The Childhood Cancer Blog

What a Dad Does: Wisdom from Childhood Cancer Dads

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  • Mike Adkins, Dad to Lily, Chloe and Nicholas
  • Mike Fee, Dad to Andy
  • Tony Salerno, Dad to Tony and Sam
  • David Saenz, Dad to Arden and Alina
  • Gabe Stephens, Dad to Della
  • Nick Gilger, Dad to Edie and Kinsey
  • Colin and Owen, sons of Chris Seaman
  • Bill Fitzgerald, Dad to Cole, Maeve, and Maggie
  • Craig Boerlin, with grandson Nate
  • Brandon Issacs, Dad to Emilia, Lynnea, and Louie

By: Trish Adkins

On the way to the emergency room, just hours before we would learn our daughter had cancer, my husband Mike turned to me and said, “Whatever this is, we will be okay. Right? We will.”

Our daughter, Lily, was 14 months old, sitting rear-facing in the back seat. As she watched where we had been, Mike was driving us toward where we would go: the emergency room at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, the PICU, operating rooms, the oncology floor, Houston for proton radiation therapy, years of physical and occupational therapy, shunt failures, MRIs, and countless moments when we had to fight for our daughter—and teach her to fight for herself.

That's what a dad does. He walks straight into the storm. He tells bad dad jokes when no one feels like laughing. He fixes what seems impossible to fix. He holds families together while carrying worries he rarely says out loud.

I've always admired Mike for that. And over the years, I've come to admire the many other childhood cancer dads who have done the same.

This Father's Day, I asked several childhood cancer dads what advice they would give another dad whose child has just been diagnosed. Their answers were different, but one message appeared again and again: you do not have to be perfect, you do not have to have all the answers, and you do not have to carry everything alone.

You only have to keep showing up.

As my husband puts it: “Do everything you can, then do more, and then know you can never do what feels like enough—but find grace for yourself.”

These dads have done more than enough. Their wisdom is a reminder that while childhood cancer changes everything, you do not have to have all the answers. You just have to keep showing up for your child and your family, one day at a time.

Take It One Day at a Time

“I don’t have all the answers, but here’s the one thing I’d tell a dad whose child was just diagnosed with cancer: Right now, everything probably feels overwhelming. It may feel like your family’s entire story has suddenly become cancer.

What I learned over time is that cancer becomes part of the story, but it doesn’t become the whole story. Your child is still your child. They’ll still laugh, play, make you proud, drive you crazy, and find ways to bring joy into days that feel impossible to get through. There will be hard days. Some will be brutal. But there will be good days too.

In those first days, I felt like I needed to figure everything out at once. The truth is, you don’t. You don’t need to know how you’re going to get through the next year. You don’t even need to know how you’re going to get through next week. Just get through today. Get through the appointment, the phone call, the scan, the treatment, or whatever is right in front of you. Then wake up tomorrow and do the same thing again.

When people offer help, let them. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own.

Most of all, it’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to not have the right words or know what comes next. Just keep showing up for your child and your family, one day at a time. That is enough.”

-Mike Fee, dad to Andy

“Take it one day at a time and remember that you can only make decisions with the data you have available right now—do your best with what you know. In the middle of it all, focus on being truly present and find a reason to laugh together every single day. Some days will be great and some will be horrible, but use each one the best you can, and always do everything you can to keep your patient feeling like a kid."

-Tony Salerno, dad to Tony and Sam

You Don’t Have to Carry It Alone

“If I could tell a father one thing after his child is diagnosed with cancer, it would be this: you can be the father your child needs, but you do not have to carry the burden alone.

Lean on the people who love your child and your family. Let them be part of the journey. At the same time, never underestimate the impact you can have by making even the smallest moments meaningful. Be the one who holds them close, makes them laugh, listens when they're scared, and reminds them how deeply they are loved. Your strength helps build their strength.

There will be difficult moments, but there will also be moments of joy, hope, and little miracles along the way. Hold on to those. Stay positive when you can, be honest when you need to be, and never stop believing that better days are possible.”

-David Saenz, dad to Arden and Alina

Finding out your child has a cancer diagnosis is the worst news any parent can receive. As a father, there are a lot of complicated emotions because not only do you want to do everything in the world that you can to keep your child safe, but at the same time you are also wanting to balance feeling helpful, while keeping your partner safe and supporting them as much as possible. In the end, the advice that I would give any father who is recently in this position would be to understand that you can’t be everything all at once and that whatever you’re doing is “enough.”

Remember to take care of yourself and rest when you can, and don’t be afraid to ask neighbors and friends for help when it comes to things that matter the least like home maintenance, chores, etc. In the spirit of asking for help, I also recommend reaching out to friends for that much needed time to decompress, be distracted, and recharge for when you’ll need it most. 

Lastly, there are parts of treatment that are going to be incredibly heavy and will require you both to take on responsibilities that you didn’t anticipate. I recommend “leaning in” to these moments - take in as much information as you can, and play as active a role as you feel you are able. When the dust settled, I found that these moments provided a lot of strength and comfort, and reminded me that I could be helpful, even when the situation felt very helpless.” 

-Gabe Stephens, dad to Della

Take Care of Yourself Too
“If I could tell a father one thing after his child is diagnosed with cancer, it would be to hold on to faith and trust the doctors and care team helping your child. There will be difficult days, and it’s easy to focus every ounce of energy on the diagnosis, but don’t forget to take care of yourself and the rest of your family as well. Your child needs you to be strong, and that means making time to rest, accept help, and lean on those around you. Take things one day at a time, celebrate the small victories, and remember that hope is a powerful thing.”

-Nick Gilger, dad to Edie and Kinsey

“Pediatric cancer is a marathon, not a sprint. And it’s one where you don’t necessarily know in advance when you’ll reach the finish line. Take care of yourself during the journey so you can help take care of your child and rest of your family. (Sometimes this is easier said than done!)”

-Chris Seaman, dad to Colin and Owen 

Learn, Ask Questions, Advocate, and Brave On

“There will be an unimaginable amount of information to learn. There will also be an unimaginable amount of stress and difficult emotions. Pain, worry, guilt, anger and quite possibly heartbreak and grief. Don't lash out or fall into destructive behaviors. Don't shy away physically or emotionally. You got this dad. And those times when you think you don't, either ask for help (talk to the hospital social worker) OR buckle up and find a way to brave on.”

- Bill Fitzgerald, dad to Cole, Maggie and Maeve

“We never knew Nate had terminal brain cancer util three months after he died. This is hard because we didn’t know the severity of it all. Perhaps expect the unexpected. Learn. Read. Ask lots of questions to anyone who is part of the medical team. “

-Craig Boerlin, dad to Nate, Alaina, Miles, and Maria. Grandfather to little Nate. 

One piece of advice I would give to dads would be to find your voice. The more questions you ask and the more information you obtain, especially when first receiving a diagnosis, can help so much adjusting to the treatment. Some level of predictability can be very valuable and helpful.  If it’s not in your nature to speak up or be assertive, find your voice anyway because it really helps.

Another piece of advice I’d give specifically to dads would be to ask for help. Even if you don’t think you need help, consider asking for help anyway. Many dads have the urge to try and fix the problem, whatever the problem is, and to fix it alone. That’s a mistake. When getting a diagnosis you have to ask for help from family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, medical professionals from the hospital, anyone. Being overtired or overly stressed out does not help the dad or the child who is receiving treatment. It is definitely not a time to be proud or stubborn after receiving a cancer diagnosis.

One last piece of advice is to communicate with your partner as much as possible, and don’t leave things unsaid. If there is a problem, address it with your partner.

-Brandon Issacs, dad to Emilia, Lynnea, and Louie

Embrace the Whole Journey

“Do the research and keep asking questions. Hold your family tight and embrace the joy of dad jokes. There is hope. While nothing will ever be the same that’s ok; you got this. Your worry and pain are real. Try everything, pray, meditate, listen to music real loud, read a book, go for a walk, try to sleep, ask for help. Cry, sob, lose it. Maybe do it alone or make a scene. Find the joy in free ginger ale, little juices, and Lorna Doone cookies. Fight for your child, and your family. Look for a miracle and realize that it’s not impossible. The odds are in your favor. Embrace the suck. Take the night shift and watch the entire game on what feels like the smallest TV, in the worst chair, likely with no speaker. Be ridiculous and live in the moment for yourself and your child.”

-Mike Adkins, dad to Lily, Chloe, and Nicholas 

Happy Father's Day to all the childhood cancer hero dads, who show up every day.