Update on Dad - July 7, 2026

Jul 07, 2026

I wanted to share a current update on my dad, my mom, and where things stand.

Dad is now five months out from his double lung transplant at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. He remains in the ICU and is still critically ill. He is still on a ventilator through his trach, still requiring dialysis support, still dealing with infection concerns, severe weakness/deconditioning, delirium/mental-status changes, and a serious pressure wound. His course has been unimaginably complicated, with setbacks that seem to come every time we hope for a step forward.

The transplant and ICU teams have told us they still believe there is hope, and we are trying with everything in us to hold onto that. At the same time, we are also trying to understand what “hope” realistically means for Dad. Our biggest concern is making sure his care stays aligned with what he would want — not just keeping him alive, but giving him a real chance at a life he would recognize as meaningful. Dad would want to be home, with his family, able to interact, communicate, move, and have some level of independence again. That is the standard we are trying to keep centered in every conversation.

Because of that, we recently asked for palliative care to become involved — not because we are giving up, and not because we are changing his code status or stopping treatment. We asked because this situation is too complex and too heavy for our family to carry without additional support. Their role is to help with symptom burden, communication, family support, and making sure Dad’s goals and values stay part of the medical decision-making.

My mom has been by Dad’s side constantly. She has spent hours holding his hand, comforting him, helping with the small personal care things that matter, and being his person through all of this. She is exhausted, emotionally and physically, but she has not stopped showing up for him.

I have been traveling back and forth between New York, New Hampshire, and Boston while trying to keep working, support my wife and kids, help my mom, understand Dad’s medical course, ask the right questions, and advocate for him as best I can. This past week has been one of the hardest of the entire hospitalization. We are trying to stay strong, but the emotional, financial, and logistical toll is enormous.

On top of everything, there is now a planned nursing strike at Brigham. I want to be very clear: we fully support the nurses. The nurses caring for Dad have been exceptional. They have helped keep him alive, and many of them know the small details of his care that matter so much — how he communicates, how he tolerates turns, dialysis, ventilator changes, wound care, and when something seems off. For a patient as complex as Dad, nursing continuity is not just comforting; it is part of patient safety. We are terrified of what any disruption could mean, while also believing strongly that these nurses deserve to be supported and valued.

Right now, we are continuing to fight for Dad. We are continuing to ask hard questions. We are continuing to hope. But we are also trying to be honest about how serious this is and how much support our family still needs.

Every donation, share, message, prayer, and kind word has helped more than I can explain. The support has helped with travel, lodging, food, gas, time away from work, and the countless unexpected costs that come with trying to keep a family present during a prolonged ICU crisis. More than that, it has reminded us that we are not carrying this completely alone.

Thank you for loving Dad, for supporting my mom, and for helping our family keep showing up for him.

We are not giving up. We are just tired, scared, and trying to do right by him every single day.

With so much love and gratitude,

Peter 💙

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