I've chosen to share my story in the hope that it will inform, educate and inspire others into action, whether it's getting tested when sensing symptoms, raising money for funds to support research, or raising community awareness. 

I knew this day was coming, but I never really thought it would arrive. Loosing a loved one to cancer is terrible, it's the worst, it's life shattering. Cancer doesn't discriminate; it's unpredictable and hell, is it hard to control. 

My mum Jenny was diagnosed in 2007 with breast cancer. Her cancer was stage one and was caught early. She swiftly underwent surgery and radiation treatment. It was successful and she was in the clear, for five years.

On May 18th 2013, Jenny was diagnosed with secondary bone cancer. There's no known cure but we were informed that the illness is manageable and we were told we could expect many more full years of life. Her illness was managed by an extremely healthy diet, exercise and drugs; anti-oestrogen tablets, radiation, chemotherapy, the list goes on. Each drug bringing along a new, terrible side effect; nausea, fatigue, blisters on her hands and feet, hair loss - each side effect making her illness more real.  

The idea behind each generic off the shelf drug that was administered almost blindly behind a world class Professor of Oncology was to shrink the cancer and keep it at bay which it did - until it spread to her liver nine months ago. 

On 3rd of June, just past her two-year mark, we visited St Vincent's Hospital for Jenny to undergo internal radiation on her liver. After a laborious day of nuclear dyes, MRI scans and procedures, we were shocked to discover her liver was too diseased, and she had now become resistant to chemotherapy. 
The result was; there was no further hope - we given a timeline of four months and we were sent home with the recommendation to stop any further treatment.

My Dad drove Jenny my brother and myself back from St Vincent’s Hospital to my brother’s apartment in East Balmain. That car ride was excruciating. “What I wouldn’t give for one minute, one hour not to feel like this; not to be in pain” Jenny sobbed through the emotion of the day. Our hearts broke. My Mum had always protected us, shielded us from the hard reality of her condition - I’ll never forget that moment.

Here’s when thing spiralled. The cancer clinic ceased contact with Jenny, the Professor of Oncology wiped her from her books and our general practitioner was left in the lurch chasing information.
The disease tightened its grip and a very rapid decline followed. We were told palliative care would be in touch and now was the time that would most liberating for Jenny – no treatment would mean her unbearable symptoms would lift and she would feel better and brighter.

We had hope again, albeit for a short time.

She passed away 16 days later surrounded by her loving and fiercely protective family. Her last few days were almost unbearable; It was immensely distressing for her friends and family who loved her dearly. Seeing a loved one in pain but unable to help them is a situation I wouldn't inflict on anyone. The cancer sadly and ruthlessly took her from her husband of thirty-five years, her two children who adored her madly, her mother and brother and her many, many loving friends.

Jenny was stoic in her fight and managed her illness with great strength and endurance. She was a delight and a pleasure to all who knew her; she was open to life and love. She was known for her sincerity and genuine kindness and compassion for others.

She will be deeply missed by all of the many people who knew her but her strength and vitality lives on in our hearts. 

My family are strongly encouraging donations to be made to Australian Breast Cancer Research who are focussed on the prevention, detection and management of breast cancer. 
Perhaps if Jenny's illness had been detected earlier, or additional were options available we would have had more time together. 

What I wouldn't give for one last hug, one last chat, one more "I love you."