Father's Day

So.

My dad's cancer is back. And it's spread.

I haven't told many people yet, but Les keeps saying I need to talk about it more. Let it out.

And she's right.

I guess by posting it here, I'm telling everyone and no one at once.

It's a start.

The situation isn't great but the doctors are optimistic and the Cernies are fighters. We've beaten cancer before and we'll do it again.

To help in the battle, they've put my dad back on bi-weekly chemo, and we're trying to optimize family time while he fights: his birthday next month, a vacation in August, and Father's Day just this past weekend.

So after Friday's PMC Fundraiser (thank you again to all who came out) I jumped on a train and headed back home.

If you don't know my parents, they have a somewhat unique relationship. As my dad recently put it (and he meant this lovingly, I swear): he's the logical half of the couple to my mom's illogical side. The Jack to her Locke (pre-Smoke Monster), if you will. A constant source of conflict, to be sure, but a much needed balance that's not easy to find.

In keeping with their relationship's constant back and forth, I came home to find my mom - a nurse who has studied Reiki and references her "energy healer" in conversation without batting an eye - trying to convince my dad - a by-the-book doctor - that a complete natural overhaul of his diet was integral to a smooth recovery.

Not surprisingly, my dad was resisting. And I don't blame him- if I was already being subjected to chemo, I wouldn't exactly be in a hurry to give up little pleasures like a beer with my dinner or a steak when I go out. But my mom wasn't giving up, and while he was out running errands, she showed me the spices and oils she'd been slipping in his food based on tips from countless cancer-related books she's read since he was first diagnosed.

She's happy to do this for him, but as we sat down to play Mexican Train Dominoes (a game my dad insisted we try after learning Ashton Kutcher is internationally ranked - "if that guy can do it, anyone can"), I looked at my dad - exhausted from chemo - and my mom - exhausted from worry - and decided that reinforcement was needed.


If my dad's gotta drastically change what he eats, why should he do it alone? Actually, I'm happy to join him in this endeavor. When Les's mom had cancer, she went all natural with incredible success, so I totally believe it's every bit as important as the more mainstream solutions out there. Plus, I'm not gonna lie, our growing family history of cancer incidents has me a little concerned about what lies down the road for myself. There's really nothing to lose, far as I can tell.

Before I rode back to Boston, my mom loaded me up with a sampling of vitamins, herbs and books, and by my dad's birthday next month I am determined to be well on my way to joining him in this lifestlye change.


So as soon as I finish the last fork-fulls of leftover Chinese food that I'm currently savoring, I'm starting a fresh page in our family's medical history.

Like I said earlier, the Cernies are fighters. So listen very carefully, cancer: We're gonna punch you right in the FACE. You hear me? In the face.