*sigh*

Well, as expected, today was not a Good Day .

Mum's visit to the oncologist revealed that the three cycles of chemotherapy she has endured have basically done nothing to arrest the progression of her cancer. The lung nodules are greater in number and size, and the pancreatic tumour has also grown. In addition to this, there are two new tumours on her spine, at T8 and L1, the latter of which has eaten away about a third of the vertebra and is causing pressure on the nerve (and hence the excruciating back pain Mum has been suffering).

From the start, it seems that Mum's cancer has been abnormal in its behaviour. First of all, it took months to actually find it. Myriad blood tests (for all kinds of things, including cancer markers) all came back negative, and numerous scans of different kinds also failed to show anything. We are thankful to the gastroenterologist Mum was seeing at the time for having some kind of diagnostic sixth sense; he was convinced there was something there that we weren't seeing, and was determined to keep looking until he found it, which he eventually did. 

Then, the nodules on the lungs (whilst the liver remained, and still remains, clear). Quite unusual for the cancer to throw metastases to the lung, rather than the liver... but biopsy showed the nodules were indeed mets of the pancreatic cancer.

Now, the back pain: despite the oncologist's insistence that it couldn't possibly be related to the cancer, because pancreatic cancer doesn't usually attack bones... but sure enough... the tumours are there...

So today, the oncologist decided to stop the chemo, as there's no point in forcing Mum to endure more of that if it isn't doing anything for her. Given that this drug was the strongest, and most effective drug against pancreatic cancer, there isn't really anything else that can be done for the overall disease. So the oncologist referred us to a radiation oncologist, to give Mum some palliative radiation therapy on the spinal tumour, with the view to shrinking the tumour and relieving the pain. A temporary measure, to attempt to improve the quality of whatever life Mum has left. (and from talking to the oncologist, the prognosis has now been somewhat truncated- the cancer is obviously more aggressive than any of us thought, so it really is likely to be just a matter of months now, although the oncologist was still very reluctant to give any kind of estimate as to how long Mum might have left to live.

Needless to say, this all came as a stunning blow to us; Mum's neighbour Kay was with us (as she is the main support person for Mum when I'm not around) and we all collapsed into a sobbing mess when we left the doctor's office today. 

Fortunately, the radiation oncologist (who is really lovely) was able to see Mum today, and also to arrange the initial CT scan for today, to place the target markers for the radiation therapy on Mum's body... so this means she can get started on the treatment proper on Monday.

Throughout this whole ordeal, we have really been blessed that Mum has been under the care of so many really nice and caring doctors, and the treatment she's received at the San has been amazing. All the staff have been wonderful (and she's also very glad that she stayed in her top cover health fund, which has enabled her to receive this great treatment through the private hospital system, with very little out of pocket expense).

I am also grateful for the immense group of people who have been so supportive to Mum and to me through all of this... friends, neighbours, family members, from nearby and far away. There is such a great mantle of love and care around us, and some surprising expressions of that love and care at various times.

Not quite sure what the future will hold, or how things will go from here, but I know that God journeys with us. And I guess, I can't really ask for anything else.