Lost my mum to secondry liver cancer from the breast 2 weeks ago - sharing my story

I am 25, I lost my 54 yr old mum to secondary liver cancer 2 weeks ago. I found that reading other peoples stories helped me, and still is helping me now, so I am sharing my story too. 

 

18 months ago my mum was diagnosed with breast cancer, it was caught soon enough to have the lump removed. She had chemo after and radiotherapy as precautions to stop the cancer coming back. Over all, it went as well as it could and my mum was given the all clear just before Christmas, 23rd December 2013. We were all over the moon with happiness, the only thing that was putting a bit of a downer on things was the fact my mum had been complaining of an ache at the back of her shoulder. After several trips to the doctors and shooting star they were adamant  that it was nothing to worry about and it was nerve damage from the radiotherapy. She was sent for physiotherapy and given painkillers. When my mum came back form the physiotherapy she told me and my dad how painful it was but that it must be doing her good. 

 

At the beginning of January 2014 the pain was becoming unbearable and she was signed off work on the sick. The doctor continued giving her strong painkillers and paracetimol, things went down hill very quickly and my mum couldn’t stop being sick. My dad followed all the instructions the doctor gave and kept taking mum back and to looking for answers. After 3 weeks of mum being sick she was loosing weight and couldn’t even get out of bed, my dad was at the end of his tether and broke down to me a few times (I still live with parents) The last time they went to the doctors my dad insisted they do a blood test. 

 

A week later we got a phone call around 9pm on Tuesday 28th Jan 2014. The results came back showing alarming abnormalities in her blood levels. I’m not really sure what but they said that they were similar to results to someone suffering pneumonia. She was told to go straight to the doctor in the morning who then told her to go to A&E in the morning.

Wedsnesday 29th Jan we were told she had a gall stone…very painful but fixable. 

Thursday 30th Jan we were told she had a gallstone and also secondry liver cancer. As a result of the amount of painkillers she had been prescribed by the doctor the amount of paracetimol in my mums liver was dangrous and her liver was failing.

Friday 31st Jan we were told the cancer is also in the lung. 

Saturday 1st Feb we are told it is also in the brain, there is no point in more test as it is most probably everywhere in the body. Nothing they can do, time for palliative care. Weeks left. 

Wednesday 5th Feb we moved mum to nightingale house.

 

Over the next 3 weeks we made the most of what time we had left and watched mum deteriorate, she passed away Tuesday 25th February 2014.

 

We are all left feeling completely lost and in shock about what has happened the past few weeks. For me it hasn’t sank in properly yet, I feel completely numb except for the odd time every couple of days I break down crying. My dad isnt coping very well, we are there for each other and my younger brother and sister but ultimately we all just want mum back, and its never going to happen. I feel angry and that she was failed by the health service, I can’t understand how someone can be given the all clear of cancer when in actual fact they are riddled with it. She was treated with paracetimol for liver cancer and physiotherapy for the lung cancer, the pain was the cancer pushing pressure on her ribs. I have thought about this all so much it is beginning to drive me mad. I know now it won’t bring any good by dwelling on what if’s but things will be followed up when we are stronger. If we had had more tests and aftercare my mum would still be here today. 

 

Shortly after mum was taken to nightingale house I felt like we were the only family this was happening to, our whole world was crumbling around us. That’s when I started coming on here reading similar stories, it made me realise that we weren’t alone. I cried along with peoples losses, realised I shared a lot of the same feelings and emotions and used advice.

 

We were all with her when she passed, I wish I had been more prepared for what it would be like when she passed, but in reality I don’t think you can ever really be prepared. I told her I was proud of her, proud of how she fought to the end and how we were all with her and loved her so much. 

 

A quote I found from reading these forums was, “As long as you have hope the cancer hasn’t won”. I said it to my mum a few days before she died, and her reply was…" Too right! This little jasper isn’t beating me! I’ve got too much left to see and do!" Right up to the end we all held on to hope. 

 

 

 

 

I am so sorry for your loss. Your mum sounds like a wonderful lady. I hope you are able to focus on all your happy memories of her in time and celebrate her life.

 

It scares me that the NHS don’t seem to be too hot on spotting secondary cancer after giving the all clear. I am currently approaching the end of 6 cycles of FEC-T pre-adjuvant chemo, and am preparing for my mastectomy and lymph node clearance in May. I have remained optimistic throughout but am aware that my tumour was a large, grade 3, 5cm mass and extremely aggressive and advanced when diagnosed, so that surely increases the risk of return. not a happy thought to carry with me.

 

We all soldier on, hoping for the best, but we don’t know what the future holds. We can only do our best. And it sounds like your mum and all your family, did just that. I take my hat off to you. You will all be in my prayers today. Be strong for your mum’s sake. She’ll be keeping an eye on you, and would be upset to know you were mourning her too much. Smile, be brave and show the world how much you loved her by being the big strong adults that she raised you to be. x

Dear S3Z

 

Thank you for sharing your sad story. I am so sorry to hear of all your mum went through and that you now no longer have her to love you and be loved in return. I hope that sharing this story will go a small way to helping you come to terms with your loss, although I know that will take a very long time for you. Whatever I say, I can’t even begin to understand how you are all feeling right now. All I can do is send you very, very, big hugs.

 

poemsgalore xx