My Father’s Heroics Cost Me My Treatment

On Christmas Eve, my father was named one of the ten most inspirational people of the year. He’d donated the entirety of his $300,000 Hero of the Year prize to the son of a fallen comrade. The host asked him, “Captain Kane, we heard your own daughter is also seriously ill. Wasn’t this money her last hope?” My father hugged the boy, Jake, and faced the entire nation with tears in his eyes. “It’s true that my daughter needs this money to live,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But Jake… Jake doesn’t have a father anymore. My daughter, at least she still has me. I know she’ll understand and support my decision.” On the television, thunderous applause elevated him to sainthood. Meanwhile, in the cold sterility of my hospital isolation ward, I stared at the bright red “BALANCE INSUFFICIENT: MEDICATION HALTED” stamp on my bill and calmly dialed the number for a national news outlet. “Want to see the other side of a hero?” I asked. “I’ll give you a live feed.” … The head nurse came in just as I was finishing the last of my nutrient drip. I pulled the needle out, and a single bead of blood welled up. I pressed it with a cotton swab. “Anna, your mother’s not answering her phone. Where’s your father? If this bill isn’t paid today, we’ll have no choice but to stop your treatment.” I managed a weak smile, my lips cracked and dry, and pointed to the television mounted on the wall. “He’s a little busy. It’s a live national broadcast.” On the screen, my father, David Kane, was holding Jake, telling the cameras his three-year story of atonement. He painted Jake as a fragile, sensitive soul who needed the world’s protection. And me? In his story, I was the understanding, strong daughter who supported her father’s every noble decision. The nurse followed my gaze and froze. “Captain Kane? The hero? That’s your father?” “The one and only. An inspiration to the nation.” She seemed star-struck, forgetting about the bill for a moment. “Your father is a hero. That’s incredible,” she said, trying to comfort me. “You have to be understanding. The pressure on him must be immense. Look how good he is to his comrade’s son. He must be even better to you.” I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the red overdue bill from my nightstand toward her. “Balance insufficient. Seventy-eight thousand dollars in arrears. If the money for the specialty drug doesn’t arrive today, the infection will cause multiple organ failure.” The nurse picked up the bill, glanced at the television where the eloquent hero was speaking, and then back at me. The world probably seemed surreal to her in that moment. “Doesn’t… doesn’t he know?” “He knows.” How could he not? An hour ago, my mother had called him over thirty times. He didn’t answer once. I sent him one last text. 【Dad, I can’t hold on. The doctors say if I don’t get the medicine, I’m going to die.】 He finally replied. 【Anna, I’m on the show. So proud of how understanding you are. The whole country is praising you. Hang in there.】 I held the phone up for the nurse to see. “That’s… that’s impossible! He’s a hero!” “Yes,” I repeated. “He’s a hero. And a hero’s daughter should make way for her father’s honor, right?” On the TV, the host presented a giant red envelope. “Captain Kane, this is your $300,000 Hero of the Year prize! We all know how crucial this money is for your daughter’s illness!” My father didn’t take it. He pushed Jake forward and announced, “I’ve decided to donate the entire sum to the son of my fallen brother, Captain Miller!” The studio erupted. My father held Jake, crying like a child. Jake wiped away his own tears, moved by the gesture. It was a portrait of profound fatherly love, a moment to inspire a nation. The nurse stared at me, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. I smiled at her. Then, right in front of her, I picked up the phone from under my pillow. Unlock. Dial. The call connected almost immediately. A man’s voice, irritated at being disturbed on Christmas Eve, answered. “Hello? Who is this? Do you know what number you’ve called?” “Hello, is this Mr. Davis from ‘The Davis Report’?” “This is he. Do you have a news tip?” His professional instincts kicked in. I looked at my father’s glorious, noble face on the screen. “Want to see the other side of the hero, David Kane?” “I’ll give you a live feed.” Three years ago, I wasn’t this ghost. I had just been diagnosed with stage-two leukemia. The doctors said the cure rate was high. My mother held my hand, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. My father was the calm one, patting her back. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. It’s just money, right? I’ll work myself to the bone to earn it. We will cure our Anna.” And for that first year, he did. He took every shift, every dangerous call, earning several commendations. Until the chemical plant fire. My father was the first commander on the scene. Captain Miller was his second. When the explosion happened, my father ordered Captain Miller’s team to brace a collapsing support wall while he ran to save a child crying in a corner. He saved the child. Captain Miller never came out. From that day on, everything changed. My father became a hero who had saved a life, but in his own mind, he became the sinner who had killed his best friend. He started having sleepless nights, clutching Captain Miller’s photo and weeping. Then, he channeled all that guilt into a bottomless well of compensation for Jake. Jake. The child he’d rescued. Captain Miller’s only son. I remember it so clearly. The doctor told us they’d found a bone marrow match in a neighboring city. All my dad had to do was go handle the paperwork, and the transplant could be scheduled for the following week. It was my best chance at a full recovery. My mom was so excited she could barely speak. But my dad was silent. “What’s wrong, David? Aren’t you happy?” my mom asked, confused. “It’s not that… Jake’s school has a camping trip tomorrow. To the beach. He’s been wanting me to go with him. He just lost his dad. I promised Miller I’d take care of his boy.” The smile froze on my mother’s face. “A camping trip can happen anytime! Is playing with him more important than your daughter’s life?” “How can you say that! Anna’s illness can wait, but Jake’s trauma can’t! He needs me more than she does right now! Don’t you understand?” “No, I don’t! All I know is that my daughter is dying!” my mom screamed, breaking down. “Can’t you just try to see it from my side!” My father punched the wall, plaster dust showering down. “I owe Miller a life! Every time I close my eyes, I see him crushed under that wall! If I don’t do right by his son, I’ll never be able to live with myself!” It was the first time I’d ever seen him so hysterical. In the end, he went. He drove off with a car full of snacks and a brand-new tent to watch the sunrise with Jake. My mom cried in the hospital hallway all night. A week later, the hospital informed us that the bone marrow donor had backed out for family reasons. The perfect window for my transplant had closed. My dad came back from the beach, tanned and wearing a seashell necklace. He held it out to me, his face a mask of apology. “Anna, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here. Look, Jake made this for you. Isn’t it pretty?” I didn’t take it. I just asked him, “Dad, if it were Jake lying here in this bed, would you have gone camping with me?” He stared at me, stunned, and then his face contorted with rage. “How can you even think that? You’re being so selfish!” From that day on, my condition began to worsen. And the label of “selfish” was stuck firmly to me. The worst fight was over a house. My constant chemotherapy had drained our savings. My mother, an accountant at a large corporation for thirty years, had managed to save $500,000, a nest egg for my eventual bone marrow transplant. One day, Captain Miller’s widow, Mrs. Miller, showed up at our door, looking hesitant. “David, I’m so sorry to bother you again.” My dad jumped to his feet. “Sarah, what is it? Is something wrong with Jake?” “Oh no, it’s about his schooling. He’s starting middle school soon, and the school in our district isn’t very good. I was just thinking… maybe… maybe we could get him a place downtown, in a better school district.” My dad immediately puffed out his chest. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Sarah. Leave it to me!” Mrs. Miller’s face lit up. “I knew I could count on you, David! I’ve already looked at a condo in the Academy Square building. It’s just a bit pricey. The down payment… it’s $500,000.” My mother was in the kitchen cutting fruit. Her hand slipped, and the knife clattered to the floor. She rushed out, blocking my father’s path. “David! Are you insane? Where are we going to get that kind of money?” “What do you mean?” he shot back, glaring at her. “You have it.” My mother stared at him in disbelief. “That’s Anna’s life savings! For her treatment! Don’t you dare touch it!” “Why are you so selfish!” he roared. “Anna’s treatment can be managed! Jake’s education is critical! What if we ruin his entire future? How could I face Miller in the afterlife?” “Face him? You’re going to use your own daughter’s life to face him?” My mother was shaking with rage. “He’s not a stranger! He’s Miller’s only son! God, you are such a heartless woman! Miller died for me! What’s wrong with me buying his son a house? I owe him this!” “You don’t owe him! It was an accident! Stop using that as an excuse!” “You don’t know anything!” He shoved my mom aside, stormed into the bedroom, and came out with the bank card that held the $500,000. My mother scrambled up from the floor and clung to his leg, sobbing. “David, I’m begging you, you can’t take this money! Anna will die! She’ll really die!” “Die, die, die! That’s all you ever say, like you’re cursing her!” He kicked her away. “Let me tell you something. Even if something does happen to Anna, that would be her fate! She should consider it an honor to help her father atone!” He slammed the door and was gone. Mrs. Miller, who had been standing in the doorway, stepped inside to help my mother up. “Now, now, don’t blame David. He’s just trying to do right by us. Don’t worry, when my Jake grows up and makes something of himself, he’ll never forget what you did for him.” And so, Jake got his condo in the best school district in the city. And I, without the funds for more effective treatment, went from stage two to stage four. The doctor said my remaining time was to be measured in months. The day my father came home with the deed to Jake’s new home, my mother asked for a divorce. He just tore the papers into shreds. “Don’t be ridiculous. Think of my reputation. David Kane can’t have ‘divorced’ next to his name.” On Christmas Eve, my fever spiked, and a severe lung infection set in. The doctor issued a critical condition notice. A drug called Gleevec was my only chance, but a single injection cost $20,000, and the follow-up treatment was a bottomless pit of expenses. My mother knelt in the doctor’s office, her cries echoing in the hallway. “Doctor, please, just give us a few more days! Her father’s prize money is coming through! It’s $300,000! It’s more than enough!” That prize was my last hope.