Father, fisherman lived for family, ocean
Daughter used writing to cope during dad’s year-long battle with lung cancer
Man Lun Cheung had a great sense of humour but didn’t like being the centre of attention. Even on his 60th birthday on Feb. 9, with his wife, children, nieces, and nephews gathered at his Whitby home to eat pecan and blueberry pies, the event was not a big deal for him.
Everyone in attendance, including Cheung himself, suspected this day would be his last birthday.
On April15 at1:38 a.m., Cheung died of lung cancer. “It was the worst thing that had ever happened to me,” said his daughter, Crystal, one of four family members with Cheung when he died in hospital.
Once back at her parents’ home, she wasn’t tired at all. “It hadn’t really set in. I didn’t feel it right away,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to forget it.” So she wrote about the experience.
Starting at about 3 a.m., Crystal used her thumbs on her smartphone to detail her father’s seven-month battle with cancer.
By the time she fell asleep at 4:30 a.m., Crystal, 30, had written almost 3,500 words, many more than she had expected to write. A few days later, she posted the text online so that family and friends would know exactly what her father had gone through — his three hospital stays, radiation, chemotherapy, MRIs, Xrays, CT scans, and more:
My father’s battle with cancer was, statistically, inevitable. With his mother beating breast cancer, his father (RIP) being claimed by stomach cancer that had metastasized, and his 30-plus years of smoking, we should have known. Man Lun Cheung was born in Hong Kong in1955, the eldest of three boys. He moved to Canada at age 17 to study biology at the University of Guelph. He loved animals, nature and the ocean.
He also loved travelling and eating, making a Caribbean cruise a natural fit. Last August, a month after visiting Hong Kong to bury his 90-year- old father, Cheung drove to Florida with his family to board a ship for a seven-day cruise.
Cheung had been feeling discomfort in his shoulders and back for almost five years but assumed the aches were caused by his 14-hour days driving an 18-wheeler across North America. The pain turned out to be cancer.
Less than two weeks after our return from Florida, at dim sum, my father had to use a cane. I had never seen him so vulnerable or weak in my life. He left the table early so he could be back home where he was more comfortable. As soon as he left, I broke down in tears. This was going to be a hard fight.
Cheung married in his early 20s, had a daughter, then soon divorced. He met his future wife, Alice, in 1982, and travelled extensively with her before they started a family. Within a span of eight years, they had three daughters, starting with Crystal, and then a son.
Before becoming a truck driver in the early 2000s, Cheung co-owned a stall at a jewelry exchange across Yonge Street from the Eaton Centre. He had previously worked in a pickle factory, a job he described as one of his worst.
Cheung’s first hospital stay started on the Thanksgiving weekend. He returned home about three weeks later, but things didn’t work out very well. He ended up back in hospital in early November. Two days later, his condition took a turn for the worse.
On November 13th, I was at work and my nightmare came true. I was told to rush home. The tears just fell from my face. (Crystal’s boyfriend) Richard drove with me and at 22:30 I received a phone call and just heard panic. My dad felt like he was suffocating and we said our goodbyes. I told him I loved him, never thinking I’d hear his voice again.
When Crystal arrived at the hospital in Oshawa, doctors had already inserted a ventilator and feeding tube, and her father was heavily sedated. Cheung’s two brothers and an aunt rushed to the GTA from Hong Kong.
A week later, Cheung’s oxygen levels improved dramatically, enough for doctors to remove his ventilator. Cheung gradually regained his strength and his ability to talk.
Dad wanted to know if there was a chance to beat this even though he was in terrible shape. The doctor said there was always a chance. He was realistic but optimistic. He commented how far my dad had come and how dad always had so much family surrounding him and dad broke down saying he had too much support to not even try. Two days before Christmas, Cheung was well enough to return home. The family thoroughly cleaned the house, bought an air purifier, and sent their two cats to Crystal’s home in Little Italy. The living room was turned into a bedroom, complete with hospital bed, commode and wheelchair.
Crystal spent at least two days and nights in Whitby each week as the family settled into a routine.
Dad would watch the stock markets and we would watch stupid movies. He always saved the game shows for me to watch. He watched The Bachelor if we asked. He just enjoyed our company. I stayed on the couch in my father’s room. He snored a lot but so did I. Our slumber parties were the best.
Cheung’s condition worsened in early April and he left home by ambulance for the final time. After speaking with his oncologist, he opted for palliative care. Since there were no available beds, his treatment continued in the intensive care ward.
The few days before moving to palliative, dad was the same man. He joked and laughed and listened to our stories. I asked if he was ready or scared and he said he was ready but not scared. He knew he would go when he was ready.
Cheung died just two days into palliative care and right after taking his two deepest breaths in weeks, with his wife and three of his daughters by his side.
The entire experience, Crystal said, brought her family closer together than ever before. And writing about her father’s illness helped her deal with the tragedy. Two cousins who had last seen her father during his first hospital visit were overcome with emotion when they read her post, she said. They hadn’t realized the extent of his suffering. Two neighbours told her they were touched by what she had written.
Cheung leaves behind his mother and two brothers in Hong Kong, and his wife and five children in Ontario.