When the Cancer Journey Ends: After Letting Go of My Son, I Found the Answer to Life | Patient Story

At the end of 2025, Sister Shi from Shijiazhuang shared her and her son’s story with us. As a long-time member of the Panda Group, she repeatedly expressed her gratitude: “We are deeply thankful for the Panda Group’s support along this journey. Joining truly helped us avoid many detours.”

At that time, Sister Shi had already accompanied her son through four years of fighting cancer. His condition was late-stage colon cancer with multiple metastases to the lungs, liver, peritoneum, and pleura, and he began developing ascites in June 2025.

Over these years, Sister Shi was either at the hospital or on the way to it. Yet, she displayed a rare state of mind, one often seen in caregivers of early-stage patients.

After her son fell ill, Sister Shi came to understand a profound truth: “We must pursue active treatment while maintaining reasonable psychological expectations.” She said that everyone grows through hardship, and we must learn to allow things to happen as they will. She and her son openly discussed his condition, his anxiety, and even death. “If you dare not face it, it will still come.”

Four years is a long time for a late-stage cancer patient. For a mother, it was the final time she shared with her son, bought with all her wisdom and courage.

—————

Author | Guangguang & Maling Shu

Editor | Maling Shu

Reviewer | Guangguang

The following article is compiled from Sister Shi’s own account:

「 I. A Sudden Double Crisis 」

On October 8, 2021, my son suddenly suffered an acute myocardial infarction and was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. While hospitalized in the cardiology department, he kept telling me he couldn’t see clearly and had black stools. Sensing something was wrong, I urged him to get a full-body CT scan. A few days later, he was diagnosed with colon cancer.

Neither heart attacks nor tumors run in our family, yet both struck our child in the prime of his life, and both were life-threatening.

My son was 34 that year, a graduate of a prestigious university, diligent and ambitious in his career. On the day of his diagnosis, I told him the truth directly. His education, knowledge, and perspective were all higher than mine; whether he was mature enough to handle it was his own matter. He was an adult and shouldn’t be kept in the dark, nor could he be. I told him that whatever happened, we would face it together.

To fight for a chance at survival for my child, I took his medical reports everywhere, seeking advice. A provincial cardiology expert suggested I choose a hospital with comprehensive diagnostic and treatment capabilities that could address both his heart and tumor issues simultaneously.

Hearing that the provincial cancer hospital had a cardiology department, I went there immediately to communicate with the department director, earnestly stating my request: first, stabilize his heart attack to save his life, then strive for intestinal tumor surgery.

After careful evaluation, the doctors advised us to go home for medication and conditioning first. Once his heart function stabilized and met the surgical criteria, we could return for treatment.

Fate is cold, yet it sometimes hides a glimmer of light.

Just a month and a half after the heart attack, on November 24, 2021, my son successfully underwent surgery to remove a right-sided ascending colon tumor.

Actually, according to the timeline previously given by experts in Beijing and the province, it would have taken at least half a year to meet the surgical standards. I later learned that precisely because he hadn’t received a heart stent at the time, he just barely met the surgical criteria.

The surgery carried extremely high risks. The chief surgeon dared not operate alone and specially invited a former mentor, who had already transferred to another hospital, to return and assist. Only through the combined efforts of these two senior experts did my son survive this critical hurdle.

A week after surgery, he was transferred back to cardiology, where a stent was placed in his right coronary artery, and long-term treatment began. He took heart medications while completing eight cycles of the XELOX regimen (oxaliplatin combined with capecitabine) on schedule.

「 II. Embracing Uncertainty, Yet Giving Our All 」

During treatment, we followed medical advice for regular check-ups, and my son’s condition remained stable.

But reality is ultimately cruel. When the eight treatment cycles ended and we thought it was over, a follow-up CT scan showed multiple lung metastases, and his condition progressed to late-stage colon cancer.

At that time, we had no real concept of what “late-stage” meant. Instantly, relatives and friends called to offer condolences, but every word of concern pierced my heart. I declined all greetings, wanting only to be alone for a while.

When an ordinary family is struck by a terminal illness, you can only rely on yourselves. During that period, I scoured medical information online every day, hoping for a miracle. By chance, I came across an expert from Beijing Cancer Hospital on Douyin. Holding onto a last shred of hope, I sent the expert a private message, detailing my son’s unique situation. I expected it to go unanswered, but I quickly received a reply. The expert asked, “Do you want to come to Beijing for treatment? We have a multidisciplinary consultation tomorrow.”

At 8 a.m. the next day, my son and I arrived at the hospital on time. The doctors participating in the consultation were all top experts whose appointments are usually impossible to secure, which greatly surprised me. The helplessness, confusion, and fear I had bottled up for so long finally found a place to rest. My son and I immediately decided to continue his treatment at Beijing Cancer Hospital.

After the consultation, hearing that the hospital director would hold another consultation the following Tuesday, I left all his treatment records and pathology slides, and finally had my son complete the required tests as instructed. Thirteen days later, he was successfully admitted to Beijing Cancer Hospital, beginning a long and protracted battle against cancer.

However, this fight was far more difficult than we imagined. The treatment plan was adjusted and changed five or six times. We tried ablation, interventional therapy, and radiotherapy, but the lung lesions could never be completely cleared. Every follow-up scan would reveal two or three new nodules in the lungs. Soon after, metastases also appeared in the liver.

I had already accepted the uncertainty of the disease and embraced the fluctuations and unpredictability of late-stage tumors. But acceptance does not mean giving up. We adjusted our strategy, tackling each challenge as it came, striving to find a balance between disease control and a stable life within the reality of an incurable condition.

「 III. The Cruelty and Mercy of Fate 」

In 2023, my son’s condition continued to fluctuate, and my mental stress reached its peak. Seeing me grow increasingly haggard, he urged me to go out for a walk and stop revolving my entire life around him.

I went to Sichuan with a friend. In a temple near the Leshan Giant Buddha, I made a donation alongside my friend. I don’t believe in Buddhism, so I asked for nothing. Suddenly, a monk called out to me. He said, “You are destined for a life of toil,” and then added, “Your son is facing unprecedented difficulties.”

I have always been strong, but in that environment, having someone voice the deepest torment in my heart, my tears couldn’t help but fall.

For so many years, my husband has been entirely devoted to his work, unable to attend to family matters or share the physical and mental burdens of seeking medical care. Every household chore, every step of my child’s treatment, every obstacle in our medical journey—I bore it all alone, gritting my teeth.

I had accumulated too much pressure and grievance. I am not a deity, just an ordinary woman and a mother. Under years of high-pressure burdens, I too get tired, hurt, and overwhelmed. Those two short sentences shattered all my feigned strength, and my tears flowed uncontrollably.

The monk’s words struck right at my heart. He said I was a strong mother, and that my son had made it this far entirely because of my support. He told me that although the road ahead would be hard, I would always meet helpful people along the way.

Though fate is cruel, I have always felt incredibly fortunate. As the monk said, we encountered one helpful person after another along this journey.

To better care for my son, during that time, I accompanied him through treatments while constantly reading materials and consulting literature, desperately learning relevant knowledge. Fortunately, I came across Director Han’s article, “A Beijing Middle-Aged Man’s Notes on Fighting Late-Stage Colon Cancer.” The article covered everything from treatment details and medication logic to follow-up priorities and caregiver mindset building. It was comprehensive and highly practical, deeply touching me and completely pulling me out of my confusion.

It was precisely because of this article that I found my way into the Panda Group. Volunteers like Yunduo, Axing, Daqi, and Ruirui shared their experiences without reservation, patiently answered questions, and repeatedly guided me out of misconceptions, helping me avoid countless detours.

Director Han also gave us the greatest reassurance, telling us to feel at ease receiving treatment at Beijing Cancer Hospital, as it boasts the best medical resources in the north, sparing us from running around elsewhere.

All suffering brings gifts, and all kindness echoes. I firmly believe that everything is arranged for the best, and the kindness I have given will always return to us in another form.

「 IV. Trusting the Doctors, and Trusting Ourselves 」

Having been in the Panda Group for years, I’ve seen too many families grow more exhausted and panicked as treatment progresses, and it worries me deeply. Some people overcomplicate cancer fighting, but the first step is to clear your own mind.

Volunteer Guangguang once said, find the right doctor, follow his guidance, and 90% of your worries will vanish. On the cancer journey, don’t chase every rumor, don’t anticipate anxiety, and never use fellow patients’ experiences as evidence to argue with doctors. Group advice can be referenced, but it can never replace the professional clinical judgment of frontline physicians.

My approach is simple: once you choose a doctor, trust him completely and don’t obsess over the outcome. Especially in late-stage cases like ours, lower your psychological expectations. At the same time, prepare contingency plans in advance. The resources and advice repeatedly shared in the group must be saved and noted down. Know where the disease might progress, who to contact, and where to seek treatment.

Regarding diet, I also have my own methods. First, ensure he can eat, then focus on nutrition. I’ve always been meticulous about cooking, personally arranging all three of my son’s meals daily, constantly varying the dishes so they never repeat. Being able to eat is the key; then gradually incorporate high protein, multiple vitamins, and diverse ingredients. Though prepared simply at home, nutritional balance is guaranteed.

[ Ingredients Sister Shi prepared for her son ]

I also place great importance on blood parameter management. I strictly follow the plan volunteer Ruirui gave me. I repeatedly review the group’s materials, carefully study others’ experiences, and apply them by analogy when similar situations arise. I may lack creativity, but my execution is strong; I ensure every instructed task is done thoroughly.

To me, the Panda Group is not just an ordinary chat group; it is a true family. Here, I gained knowledge and felt genuine kindness and great love. I often think that while I may not have extraordinary skills, being able to learn earnestly and act diligently has already benefited me immensely.

[ Sister Shi diligently studies important knowledge from the group and carefully records blood parameters under Ruirui’s guidance ]

I rarely discuss my son’s condition with relatives and friends. They lack medical resources, and sharing only adds to their worry. Words of comfort cannot solve problems, and I would only have to manage various inquiries, which are all ineffective social interactions. Rather than that, it’s better to bear it myself and solve it myself.

I often tell fellow group members: It’s okay to feel anxious, but don’t drown in it; it’s okay to learn from others’ experiences, but don’t blindly follow trends; it’s okay to lower expectations, but never give up trying.

The Panda Group is like an umbrella that sheltered me during my darkest times, bringing me warmth. Now, I am willing to share these experiences, hoping to help more people.

「 V. The Final Farewell 」

After joining the group, my mindset gradually shifted. Life is like ocean waves, with rises and falls; unpredictability is the norm. What matters most is how you choose to view it.

Initially, my son completely struggled to accept reality. I could feel his fear and anxiety about death. During that time, all I could do was encourage him. I would handle the financial and daily burdens, but ultimately, only he could save himself. I told him that the situation was what it was; anxiety and fear would change nothing. He had to rely on himself.

Follow-up imaging results always come down to three possibilities: progression, stability, or shrinkage. I often told him to follow the doctor’s plan if it progresses, and to be happy if it shrinks. We must not give up just because of progression. Later, our conversations grew deeper, and we even spoke openly about death.

In the past, we deliberately avoided this topic, which only increased our anxiety. After joining the Panda Group, Teacher Saxophone’s words awakened me. His courage to face death directly made me realize: Life and death are everyone’s destination, and there is no need to avoid them. Especially for late-stage cancer patients and their families, viewing things rationally and lowering expectations is not pessimism, but clarity.

Chinese culture traditionally avoids discussing death, but the more we avoid it, the greater the fear and pressure in our hearts. Once we truly dare to face it, we feel grounded and know how to treat the illness and how to live.

My son had lung and liver metastases, plus a history of heart attack. No one knows whether tomorrow or an accident will come first. Influenced by Teacher Saxophone, I proactively discussed life and death with my son. To my surprise, he was more open-minded than I expected. From initially fearing death and breaking down in anxiety, to later facing it calmly and living actively, these four years were not only his cancer journey but also my path of growth.

Many in the group are still trapped in anxiety, constantly fixating on treatment plans while neglecting mindset. In truth, on the cancer journey, mindset is just as important as treatment.

I often tell my son that we are creating miracles every day.

Having gone through all this, I have learned to accept unpredictability and allow everything to happen. Death, anxiety, recurrence, and metastasis will not disappear just because we fear them. Rather than agonizing over them, it is better to live in the present and cherish every day with family.

Though physically exhausted, my heart is at peace and content. Even if tomorrow were the end, tonight we must still live well.

「 VI. Postscript 」

In March 2026, Sister Shi’s son passed away. She told us, “My child has gone to prepare a new home.”

Death is not a failure; it is simply the end of this long “battle.” Along this road, there were moments of brief stability and seemingly reachable hope. But only after truly experiencing it all can one understand the weight of the word “acceptance.” Accept unpredictability, accept recurrence and metastasis, and accept the boundaries of medicine.

Under fate’s heavy blows, we can use reason to combat chaos and calmness to dissolve fear. Rather than exhausting the rest of our lives in the shadow of the unknown, it is better to spend our energy on the tangible aspects of life.

The light she once received from others is now carefully passed by her to those who need it more. This farewell is not an end, but a continuation—leaving experience to fellow travelers, keeping calm for herself, and holding love forever in her heart.

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

Images featuring the patient's portrait are used with authorization and may not be reproduced without permission.

< Advanced Technology for Easy Colon Cancer Screening | Fecal DNA | Non-Colonoscopy Early Screening >