Only yesterday my partner was told she had pancreatic cancer which has spread to the liver. Chemotherapy is an option but to prolong life rather than cure. I have no words to describe how I am feeling at the moment. However, based on the topic of this chat I feel so selfish to be worried, anxious and scared of what the future will bring. We have a 6 year old who will lose her mother and I will lose the person that makes this house what it is today, it won’t be the same without her. I know it’s good to chat to people in a similar position and if anyone is willing or wanting to chat then please reach out. I need it, so I know others will. 

I’m so sorry. What you’re facing is unimaginable, and there is nothing selfish about how you’re feeling. Fear, grief and anxiety are completely natural when the person you love, and the future you pictured, is suddenly at risk, especially with a young child involved.

Thank you for being open and honest. I know your words will help others feel less alone, even if they don’t know how to respond yet.

If it would help, perhaps we could organise a simple, informal meet-up in London, just a safe space to talk, listen, or sit with people who understand. Even a coffee and a walk can make things feel a little less isolating.

You don’t have to do this alone. I can ask my friend if she might be interested? Otherwise a Zoom if everyone is based across the UK? X

I’m in Norfolk and as much as I have travelled down to London on a regular basis for work, I don’t think that’s an option sadly at the moment. Zoom could certainly work but I guess you don’t get quite the same togetherness feeling from a Zoom call. I’m happy to try though. I’m anxious about the conversation with my daughter and even more anxious about the first few days and weeks without her mum. I’m hoping it is super early to even think about that at the moment, but it’s going through my head none the less. I can and will remain strong for her and be there for her, but that little mind running at a million miles an hour not really being able to process the fact that she won’t see her mum again is the most scariest feeling I’ve ever experienced. 

I’m in Norfolk and as much as I have travelled down to London on a regular basis for work, I don’t think that’s an option sadly at the moment. Zoom could certainly work but I guess you don’t get quite the same togetherness feeling from a Zoom call. I’m happy to try though. I’m anxious about the conversation with my daughter and even more anxious about the first few days and weeks without her mum. I’m hoping it is super early to even think about that at the moment, but it’s going through my head none the less. I can and will remain strong for her and be there for her, but that little mind running at a million miles an hour not really being able to process the fact that she won’t see her mum again is the most scariest feeling I’ve ever experienced. 

Hey Rob, yes I agree, it's not the same but I do feel we can at least try. As hard as it just talking about it, on the other hand I personally feel I'm a going to explode not getting support through talk. So, I can only assume you feel the same. 

And I said the same to my partner yesterday, who loves an hour away so we only see one another once a week. This is another challenge! I said the fact is that my daughter loses her best friend and I don't know how we tell her it's come back and in operable. She loves Christmas and it's her birthday 3 days before Christmas and so we are trying so hard to keep this from her so that this exciting time of year is not ruined every year from now...

as parents we have to be warriors. My sister in law said you have to "fake it" which is good advice although we can't be robots. I can fake it most of the time but just seeing her reminds me of the loss she will feel one day. But then again we aren't here to live forever? Why can't we just accept this and enjoy each moment together. Anything can happen to us at anytime right? That's logic, but our brains are so complex. Our hearts just want to love and protect at least our children. 

Cry where you need to, but then wipe the tears away and focus on making memories that aren't around the misery. We just said yesterday we can't remember always talking about the diagnosis and cancer, we need to fill conversation with joy and good things even though what's at the back of minds is painful. 

What's beautiful is that you're there, and you'll fill that gap. Time will heal, and you will soldier through x