Accompanying My Father Through Three Years of Advanced Colon Cancer: Why Fear Multiple Recurrences? | Patient Story
In the spring of 2023, freezing rain in Hunan blocked the roads and nearly severed my father's lifeline.
After receiving a call from my cousin, I (Songshuzai) rushed back to my hometown from Ningbo and then brought my father to Guangzhou. Over three years, he survived the "won't make it past the end of the year" prognosis given by doctors. His weight increased from under 100 jin to 125 jin, turning advanced cancer into a chronic disease that requires meticulous management.
While accompanying my father through treatment, I experienced rapid personal growth. I've learned that life's battles never wait for you to be ready. When you're suddenly thrust into the whirlpool, just remember: tackle each challenge as it comes, and keep moving forward.
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Author | Songshuzai & Maling Shu
Editor | Maling Shu
Reviewer | Guangguang
[ Spring 2025, my parents visiting an art exhibition ]
The following article is adapted from Songshuzai's personal account:
「 I. Father Diagnosed with Advanced Colon Cancer 」
On March 17, 2023, my cousin called from home: "Your dad needs surgery for a stomach polyp, and they need you to sign the consent form." I was puzzled, "It's just a signature. Isn't my mom at home?"
The next day, after booking my flight back, I finally learned the truth about my father's "colon cancer" from an elder. I was working in Ningbo at the time and luckily managed to get a direct flight. I went straight to the hospital upon arrival. My father was lying in bed, breathing faintly. Seeing me, he weakly said, "Why did you come back? It's not a big deal." His voice was so soft I had to lean close to his mouth to hear him.
Then I learned that my mother had also fractured her lumbar spine around the same time.
The next day, I was at the hospital trying to piece together the full picture of his condition while fielding endless questions from relatives. In Hunan's freezing rain, my phone grew hot from constant calls.
Staying in our hometown was no longer an option. According to local doctors, "It's terminal; he won't survive the year." I asked relatives to send his medical records to a provincial cancer hospital and the Sixth Affiliated Hospital of Sun Yat-sen University (Zhongshan Sixth Hospital). The provincial hospital said, "We'll try our best," while Guangzhou said, "There's a lot of hope."
With that response, I stopped consulting other hospitals. Without a moment's hesitation, I decided to head straight to Guangzhou.
At that time, my father had a persistent high fever, his face flushed red. I gritted my teeth and helped him onto the high-speed train. On the very day we arrived in Guangzhou and he was admitted, my mother underwent surgery back home. At that critical moment, thanks to the unwavering support of relatives and friends back home, I was able to focus entirely on accompanying my father to seek medical care.
「 II. Traveling a Thousand Miles to Seek Treatment in Guangzhou 」
The hardships of seeking medical care far from home became fully apparent the moment we arrived in Guangzhou.
The ten-minute walk from the high-speed train exit to the taxi stand took us half an hour, and we only covered 200 meters. I asked a station patrol cart to take us to the taxi pickup point. It was already 2:30 PM, and the hospital bed reservation would expire at 5:00 PM.
Rain and traffic jams delayed us further, and we didn't reach the hospital building until nearly 5:00 PM. My father had been in the restroom for a long time. I asked a security guard to check on him and found he was vomiting uncontrollably and too weak to walk. I borrowed a wheelchair and pushed him quickly through the hospital corridors.
My hands were too full to carry luggage, so I could only kick the suitcase forward every few steps to move it along. That suitcase was our only "belongings" for this trip. Knowing the journey would be tough, I had left all other luggage at the hometown train station to travel light.
Rushing against the clock, we finally completed the admission procedures before the deadline. Even after 8:00 PM that night, I was still pushing my father in a wheelchair to and from the basement for various tests. Only after all the tests were done did I have time to quickly order daily necessities online according to a pre-planned list.
「 III. Under 100 jin vs. The Strongest Three-Drug Plus Targeted Therapy Regimen 」
Throughout my upbringing, I always felt somewhat detached from my family. Daily phone calls with my parents were always brief: "Have you eaten?" "How's the weather?" Conversations ended in five seconds. On the day we were admitted to Zhongshan Sixth Hospital, I glanced at the nurse's station and finally learned my father's height and that he weighed less than 100 jin.
As his medical history was being entered, I was speechless. Aside from a history of cerebral infarction, I knew nothing about his physical condition.
The next day brought another round of intensive tests, followed by an unexpected crisis: the tumor ruptured, causing rectal bleeding, and we had to change the bedsheets four times in a row. My father voluntarily asked for diapers and absorbent pads. It broke my heart, feeling it hurt his dignity, but he set aside his pride and voiced it himself.
At 10:00 PM, cancer pain struck. My father's face contorted in agony, and he could only endure it. By the next morning, the doctors decided not to wait for the genetic test results and immediately started chemotherapy using the FOLFOXIRI regimen (oxaliplatin, irinotecan, and fluorouracil).
Comprehensive initial tests were conducted: three imaging scans (contrast-enhanced CT of the chest, abdomen, and pelvis, and upper abdominal MRI), a pathology consultation for the sigmoid colon biopsy, a 36-gene panel blood test, plus four categories of blood tests including tumor markers and infection screening.
Results confirmed: adenocarcinoma, pMMR, HER2-negative. CEA and CA19-9 were significantly elevated, KRAS/NRAS/BRAF were wild-type, and MRD was positive.
Based on his genetic report, the doctors upgraded the subsequent treatment plan to FOLFOXIRI combined with cetuximab. They controlled the tumor immediately and later used test results to precisely target it, which met my expectations. This solidified my decision to continue his treatment here.
「 IV. Severe Chemotherapy Side Effects 」
The side effects of the first four chemotherapy cycles were severe. Each time, my father developed a persistent high fever starting on the third day. The situation after the fourth cycle was the most frightening. When my mother helped him out of bed, he was completely limp like wet clay. We had to call 120, and he was carried to the emergency room on a stretcher, requiring an extra week of hospitalization for the fever. With the next cycle approaching, I was extremely anxious. A one-week delay would mean the first four cycles were in vain.
Fortunately, my father pulled through and didn't delay the fifth cycle.
[ Third chemotherapy cycle in 2023, when my father weighed only 88 jin ]
An elder who had worked in a hospital pharmacy for decades reminded me that after chemotherapy, immunity is very low, so we should try to maintain a sterile environment at home.
This advice woke me up. My father had a habit of walking after meals, so I adjusted his walks to 6:00 AM and 8:00 PM when there were fewer people. We changed clothes and shoes every time we entered or left, sprayed alcohol all over our bodies, and even disinfected our shoe soles. Every evening when he went out for a walk, I used a UV lamp to disinfect the entire house.
Sure enough, by the sixth cycle, he only had a mild fever that could be managed with medication at home. After the seventh cycle, high fevers never returned. Over the past three years, except for a fever after liver ablation, he hasn't had a high fever again. Chemotherapy every 14 days has never been interrupted. We have maintained these sterile protection habits ever since.
After the initial visit, we completed 10 chemotherapy cycles in Guangzhou over four months. Even though our accommodation was right next to Yongqing Fang, a 4-minute walk to the hospital, and famous food shops were just down the street, my father still felt miserable, saying it was "like being in prison."
Only after a long illness do you realize that a good mood is the best medicine. We decided to get the treatment plan in Guangzhou, return home for chemotherapy, and go back to Guangzhou for check-ups every three months. This arrangement continues to this day.
However, there were a few setbacks along the way. In 2024, after seven sessions of immunotherapy, his CEA levels skyrocketed from the 30s to 91.02 ng/mL, indicating the regimen was ineffective. We rushed back to Guangzhou and restarted the original plan. This time, we stayed in a guesthouse next to the hospital. If any issues arose, we could just walk to the emergency room, saving the hassle and communication costs of late-night medical visits.
「 V. Resiliently Surviving Through Continuous Recurrences 」
In October 2025, his CEA levels started spiking again. After a multidisciplinary consultation at Zhongshan Sixth Hospital, they decided to perform liver ablation. The process was highly efficient; the day after the consultation, we were notified to be admitted on the third day. We bought tickets for the earliest high-speed train overnight and rushed to Guangzhou.
The first ablation went very smoothly. There were 7 ablation points, and he had almost no postoperative reactions. He returned home to recuperate on the third day after surgery.
The second ablation was in April 2026, with 6 ablation points. My father recalled that on the operating table, he watched through a screen as the doctor carefully examined his liver multiple times, clearing lesions one by one. Only after confirming they were all gone did the doctor tell him, "Everything has been cleaned out."
However, on the night of his discharge, he suddenly developed a high fever. We went to the emergency room at Zhongshan Sixth Hospital. The doctor pulled up his records, conducted precise examinations, and administered targeted medication. Instead of forcing the fever down, they gave him liver-protecting injections. Their professionalism and efficiency were deeply reassuring.
Regarding the recurrence rate for liver ablation, I found data suggesting 80%, while the attending doctor said clinical data shows 62%. Honestly, I'm already content with 80%. The first time, there's an 80% chance of recurrence; the second time, it's 80% of that 80%, which is 64%; now it has dropped to 62%. Every step brings hope for improvement, so what more could I ask for?
「 VI. "Leave Professional Matters to Professionals" 」
I don't have much advice on choosing a hospital, let alone medication. I don't want to suffer unnecessarily with highly professional matters. Moreover, every patient's condition is different, and doctors have different treatment approaches. Visit a few hospitals initially to find your answer. Once you choose an attending physician, trust them firmly and don't waver.
After we were admitted to Zhongshan Sixth Hospital, I once took his medical records to consult an expert in Beijing. The expert frankly said that since we had chosen Zhongshan Sixth Hospital, there was no need to switch. The treatment plan here would be largely the same.
We chose Zhongshan Sixth Hospital because of the doctors' decisive medication and precise plans, and also because my father was physically weak at the time, making conservative internal medicine treatment the best option for us. The only downside is that appointments with Director Deng and Director Zhang are extremely hard to get; every follow-up visit requires waiting like trying to grab Spring Festival train tickets. I am deeply grateful to the relative who recommended this hospital, saving us from detours and leading us straight to a place of hope.
After years of seeking medical care away from home, my most practical advice is to stay as close to the treatment hospital as possible. If that's not feasible, within two or three subway stops is acceptable. Post-chemotherapy emergencies are unpredictable, and staying nearby minimizes risks and reduces hassle.
「 VII. Living Well in the Days of "Hanging On" 」
Now, whenever we are in Guangdong for treatment, I take my parents out to explore and enjoy good food on weekends. My father now has the energy to pick on us. We talk back when needed, speak our minds, and calmly handle his temper, which is proof of his improving health.
Regarding diet, aside from initially avoiding high-fiber foods due to fears of bowel obstruction and tumor rupture, we later lifted all restrictions. Especially in Shenzhen, I occasionally let him try a bite of barbecue or some smoked cured meats. Patients need to be treated like ordinary people; a happy mood is better than any medicine.
At his initial visit in 2023, my father weighed less than 100 jin. Now, he has gained up to 112 jin. I used to worry blindly, thinking the weight gain meant tumor recurrence. During rounds, Director Zhang specifically confirmed and told us it was all fat.
Recently, I reviewed my father's three-year treatment journey. We used the three-drug regimen, adjusting it continuously until we found the right fit. Even now, some people advise us to abandon chemotherapy and switch to traditional Chinese medicine, viewing chemo as a "terrifying beast" that "kills people." Through my father's illness, I've come to believe that cancer is no longer an incurable disease, but a chronic condition requiring lifelong management. Chemotherapy is one of the scientific and effective management methods.
I've also said that no matter the stage, never give up hope. There's a saying in our patient support group that I always remember: "Hang on, and new drugs or new turning points might appear." Who would have thought that my father, once given a "terminal" prognosis, has now safely passed the three-year mark.
「 VIII. Do Your Best, Leave the Rest to Fate 」
During this follow-up visit with my father, I met a woman who had a recurrence after ablation and broke down in the doctor's office. Her attending physician comforted her: "This is just the beginning. If it's on the liver's edge, we cut it out. If it's in the middle, we remove it. If it's deep, we ablate it. There are plenty of options."
[ This spring, the day before the second liver ablation, my parents taking a walk in the wetland park ]
On the cancer journey, we are very compliant patients and caregivers. Doctors are busy; they can't foresee every detail of your condition, nor do they have time to hear the whole backstory. Caregivers should pay close attention to the patient's symptoms daily, noting even details the patient might miss. Organize these abnormalities and communicate the key points to the doctor.
At first, I didn't understand this and thought more detail was always better. Actually, if you have lab or imaging reports, just show them directly to the doctor, and they'll grasp the situation. Efficient communication is the greatest respect for doctors and the best responsibility toward patients.
On May 14 this year, Director Zhang agreed to extend my father's chemotherapy cycle to 21 days. I wonder if this signifies that his treatment is progressing in a better direction.
We can't do the doctors' jobs, but we can understand and follow their analysis and advice. The rest is where we, as caregivers, step in.
Over these three years, I've evolved from a "detached member" of the family. My mother and I have a clear division of labor: when my father is at home, my mother takes care of him; when he comes to Guangzhou for treatment, I handle everything. I think this division works well. Human energy is limited, and balancing tension and relaxation is the key to sustainability.
I always believe that heaven only gives you trials you can bear. It is a great blessing that this trial did not happen when I was too young to care for my parents. Having no regrets is already enough. For the rest, we can only do our best and leave the outcome to fate.
We are not gods; we don't have an omniscient view, nor can we predict the future. Life is unpredictable. Things only become "issues" when they happen. Meet soldiers with weapons, meet floods with earth, tackle each challenge as it comes. This is the survival rule for adults.
In the adult world, nothing ever waits for you to be fully prepared. You are hastily kicked into the whirlpool. On the road, keep on fighting.
To protect patient privacy, names used in this article are pseudonyms.
Images containing the patient's portrait are used with authorization and may not be used without permission.