Pursuing a PhD, Pregnant, and Accompanying Her Father Through Two Cancer Battles: 'As Long as He's Here, Home Is Here' | Patient Story

Riki’s dowry was somewhat “special.”

Inside the chest her father, Lao Wu, prepared, he carefully kept a large collection of items from her childhood: photos, diaries, dolls, admission letters, and report cards, along with a red leather bag he spent a long time picking out at the mall.

When the wedding videographer asked him to introduce it, he couldn't hold back his tears: “Some families have chests full of jewelry for a wedding, but mine only has these.”

Riki thought this dowry was wonderful: “What could be better than a dad’s sentimental bag?” She gently patted Lao Wu’s back at the wedding and told him through his tears: “It’s okay, Dad.”

She knew that in the first half of his life, he had cared for his mother, his wife, and herself. Lao Wu rarely expressed love verbally; he would just quietly slip a photo frame inscribed with “Actions speak louder than words” into the dowry chest.

Later, Lao Wu became a colorectal cancer patient. Recurrence, metastasis, infection, kidney failure, bladder cancer, and severe hemorrhage followed one after another.

Inheriting her father’s reserved nature, Riki, who was simultaneously pregnant and pursuing her PhD, constantly shuttled to the hospital. She stayed by his bedside, kept night vigils, changed ostomy bags, and recorded drainage volumes... She believed in what Lao Wu had taught her: “There are always more solutions than difficulties.”

Facing life’s brutal blows, they became the most steadfast comrades. Riki wrote in her WeChat signature: “May love conquer all.”

May love conquer all.

—————
Author丨Wu Jiu

Editor丨Wu Jiu

「 Part One: Dad Always Seems to Lack a Little Luck 」

In Riki’s memory, Lao Wu was a very down-to-earth and hardworking man. “He came from a rural area, got into university, and moved to Shenzhen. He worked as a teacher and in administration, toiling for most of his life.”

“In 1998, my grandmother was diagnosed with colorectal cancer and needed a permanent stoma.” Lao Wu would drive four or five hours back to his hometown to care for her, then drive back the next day.

After caring for his mother, he cared for his wife. Riki’s mother has had systemic lupus erythematosus for nearly 30 years. “Dad also commuted back and forth to care for her while working.”

Riki felt that her dad always lacked a bit of luck. He was diagnosed at 58, just two years away from retirement. “I found the Panda Group chat right when he was going into the operating room.” Riki realized belatedly that the week had been too rushed. “It felt like we went into surgery without fully understanding the test results.”

After falling ill, Lao Wu rarely showed his emotions in front of Riki, though he became quieter. But Riki knew he was pessimistic inside. “After my grandmother was diagnosed with rectal cancer, she passed away five years later. Her younger brother also had colorectal cancer. In our hometown village, many people get this disease.”

In the summer of 2022, Riki was pursuing her PhD in Hong Kong. For young people at that stage, it’s often called the “golden hour,” a time of brilliance and hope. But when life was interrupted by a tumor, and the pandemic prevented her from traveling back and forth, her advisor understood her situation and told her to put her studies on hold to fully accompany her father through treatment.

[Photo of Riki with her parents at her master's graduation]

Lao Wu’s pathological stage was T3N1c, requiring chemoradiotherapy. Shortly after his diagnosis, Riki discovered she was pregnant. “Fortunately, my PhD came with a stipend, and I had some savings, so we could manage for a while.” During moments of extreme anxiety, she would hand-copy clinical guidelines. “I copied the entire colorectal cancer treatment guideline, and later the genetic report. Copying it helped calm my mind.”

Every time he underwent double-drug chemotherapy, pregnant Riki would stay by his bedside through the night. Near her due date, she was still running around the hospital. “Once, I had contractions so strong I thought I was going into labor right then. But then I thought, well, at least I’m already in the hospital.”

In May 2023, Riki’s daughter was born. Lao Wu always felt he was a burden to Riki and her child. Every time Riki brought her daughter home, he would prepare plenty of delicious food and fun things.

Lao Wu used to be a physics teacher and was also very good at crafting. Since his granddaughter was born, the house has been filled with many “Lao Wu custom-made” toys. Observing through photos that his granddaughter could recognize characters on a Chinese chess set, he would prepare a large box of chess pieces for their next visit.

In January 2024, Riki noticed an upward trend in Lao Wu’s tumor markers. The doctor said to monitor it if it was within the normal range. Additionally, her mother was hospitalized for heart failure and issued a critical illness notice, so the follow-up was postponed by a month or two.

When they finally did a colonoscopy in May, the tumor had recurred at the anastomosis site. Riki later learned that regular digital rectal exams are necessary after rectal resection. “The guidelines mentioned it, but I missed it, and no doctor ever reminded us.”

Members of the Panda Group suggested she consult Dr. Chen Gong and Prof. Ding Peirong, both leading experts in colorectal cancer in Guangdong.

“Dr. Gong’s appointments are extremely hard to get, so group members helped me grab one.” That day, Riki had just finished interviewing for a university teaching position. Walking out into heavy rain without an umbrella, she was soaked to the bone when her phone rang. A group member messaged: “Got it.” “In that moment, I felt so miserable, yet so incredibly happy.”

Facing Lao Wu’s condition, the two experts had differing opinions. Dr. Chen said a permanent stoma was the only option, while Prof. Ding suggested attempting sphincter preservation.

Lao Wu wanted to preserve his anus, and Riki respected his choice. She knew an ileal temporary stoma is harder to care for than a colostomy, but she also understood how important sphincter preservation was to her father. “Plus, Prof. Ding is from Guangdong, so Lao Wu felt a natural closeness communicating with him.” After careful consideration, Riki chose Prof. Ding.

Before surgery, Lao Wu received seven cycles of triplet chemotherapy plus targeted therapy. The fourth cycle showed significant tumor shrinkage. But by the seventh cycle, resistance developed, and tumor markers began rising again.

Prof. Ding said this was a critical window; missing it might mean surgery would no longer be possible. After three additional cycles of chemotherapy without targeted therapy, Lao Wu underwent his second surgery on December 11, 2024.

「 Part Two: Endless Problems to Solve 」

The surgery lasted from 5 PM to 2 AM. Because of prior radiotherapy, Lao Wu’s pelvic tissues were very fragile and severely adhered. Riki frantically refreshed the surgical updates on her phone, watching the procedure list grow: “Partial resection of the left pelvic wall, resection of the left seminal vesicle, partial resection of the right seminal vesicle…” It kept expanding. She thought, It’s worse than we imagined.

Riki waited outside the door until the doctor told her, “The surgery is done. We removed everything we could.” Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.

But on the third day post-op, the drainage fluid looked abnormal. The doctor flushed the drainage tube, injecting water through the anal tube, which then flowed out through the pelvic drain—an anastomotic leak. An intern blurted out a curse word, and Riki’s heart sank.

Negative pressure irrigation required daily saline flushes of the pelvic cavity: the drainage bottle needed to be squeezed every two to three hours to suction out debris; ostomy and urine bags had to be monitored and emptied promptly; the ileostomy also required care...

Riki’s memo was full of such “to-do” items. She even figured out a routine: Waking up at 3 AM to empty the bags once allowed Lao Wu to sleep until morning.

After the first attempt to remove the urinary catheter, Lao Wu struggled to urinate and eventually couldn’t at all, so it had to be reinserted. Two weeks after admission, he was discharged with tubes. But at home, Riki noticed the drainage fluid becoming increasingly cloudy. A week later at follow-up, Lao Wu developed a severe infection.

The urinary catheter couldn’t be removed, and infection markers kept soaring.

On the day of his second discharge, an ultrasound showed residual urine volume was borderline. Lao Wu chose not to have the catheter reinserted, but he developed a fever that very night. The fever persisted for two weeks, spiking to 40°C one day with severe chills. Riki called an ambulance to the ER. Once the catheter was reinserted, 700 ml of urine drained immediately, and his creatinine levels dropped.

During that period, Riki spent almost all her time on a folding bed next to Lao Wu’s hospital bed, spending nights in prayer as she anxiously watched his fluctuating lab values.

After more than a month of torment from the anastomotic leak, catheter issues, and infections, on January 25, Lao Wu suddenly experienced massive hemorrhage. “That noon, I went home to rest briefly. Just as I was heading back to the hospital, my aunt called to say Dad was bleeding again.”

Riki rushed to the hospital and saw two drainage bags completely filled with blood. Lao Wu’s blood pressure dropped to 60/40, and he grew confused. Nurses told her to keep calling his name to prevent him from falling asleep.

The doctor warned that another massive bleed could occur during transport to the CT scan or while moving him. Riki signed a critical illness notice. It was the first time she truly felt her father might not survive.

The hemorrhage was caused by a pseudoaneurysm of the iliac artery. Lao Wu underwent emergency embolization that night and was transferred to the ICU. The next day, an ICU nurse called. Riki panicked, fearing the worst. The nurse said, “Your dad wants his phone. Please bring it.” Lao Wu became the only patient in the ICU lying in bed playing on his phone.

「 Part Three: You and Dad Have Both Worked So Hard 」

While accompanying her father to the hospital, the medical equipment often reminded Riki of the movie McDull, Kung Fu Kindergarten. When McDull’s mother fell ill, she would always tell him she was going to be an astronaut and travel to space.

Lao Wu was just like McDull’s mother. He said going for chemotherapy was “going to Peking University for advanced studies.” Even in the ICU, he always claimed he was fine, even when his indicators looked terrible.

In February, a CT scan during his hospitalization brought worse news: suspected liver metastasis. The disease had entered a mid-to-late stage, requiring multidisciplinary input. For patients and families, this meant a grueling test of mental, physical, and emotional endurance.

In March 2025, Riki posted on WeChat Moments: “Ran frantically between hospitals these past two weeks. Consulted colorectal surgery: Ding Peirong, Han Kai; medical oncology: Li Yuhong, Deng Yanhong; hepatobiliary surgery: Li Binkui, Zheng Yun; interventional radiology: Gao Fei; radiation oncology: Gao Yuanhong, Wang Qiaoxuan; imaging: Zhang Rong. Treatment plans were overturned and revised repeatedly. Completed a human-powered MDT (multidisciplinary team) task. Keep fighting.”

After synthesizing opinions from multiple departments, at the end of the month, Lao Wu began second-line chemotherapy for colorectal cancer at the Oncology Department of Peking University Shenzhen Hospital. However, after three months of continuous treatment, tumor markers continued to rise, indicating the regimen was ineffective.

After starting antidepressants, Riki often felt somewhat “numb.” What others might see as unbearable or insurmountable became tasks she simply had to face and resolve urgently, leaving little time to process grief.

“In April, Lao Wu went to replace his ureteral stent due to urinary obstruction and ureteral stricture, but they found polyps.” Riki consulted the urology department at Sun Yat-sen University Cancer Center. Prof. Zhou reviewed the case and said the colorectal cancer issue had to be addressed first; for now, only a urinary catheter and double-J stent could be left in place, with no better alternatives.

The urinary system was difficult to repair. The ureter was too thin, raising concerns about urinary fistula, making biopsy too risky.

Riki had actually anticipated this answer but refused to give up without asking. After the consultation, Prof. Zhou said: “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. You’ve worked so hard, and your father even more so.”

Hearing those words of comfort, Riki finally allowed herself to feel the sorrow, “tears streaming silently in the consultation room.”

「 Part Four: As Long as He’s Here, Home Is Here 」

Perhaps due to prior infections, the second-line chemotherapy caused severe side effects for Lao Wu. Severe diarrhea led to prerenal acute kidney failure, soaring serum creatinine, massive watery output from the stoma, and urinary tract infections... A PET-CT in late May showed metastases in both his liver and lungs.

After consulting doctors and group members, Riki took Lao Wu to Sun Yat-sen University Cancer Center for liver radiotherapy. During this period, he experienced intermittent fevers. “Different bacteria kept showing up in his urine cultures.”

She never started the university teaching job she had interviewed for in the rain. “The school was excellent and kept extending my deferral for half a year, then another. With this illness recurring, they finally said, ‘Come back when you have the chance.’”

In October, while replacing the ureteral stent, doctors discovered a new mass in Lao Wu’s bladder. Biopsy pathology confirmed low-grade urothelial carcinoma. Riki sent the slides for consultation at SYSUCC, but the result didn’t change.

Dad had bladder cancer now, too.

Riki wasn’t afraid of seeking medical care; she feared Lao Wu would give up because of it. After long consideration, she sent him a long message.

She wrote: “Your body is your own, and you have the right to choose. I can only do my best to find good doctors and treatment plans to make your journey more comfortable, with fewer detours and less suffering.”

She added: “Every day you live is not just important to you, but to me and our whole family.”

Lao Wu didn’t say much. Perhaps he had seen what she wrote on her Moments: “As long as he’s here, home is here.”

On November 21, Lao Wu underwent transurethral resection of the bladder tumor, followed by intravesical instillation of 30mg pirarubicin; in December, he restarted a first-line treatment regimen primarily based on oxaliplatin. Riki knew her father was suffering greatly, he just didn’t say it.

[Before the bladder resection, Lao Wu felt dizzy on the gurney, so he chose to walk into the operating room himself]

In March 2026, Lao Wu’s tumor progressed again. The medical oncology director suggested adding targeted therapy to the original regimen. After trying liposomal irinotecan plus bevacizumab, Riki planned to take Lao Wu to Hangzhou to explore interventional options.

“I don’t know why, but we keep doing chemoradiotherapy, and it keeps progressing,” Riki sometimes felt utterly helpless. She couldn’t help but post on Moments, “I don’t know how to save my dad anymore.”

In her memory, Lao Wu always lacked a bit of luck. “At the end of 2022, during his 24th radiotherapy session, he tested positive for COVID.” At that time, Riki had returned to Shenzhen for amniocentesis, leaving Lao Wu to endure the illness alone in a hotel. “It took half a month to finally complete his last radiotherapy session.”

She hoped he could enjoy some peace. But whenever he wasn’t hospitalized, Lao Wu would go renovate his old apartment. It was the first home he bought after starting work, a walk-up on the seventh floor.

He constantly climbed up and down, fixing wiring, rerouting pipes, and supervising wall painting. Riki told him it was too tiring and to stop climbing, but he wouldn’t listen. She guessed her father wanted to do something more for the family while he still had the strength.

[Lao Wu, wearing an ostomy bag and urine bag, insists on doing the renovation himself]

March 24 was Lao Wu’s birthday. Though he initially brushed it off saying, “I just finished chemo, let’s skip it,” he secretly went downstairs that weekend when his granddaughter visited to order a cake, specifically requesting “Happy Birthday Grandpa” written on it.

To others, Riki is an almost omnipotent “Nurse Xiao Wu.” Running to hospitals, prescribing medications, ostomy care, mixing drugs, giving injections—she handles it all with ease.

But in her eyes, it is Lao Wu who, through his life’s resilience and perseverance through grueling treatments, has taught her the most precious lesson in life: there is nothing harder in this world.

Knocked down time and again, yet rising to “live” again each time.

The reserved pair still rarely express affection through words or touch. “I’ll secretly hold his hand to encourage him while adjusting his IV tape.”

「 Part Five: I Will Always Be With You 」

Attentive Riki can feel Lao Wu’s love, as well as his worries. He fears being a burden to his daughter, yet also worries about negatively impacting her. Just like at her wedding, he worried his wife’s health might make others “a bit afraid,” which could affect Riki’s life.

Riki thinks he worries too much. “He used to frequently travel back to our hometown. I roughly knew what he was doing. In Guangdong, there’s a custom of preparing a burial plot in advance, covering the name, and getting it ready while still alive.”

He didn’t tell Riki, fearing she would object. Only after the location was confirmed and construction was about to begin did he formally tell her he would engrave both her and her daughter’s names into the epitaph.

• Although she often gets angry when Lao Wu says things like “If I die, I die” or “Stop treating me,” regarding the “final lesson,” Riki respects all of Lao Wu’s choices.

Last winter, Lao Wu took Riki back to their hometown. They walked to a hillside, looked at it from afar, but didn’t climb up.

Riki said in the group: “It’s good. The grave is there, easy to spot, visible at a glance. I won’t be afraid of not finding it later. I was really worried he’d pick a spot deep in an old forest where it’s completely impossible to find.”

She thought back to her wedding day, walking arm-in-arm with her father just like when she was a child, and the letter she wrote to her parents. “Dad is my tree, and also my comrade-in-arms.”

Lao Wu’s tumor seems to still be progressing. It’s hard for humans to defeat cancer, but love can mend time, supporting a family to move forward bravely.

Riki thinks, no matter what happens in the end, she won’t be afraid of not finding her dad anymore. She feels that after these years, her mindset has become more open and peaceful. “He is indeed using his life to push me forward, toward a better direction.”

“All lives have an end. Dad, I will always be with you,” Riki said.

She wants to stay with her dad forever.

As Riki’s daughter grows up, she hopes her daughter will know and remember: as long as the family is together, there is nothing to fear.

[A drawing Riki made for Lao Wu on Father's Day]

To protect patient privacy, names in this article are pseudonyms.
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