No fat people in chemotherapy

My dad continues to struggle to get down any nourishment. He knows he needs to eat to survive so he forces himself to do it. But he only eats very little bits- one egg and one piece of toast seems like a lot to him. Chemotherapy doses are based on height and weight so the doctor doesn't want him to lose much weight. He has warned Dad that most people with cancer who die do so from malnourishment, not from cancer or the treatment itself. Chemotherapy is the best we can do to fight this menace to mankind. But it works by getting really close to killing the patient along with the cancer cells. I know Dad is doing his very best. I find myself caring so much that I have to fight the urge to desperately take in extra calories as a proxy! But at the same time, as I try to empathize in an effort to imagine what might possibly be easier for him to eat, sometimes I almost feel sick to my stomach. It's pretty crazy. More and more I look forward to the day when there will no longer be suffering and mourning. There will be no more suicide bombings. There will be no cancer or AIDS. There will be no child abuse or rape. This "enduring to the end" is pretty hard, especially when we have no idea when "the end" will be. Our son finished his earthly sojourn at 28 years of age. My grandmother wondered how much longer she would have to go when she was 93. We all have a different journey here on the earth. The challenge is to journey well so we can feel content with leaving this part and going on to the next.