Dear weird red squiggly stuff inside my bones,
I know we don’t sit down and talk very often (or ever, come to think). I know you probably feel neglected. I know that recently, we’ve had a pretty rocky relationship: me, falling off of ladders, you, refusing to fight off infections every time I go on vacation.
But for the most part, it’s been good, right? Twenty-seven years of relatively pleasant symbiosis? I gotta ask you for something pretty huge, and I hope that our shared history is enough for you to acquiesce.
I’m gonna need you to let some doctors suck you out through my hip bones so you can go live inside my dad.
I know it sounds weird. But it’s for a really good cause! He really needs my (your) help right now, and if you do this for me (us) I promise to take better care of you. I won’t drink that last beer when I’ve already had enough. I’ll eat more oranges and kale. I’ll even go running more, if that’s what you want.
All he needs is for you to go in there and do what you’ve been doing in me. Get all up in his immune system and go all Rambo on those Leukemia cells. Give him back his energy and life. Give the whole family renewed hope.
That’s all. I ask nothing more than for you to do your job somewhere else for a little bit. Think of it as getting to travel for work. All of the airfare and accommodations are covered, you just have to show up for the meetings.
On January 18, when you’re making that trip down the hall at Hopkins, remember this letter. If you won’t do it for me, do it for him. Do it because he deserves this for being a great man and a great father. Do it because he deserves a life free from the worries and weight of cancer. Do it because I still have so much left to learn from him and I want him around to see me become a man he’s proud of.
Do it because the world needs more people like him. More people full of optimism and humor, more people willing to face a challenge with a smile and a laugh, more people who rise to a challenge and beat it back with fierce determination.
Do it because I love him.
Yours, literally,
-Oliver
Do it, because, and I quote my dad, ““During your teenage years you were a pain in the ass. Now I get to be a pain in yours.”
Tagged: bone marrow, bone marrow donation, bones, cancer, dad, father, Johns Hopkins, leukemia, open letter, pep talk
oliver … you are indeed as special as your dad … and your mom!
My mom deserves a medal too, if only for being an amazing support for two people as crazy as me and my dad!
Wishing you both good luck and good health on this journey.
Hey there old roommate from years ago,
I’m very sorry to hear about your dad. I know he must be very proud of you. I’ve been subscribed to your blog for a while now and you really are a great writer. I always enjoy reading your stuff. I hope you and your dad have a very speedy recovery so that you can write about your victory. Maybe even demonstrate with Legos how it went down. Or maybe a ninjas on a beer can castle 🙂
Wishing you both the best. David
Dave! Thanks for reading, I’m glad that we can sort of indirectly keep in touch. Maybe a Lego reenactment isn’t such a bad idea…
Thank you so much.
Wow, good luck to you and your dad. You are doing a great thing for him!
Thank you for your wishes!
Judging by the way you turned out, your dad really must be something special. Good wishes to you both.
That means a lot Megan, really. Thanks so much for your wishes.
Who keeps cutting those damned onions?! Well written Oliver and I wish you both the best of luck. I’m sure that squiggly stuff will perform it’s duty well when it embarks on U.S.S. Dad.
Well put, Phil. Thanks. Oh, and it was me with the onions. And garlic. And shallots. I have a problem.
Wow, talk about tugging at the heartstrings! I’m honored to have “met” you, Oliver. I wish you and your dad all the good health and thousands of pub days you both so richly deserve!
We’ll cheers one to you when we’re both up and healthy again!
Great quote from your dad…classic! May there be many, many more in the years to come.
Thanks! He’s full of great quotes. Just one of many reasons I want him to stick around 🙂
Oliver, I didn’t make it through this post without waterworks but WOW – what an amazing gift you are giving to your Dad…..sending love and light to the both of you.
Thanks for the love. Definitely appreciated.
Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER and commented:
Something you do for your Dad—Jonathan Caswell
i ma so moved by ur blog that i literally re-read it again…and i dont do that very often..
my prayers generally turn true and Oliver, i swear i shall pray for ur dad…i myself share a very deep bond with my dad and this post made me smile and cry together…u r a wonderful man and ur dad must be so proud as are all ur readers..
good luck and we all pray for ur dad to have a speedy recovery..
Thank you for your kind words. I’m sure I’ll have good news to report soon.
yep..keep us all posted:)
Nice one, Oliver!
When you write something with such an interesting title, I just had to click it and read. Wishing for your dad’s swift recovery!
Haha, I obsess over my titles, so I’m glad it caught your eye. Thanks for the kind words!
Do it because they’re both handsome lads!
😉
Prayers and best wishes for a successful transplant and a swift recovery.
This is beautiful Oliver (fights back sniffles). Best to your family, what a wonderful bunch you all must be! (sometimes Yoda speaks passively through my internet voice) See you soon-Aimee
I stop by your blog periodically and have always been impressed by your writing, but this piece stands alone for its honesty, its vulnerability, and the sheer depth of your love. Stay strong, all of you.
Two handsome looking men, I hope everything works out great for both of you.