Ed Fisher

Not everyone gets as lucky as me. Cause I have a second chance dad. I say second chance, because my first, the biological one, didn’t work out. I was lucky enough to get a second chance.

Ed Fisher was never a stepdad, or just a dude banging my mom. From the first day, he was my dad. The big ol’ sasquatch taught me to question authority, to work harder then the guy next to you, and that sometimes all you can do is laugh, even when shits gets scary.

If not for my dad, you wouldn’t have Cocksucker. The book would never have happened. It came from years listening to him talk about his bigfoot encounters on camping trips when he was a kid. He let me watch Hellraiser when I was a little too young, and introduced me to Black Sabath and Blue Oyster Cult. If not for him, I wouldn’t be me. He gave me permission to be myself, and taught me I was worth defending.

Sasquatch are an endangered species, and he’s already one of a kind. The kinda guy can talk you through changing spark plugs on an ‘87 Pontiac LeMans or talk your head off on Army of Darkness.  

And he has cancer.

 I’m not normally someone who talks about my life outside of work or fiction. The people closest to me, I keep private because the internet is a creepy place. Things are dire. My family isn’t well and we’re doing everything we can to stay afloat.

 Here’s where we’re at.

Dad went into the hospital Sunday Sept 7th after lacerating his throat on pizza crust. He’d been having difficulties swallowing for some time, and his throat closed up. The laceration caused fluid to build in his chest, which required three drain tubes over two weeks, along with a battery of IV antibiotics. He’d developed a strep infection from the fluid.

Once doctors were able to give him anesthesia, because they didn’t want him to aspirate fluid with his major infection, they did an endoscopy and diagnosed him with smooth cell Esophageal Carcinoma, throat cancer. Dad doesn’t smoke, hasn’t for over thirty-two years. Here we are. Treatment for cancer was delayed while they cleared his chest infection. His first chemo was Oct 13th, where they installed his port and gave him his pump bag.

Treatment right now looks like 7 rounds of Chemo, after that a PET scan to see where we stand, then radiation and gene therapy. At the time of this letter, he’s been out of work for over two months. There’s more, but Mom wants to keep her situation private, and I thank everyone for their support in that.

Right now the only thing as scary as cancer is waiting for lot rent in January. I’m doing everything I can right now to support them. I haven’t stated it publicly, but all my Fight Nights pay, and book royalties have been going towards my parents groceries since this started. My brother, sister, and I are stretched thin. My aunt, dad’s sister, is a breast cancer survivor with more experience than us with GoFundMe, so she built one for dad.

I hate asking for handouts, so I’m going to ask you share this message. Share it with our author community, our horror friends, and our mutant family. If you can give, great, if not, share this.

There aren’t many sasquatch left, and I’m fighting hard to keep this one around as long as possible. I love you guys.