This thread has been split so as to allow its supportive nature to run uninterrupted.

John, I well understand the devastating effects a young death can impose on a small community, particularly as our own is bracing itself for something similar imminently. I've not mentioned this to the board in general up until now, though there are a few who already know: my best mate's daughter's cancer (previously in remission for seven years) has returned, and the greater part of the past five weeks has been spent trying to cope with the almost daily changes in news, condition and prognosis, with switchback changes of mood due to the differing results of various tests which have kept everybody on a permanent knife-edge, with hope and despair replacing each other sometimes several times in a single day.

 Things aren't looking at all good any more, and despite the fact that it's a close extended family, there's a lot to take on board which most are finding diffficult to face: she's a young mum with bairns of 11 and 9, she's built up a large successful business: but the tiny feisty firebrand who has achieved so much in the seven years of remission is reduced to a passive, semi-comatose shell. It seems the fight has gone out of her: to get her to eat or drink even the smallest amounts is a major undertaking. Now she's in a private room in hospital, and there's at least one of us there 24/7, which is why there have been some gaps in my presence here; and if I'm not there, there are others who desperately need support. Whether out of the blue, or after a considerable struggle, the loss of someone who in the order of things should be here after we're gone is a terrible dread, and likely to be an even harder blow.

There's really nothing that anyone can say, so I'm not expecting anyone to answer this, though I would like publicly to record my gratitude to Morticia for her support and help, both theoretical and practical.   

Ron, I'm so sorry to hear this. Not much else I can say, but you know that we're all thinking of you and of your friends.

Thanks for posting that, Ron. I had sensed that something was up and hope that you draw comfort from messages of support here.


And isn't this, in some ways, the most upsetting aspect of the situation? Once the body was railed against illness and the fight has gone, it can seem that all is lost. I do hope not and my thoughts are with you all at this time.

Going back a couple of years, a former pupil, who was in my very first class, was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour at the age of 19 in part of the brain that surgeons in the UK were unable/ unwilling to operate on. Her family and friends established a charity to raise the necessary funds to send her to Boston where there was a surgeon prepared to operate if necessary. You can read Meg's story here. I went to her 21st birthday party and was humbled by her courageous spirit - her sense of fun was completely undimmed - and I get the feeling this is what kept her family going.

I'm very sorry to hear this, Ron. My thoughts are with you.

I am so sorry, Ron, and feel for you all so much.

Like Milly, I've had direct experience of this - my husband died of cancer at the age of 40 when my children were 9 and 6. It was very quick in our case, though he must have been ill for a long time without realising what it was. Hopes weren't "raised and dashed" - they were only dashed. I suspect this may be easier.

I well remember the ward sister saying when he died that there were many like him, and this is certainly true. Recently the wife of a member of the Liverpool Phil orchestra died, leaving him with a young son in his first year at senior school, and even younger twin daughters, and I've known of others.

Will anything ever be done about this dreadful disease?

Dundee is a national centre of excellence in the field, Mary, probably second only to Cambridge: there are breakthroughs in the pipeline, and if only we were able to get her through to the next stage - chemo - for which the first treatment has already been ordered, and is ready and waiting (if only she could be persuaded to eat, and not refuse tablets: since it's a second chemo, it's necessary to administer orally rather than intravenously). There's still a possibility that if we could just get her pass this stage, there's another period of remission which could extend to several years, and also a strong chance she could take part in trials for a new treatment soon to start in cooperation with the University of Dundee, which at the moment looks distinctly promising.

 Getting there, though, which seems so tantalisingly possible, is just being so frustratingly hampered by her refusal to eat and drink. She was never an easy eater, and seems to have returned to her childhood habits: the expressions on her face when being fed are very reminiscent of those of a toddler in her high chair faced with food she has no intention of eating, and her descriptions of its quality most unflattering (though couched in terms rather less likely to be available to most high-chair toddlers).

Very sorry to read that, Ron.

Y'm remynded of the old saw  of  Alex Comfort (by professyon a prof of gerontology but an actyvst more generally) about the value of engagyng the sufferer to  outwyt the condytyon. but sheer mental exhuastyon ys palpable from what you say Ron. Y am wonderyng yf worcyng wyth  the chyldhod  stuff theraputycally-remnscyng about sylly thyngs etc though ynytally paynful or negatyvely responded to  perhaps-mygfht move her on and bacc to eatyng etc. from a mental health perspectyve the regressed stuff you descrybe could be part of  the self-healyng yf a non-ynvasyve way  can be found to stay wyth yt and nurture yt. y'm thyncng psychodynamcs here. say someone the famyly cnows  but who ys perceyvably neutral.  excuse me styccng my oar yn  here but my hunch ys that you're loocyng at an 'ynverted' olyve branch from her towards the future. hope thys  helps-anyway she has a tytan battyng  for her yn your good self Ron.