chakurkar, a pulmonary specialist at Kaiser Permanente in Tysons Corner. She was incredible — she was direct, honest, and didn’t beat around the bush. After looking at my dad's scans from INOVA, contrary to what my dad’s previous doctor told him, Dr. Chakurkar told us the lung mass was most likely Stage 3B or 3C Lung Adenocarcinoma.

When Dr. Chakurkar told us it was Stage 3 Lung Cancer, I felt my heart drop to the bottom of my chest. My brain and body were in complete shock. I could not comprehend or accept my new reality. We were still on the phone with the doctor, so I put my emotions aside so I could get all the information we needed to figure out how to move forward. I asked about next steps, life expectancy, and treatment options. We rescheduled the biopsy that he had cancelled, and we scheduled his first PET scan for the following day. I held back tears. I texted three of my closest friends. I felt completely overwhelmed. This was my worst fear coming true, in the middle of a global pandemic. My dad had cancer.

After the call, Greg and I went outside for a walk to process through everything. We sat on a curb, a little ways away from my parents' new house. I couldn't cry at first, but my feelings eventually caught up with me. I burst into tears.

I felt completely helpless. I was angry. I was terrified. I was frustrated. I felt so many things all at once. I felt like my world had stopped. In an instant, my life had completely changed.

I knew next to nothing about cancer. I felt completely unprepared. The pandemic was bad enough, but now we had to deal with cancer? I just had a reel in my mind of all of my greatest fears. I kept thinking about how bad I knew things could get. I knew death was possible. I had no idea how or if we would beat this thing, or what the road ahead would look like. We were also dealing with a global pandemic. I had no capacity to deal with my dad having late-stage cancer.

I was in an emotional and mental fog for the first couple days. I mostly compartmentalized my feelings so I could take care of my dad and take him to all of his appointments, procedures, and surgeries. We reached out to all of our friends to pray for complete healing over my dad's body. I literally texted everyone in my phone address book. We had started the year praying together every morning, not knowing what the year would bring. We started praying for my dad's health every day. We made the decision to pause our music careers to take care of my parents. I had no idea what that meant, what it would look like, or how we would pay for things, but I didn't think about it much — it was just a given. I'm their only child, my parents don't speak English very well, and they struggle to advocate for themselves and their health. I knew we had to get involved so my dad could receive the best treatment possible, as quickly as possible, before his cancer spread any further.

Greg and I started driving back and forth every week, from New York to Virginia, to take care of my parents. We drove down to Virginia during the week to take my dad to all of his appointments, and we drove back to New York over the weekends to recharge. We did this for seven months — from July to January. We also took care of their finances — since they had both lost their businesses and were unemployed because of COVID and now cancer, we set them up with social services and rental assistance.

At the end of August, after two months of undergoing three biopsies, my dad finally got the official diagnosis of Stage 3B Adenocarcinoma. He could finally receive treatment. He was set up with his oncologist, Dr. Neeta Ahuja. She showed us images of the tumors on his lung and lymph nodes. A week later, we drove him to Maryland and he had his port surgically placed into his chest. A week after that, he started receiving radiation at Virginia Hospital Center with radiation oncologist, Robert Hong. And a couple days later, on August 25 — Greg's 31st birthday — my dad started his first round of chemo.

From August to January, my dad completed two rounds of chemo — 12 infusions, once a week. He completed one round of radiation — 30 sessions, five times a week. And he is now in the process of doing one round of immunotherapy — 24 infusions every two weeks for a year, and he’s a little over halfway through.

In September, we were able to switch his insurance plan and move him back to INOVA so he could receive treatment at the Schar Cancer Institute. We wanted him to receive the best treatment possible so he had the best chance of beating his cancer.

Over the course of his cancer treatment, my dad suffered tremendously. He had to go to the ER twice. In December, he lost all of his hair. He broke out in a rash and had red bumps all over his head. He threw up. He couldn't eat. He had very little energy. He couldn’t sleep. He struggled to move from the severe bone pain he experienced from the chemo. There are no words that can accurately describe the pain of watching your strong, healthy dad suffer, deteriorate, and become weaker than you ever thought possible. Death felt uncomfortably close. It was an impossibly difficult time for all of us, especially my dad. We all fought really hard.

This past year has been one of the hardest years of my life. I wish our family never had to experience the excruciating pain that comes with cancer. At the same time, I’m incredibly grateful for the invaluable gifts that came through cancer.

The best thing God gave me through cancer was quality time with my parents. I got to spend so much time with them — time we wouldn’t have spent together otherwise. We made so many memories together, even in just the simple moments — driving to hospitals, sitting in parking lots, filling out forms, waiting in waiting rooms. We took my parents on a trip to West Virginia to celebrate my dad completing his first round of treatment.

I learned a lot of things about my family history that I had never known before. We had a lot of tough conversations. We healed a lot of old wounds. We cried and laughed a lot. We leaned on and supported each other. We formed an unbreakable bond. We found joy in the midst of our suffering — something I’ve never really experienced before. I learned how to ask for help from others. People sent us cards in the mail. Our friend Lizzy set up a gofundme for my dad and our community gave us over $10,000. People rallied around us.

Cancer was a curse, but it was also a strange gift.

God used cancer to bring my family closer together. God used cancer to grow us. God used cancer to teach us about life, love, faith, suffering, grace, ourselves, and so much more. God used cancer to give me a much deeper understanding of suffering. As I began speaking publicly about my family’s cancer journey, people began reaching out to me about their own family members who were also battling cancer or had passed away from cancer. It was like we were all a part of this club that none of us ever wanted to be a part of, but through our shared suffering, we could find collective strength, relief, and comfort. We didn’t have to suffer alone.

My dad still has cancer and his fight is still not over, but he's doing a lot better these days. He is a fighter. He goes golfing every day. He eats more than the average human. And he makes us laugh all the time. He’s still receiving treatment, but he’s stable and doing really well. I don't know what the future holds for my dad or our family, but I can only hope and pray for the best.

I wanted to share all of this here because I want to commemorate this past year. I want to mourn the tough year we've had, and I want to celebrate how far we've come. God has carried us through, and he will continue to carry us through the toughest times of our lives. He is making all things new, all the time, and he has made beautiful things grow in the depths of the darkest places. I know he is good. I know he is trustworthy. I know he is faithful. Over this last year, I have experienced the love of Christ in a way I have never experienced it before, and for that, I am incredibly grateful.