Jo & Joan
Jo’s mum, Joan, was initially misdiagnosed with a pancreatic cyst. Sadly, it was actually pancreatic cancer which had also spread to her liver. Joan died eight weeks after her diagnosis, aged 61. Jo is now determined to raise funds and make others aware of pancreatic cancer, in memory of her mum.
My mum’s cancer journey is a story of love and loss
Early in 2024, my mum started experiencing stomach pain. She wasn’t one to make a fuss, but the discomfort became so persistent that she made repeated trips to the doctor. After some time, she was referred for an ultrasound, which revealed gallstone issues. However, during the scan, the radiologist also spotted a swelling on her pancreas. At the time, this swelling wasn’t investigated further. Looking back, I often wonder if more urgency could have made a difference.
As the weeks passed, her pain worsened. She made more trips to the doctor, trying to find relief and answers. Eventually, she was sent for more tests. It was then that we received the first piece of life-changing news: she had a pre-cancerous cyst on her pancreas. I remember sitting with her after that appointment, both of us trying to process what this could mean. She was scared but still hopeful, holding onto the idea that it wasn’t cancer — not yet.
The diagnosis was shattering
But hope can be fragile. After more tests, her diagnosis changed again. It wasn’t just a cyst. It was a cancerous lesion on her pancreas. When the doctor told us it was stage 4 and had spread to her liver, it felt like the ground had disappeared beneath us. I could barely breathe as I watched her absorb the words, trying to be brave even as her world shattered.
Her symptoms increased
While she was poorly, she endured so much. Her bile ducts became blocked by the tumour, and she needed a stent to help relieve the symptoms. She was in constant pain despite the medications, and the weight seemed to fall off her daily. My mum, who had always been so vibrant and full of life, was fading before my eyes. It was unbearable to watch someone so incredible, my best friend, suffer so deeply.
She meant so much to us
Mum wasn’t just my best friend; she was the best friend of my three sisters too. Together, we leaned on each other, trying to stay strong for her and for each other. And to her ten grandchildren, she was the best Nana anyone could ask for. She loved each of them so deeply and took such joy in their laughter and milestones. She had a way of making each one feel special, and the bond she had with them will never be forgotten.
Her diagnosis came just eight weeks before she passed away, on 7th July 2024. She spent her final days in hospital, with my dad, me and my three sisters by her side. We cared for her with all the love we could give, trying to ease her pain and show her how much she meant to us. Loving her in those final moments was both heart-breaking and the most important thing we could do.
Coping with loss
Eight weeks felt like no time at all to come to terms with losing someone who had been such a huge part of my life. It wasn’t enough time to say everything I wanted to say, to create more memories, to hold her hand a little longer.
At her funeral, so many people came to say goodbye that there wasn’t a single seat left. It was a testament to how loved and respected she was — a woman who touched so many lives with her kindness, warmth, and humour.
In the months since her passing, I’ve tried to channel my grief into something positive. I’ve been raising money for Pancreatic Cancer UK in her memory, and I’m proud to say that I’ve raised nearly £1,000 so far. It’s my way of honouring her and helping others who might face the same devastating journey. I hope that one day, more funding and awareness will lead to earlier diagnosis and better outcomes for those with pancreatic cancer.
Mum’s journey was far too short, and her loss has left a permanent scar on my heart. But sharing her story feels like a way to keep her memory alive and to make sure that her experience might help others recognise symptoms, seek answers, and demand more from our healthcare systems. She was an extraordinary woman — an amazing mum, the best Nana, and my best friend. I will always be proud to be her daughter.
Jo
February 2025
