On 20th March 2021 my Dad bid the world a fond farewell, only days after his 67th Birthday. He was truly devastated about his most recent diagnoses as he felt he still had a lot of life to live. I say most recent diagnoses as he’d been intermittently battling various cancers for over forty-five years, firstly diagnosed at 21 years old, no less than six weeks after I was born.

Countless times before he’d been told to go home and get his affairs in order as his demise was imminent….and countless times he thanked the specialists for their opinions but told them it wasn’t going to be convenient for him to die that particular day, so he’d be continuing on about his business. As you’d expect, he loved his life, he loved his friends he loved his family…..but he particularly loved any waif or stray that would engage in conversation with him wherever that might be. I’m not joking when I say that, the vast majority of my Christmases were spent with complete strangers he’d picked up the day before and invited home for the festivities. That was his deal in life....he was all inclusive. It seems that the harder you’d fallen the further he’d go to pick you back up.

Like thousands of other families, we had a somewhat eventful pandemic. Never one to shy away from the spotlight, he chose no less than a family Zoom call to have a stroke. Yep, sitting locked down with my Mam and broadcasting live to myself and my cousins, he literally fell off the side of the screen. Then taken straight to hospital and returned to us a colossal thirteen weeks later.

Upon discharge we were told to never expect him to walk again due to the severity of the stroke. We felt differently though, and although months without him, we knew his strength of mind, and felt if there was even the slightest neurological chance he would walk again then he would eventually be walking. They looked at us like we were crazy….

Sure enough though, with the support some of the most incredibly Carer's and Physio’s and his own mix of both defiance and sheer determination he was walking twelve weeks later. To have been part of that journey was one of the most humbling and spectacular things I’ve ever witnessed.

We thought going into 2021 things could only get better. But sadly for us, his pancreas had very different ideas. Soon after the New Year he was rushed back into hospital again, but this time the reality we’d managed to escape my entire life was finally upon us. He was diagnosed with advanced Pancreatic Cancer and we were told to expect no more than ten days.....once again though, he decided that wasn’t going to be enough time. He took ten weeks, saw in his 67th Birthday and soon after closed his eyes for the final time.

We were heart broken, of course we were. The whole situation was horrific, beyond cruel, to come back from such a major stroke only to be met with terminal cancer was just unfathomable. But during the final three months of his life we addressed the situation head on, we talked about life after death, we laughed and we left no stone unturned.

In both celebrating his life and in support of Pancreatic Cancer UK, I shall be walking 100 miles this October. Please follow the link in my bio to offer your support. There’s never a good time to go, but maybe for him it was the right time, myself and mam often quip that that sharp tongue’d mouth of his, in the current climate would probably have gotten him cancelled.

It’s unacceptable that more than half of people diagnosed with pancreatic cancer die within 3 months. Survival rates have improved enormously for most cancers, yet for pancreatic cancer, this is not the case.

Pancreatic Cancer UK is dedicated to taking on this injustice using every possible means. They're supporting people with pancreatic cancer now, campaigning, and funding vital research to transform the future. Help them to make the breakthroughs that people with pancreatic cancer so desperately need.