Cancer should have killed this single dad from Narberth years ago. He holds on for his daughter.

Doctors can’t give Chris Balch a prognosis for his disease. They just say, “We don’t know why you’re still living.”

That’s not helpful to Balch, 61, of Narberth, a single dad who’s battling Stage IV kidney cancer that’s spread to his lungs. He’d like at least a rough ETA on death, he says, because his entire existence has boiled down to a single plan: “Stay alive long enough to get my 9-year-old daughter into college.”

That goal isn’t being made any easier by Balch’s inability to work because of his disease and a pile of expenses that could lead to him losing his home: Balch takes in $1,089 a month in SSI (federal disability payments) while his rent is $1,475. “Family and friends help, but you come up short,” Balch said. “Physically and financially, cancer knocked the s- out of me.”

A staunch Catholic, Balch will nevertheless “be a star” in the Philadelphia Jewish Relief Agency’s fundraising video to be screened at the nonprofit’s annual gala on Wednesday, according to Alex Schneider, the agency’s social worker. The JRA serves around 6,000 low-income individuals in the Philadelphia area. It’s contributed money and food to Balch.

“We’re making him the face of our fundraising campaign,” Schneider said. “Chris is a charismatic, hardworking, humble man in an impossible situation.

“Mom’s not in the picture, and he’s got so little money. It’s an amazing struggle of a person doing anything he can to live for his daughter.”

At the same time, Balch’s daughter, whom he doesn’t want named, is doing everything a fourth grader can for her father. She pleads for his life in her 7:55 p.m. prayers before lights out at 8 o’clock. And in her letter to Santa this year, she’s eschewing presents, writing instead, “I need something that can’t be gifted under the tree can you please heal my dad canser please thank you.”

One of five siblings, Balch grew up rebellious and difficult in Narberth: “I thought everything was settled with fists.”

After graduating from Harriton High School in 1980, he attended St. Joseph’s University shortly before dropping out and working as a manager of area restaurants and clubs.

Restless, Balch joined his brother in the Florida Keys in 2005, snagging crawfish on fishing boats. After four years, he returned to running restaurants, this time in the Marathon, Fla., area. Balch was making $90,000 annually, owned a boat, and was renting a roomy home with the Gulf of Mexico in the backyard. He’d met and became engaged to a woman with whom he shared a daughter.

Life changed fast and forever on Sept. 10, 2017, when Hurricane Irma destroyed the house, which Balch offered to rebuild for his landlord.

When the work was nearly done eight months later, Balch felt a sharp pain on his right side, and he could barely breathe.

On June 11, 2018, his doctor said that Balch was full of cancer — a large tumor that was squeezing his right kidney and 13 tumors on his lungs.

He remembers the conversation that followed:

“OK,” said Balch, the Harriton kid ready to fight. “What do we do next?”

“Nothing,” the doctor said. “You have maybe a week.”

“Till what, chemo?” Balch asked.

“No,” the doctor responded. “That’s all the time you have to live.”

No drugs, no radiation, no response? Balch wondered.

“Are you scared to kill the grass you’re gonna bury me under?” Balch yelled. “What have I got to lose?”

The doctor reacted, administering two chemotherapy drugs simultaneously. Toxicity was off the charts: Balch’s hair temporarily turned white as he lost 100 pounds. One of the drugs was eliminated.

Later in 2018, Balch and his family moved back to Narberth.

Doctors here were as stumped by his longevity as the Florida oncologists were. Then, three of the lung tumors disappeared; the other 10 were reduced by 45%. The kidney tumor remained unchanged.

But by 2020, the lung tumors started regrowing. New drugs were administered, halting the enlargement. Last May, doctors removed the kidney, thinking the cancer was gone. But, they found some living cells, meaning that cancer can still spread.

Recently, doctors discovered a nodule on Balch’s left kidney, and his lungs continually fill with fluid. Next week, Balch has more tests to learn whether he can continue to confound medical science for the sake of his daughter.

Like so many people fighting cancer, Balch suffers from his treatment.

One of the roughly 12 drugs he takes causes severe joint pain, for which he takes 120 mgs of morphine a day, a very high dosage.

Balch and his daughter live in a house filled with medicine bottles, along with religious objects, and the 9-year-old’s schoolwork hung on the walls. “I can do hard things,” a page from her workbook says.

Before his surgery, Balch said, his fiancé left.

Even with help, Balch said he can barely buy toilet paper and the conditioner requested by his daughter, now at an age when she’s become more cognizant of her appearance.

“Sometimes, she wants things,” Balch said. “And she just needs stuff like the internet for the Chromebook the school gives her.”

Once, she asked to go to Disneyworld, an impossibility. But family members have hosted her and Balch at the Jersey Shore in the summer. “We take our joy where we can,” he said. “My family’s incredible.”

Balch’s daughter made him promise to live to be 110. For her part, he said, she vowed to become a surgeon “to get that stuff out of me and other people.”

Living until his daughter wields a scalpel is a stretch, Balch acknowledges. But the girl’s acceptance into college — nine years from now — maybe that could happen.

“To get there, I need attitude,” said Balch the battler. “When mine fades, I look at my daughter and I keep fighting this evil thing.

“What else can I do?”

Staff writer Ryan Briggs contributed to this article.