61 Chemotherapy Sessions, 25 Radiotherapy Sessions, 2 Arterial Infusions: A Four-Year Hard-Fought Battle Against the "King of Cancers" | Patient Story

In June 2022, my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. For nearly four years, my mother and I stood by him in a long, arduous battle against the "king of cancers." He passed away peacefully at home in March 2026. Looking back, he never underwent surgery, joined clinical trials, or took the latest targeted drugs. Instead, he relied on standardized treatment: 61 chemotherapy sessions, 25 radiotherapy sessions, and 2 arterial infusions.

Pancreatic cancer is indeed formidable, but I do not wish to dwell on its cruelty or dramatize the hardships of seeking treatment. I simply want to share with more people: even without surgery, it is possible to live with quality of life despite pancreatic cancer.

Author | A Child Guarded by Stars & Ma Lingshu

Editor | Ma Lingshu

Reviewer | Guang Guang

「 I. CT Reveals a Pancreatic Mass 」

In July 2021, my father was diagnosed with mild Alzheimer’s disease (AD) at Tiantan Hospital.

At that time, aside from forgetfulness, his daily communication was normal, and he could mostly care for himself. Since there is no cure for AD, I dedicated myself to researching neurology to help him. Fortunately, we secured a clinical opportunity at Tiantan Hospital.

During clinical screening, the research team noted his slightly elevated blood sugar. I didn’t pay enough attention at the time, and due to pandemic lockdowns making hospital visits difficult, we only monitored it at home.

In June 2022, just after arriving in Wuzhen for a business trip, I received a call from my mother. His blood sugar had spiked to 17.4 mmol/L, and the hospital insisted on admission. I blamed myself for my negligence. A few days later, the endocrinology department at Jishuitan Hospital called to inform me that his high blood sugar was secondary diabetes, and a CT scan showed a pancreatic mass. He was transferred to surgery.

Soon, the surgeon called to explain the report and asked if we were considering surgery. At the time, my only knowledge of pancreatic cancer was that the "king of cancers causes severe pain." I naively hoped that since he had no pain, it might just be a cyst.

Seeking a definitive diagnosis, I immediately booked appointments with the Pancreatic and Gastric Surgery Department at the Cancer Hospital, Chinese Academy of Medical Sciences (Dongzhong) and the General Surgery Department at Peking Union Medical College Hospital, and rushed back to Beijing from Hangzhou.

「 II. Diagnosed with the "King of Cancers": The Battle Begins 」

The day after returning to Beijing, I visited Director Gao in the Oncology Surgery Department at Jishuitan Hospital. He stated plainly that it was almost certainly pancreatic cancer.

While waiting for our appointment at Dongzhong, I researched papers while reassuring my family that we would find a way. A classmate called and said, "Let me know if you need anything. As only children, we have no backup." I was stunned for a moment, but quickly pulled myself together. Yes, we had no one to fall back on. If I didn’t step up, who would lead my father into this unknown battle?

On July 4, 2022, I took my father to see Director Tian in the Pancreatic and Gastric Surgery Department at Dongzhong, and scheduled a multidisciplinary team (MDT) consultation for July 15. On July 12, I brought the CT and MRI scans to Academician Zhao’s clinic at Peking Union Medical College Hospital. Both surgeons reached the same conclusion: the scans strongly indicated pancreatic cancer, but the tumor encased the splenic artery and vein. They recommended chemotherapy first, followed by a re-evaluation for surgery.

On July 15, I attended the MDT consultation led by Dongzhong’s surgery department, involving medical oncology, radiotherapy, imaging, pathology, and nutrition. The experts’ consensus was to begin treatment in the medical oncology department and reassess surgical options later if feasible.

「 III. "As Long as There Are Choices, There Is a Way" 」

After the MDT, Director Tian asked me to choose a medical oncologist. After careful consideration, I entrusted my father’s life for the coming years to Director Yang in the medical oncology department.

On July 21, my father underwent a biopsy of the pancreatic lesion. That same day, I met Director Yang for the first time, marking the beginning of our nearly four-year journey fighting side by side.

From the day we confirmed our lead doctor at the MDT, I strictly followed the medical team’s plan throughout the entire treatment. We never wasted time or compromised his health with unproven therapies. Throughout the nearly four-year battle, we maintained absolute trust in our medical team and adhered to standardized treatment.

The treatment plan centered on systemic chemotherapy. He completed 61 chemotherapy sessions in total, interspersed with 25 sessions of localized radiotherapy. When intestinal obstruction occurred in the terminal stage, we opted for two sessions of arterial infusion intervention.

After prolonged chemoradiotherapy, the primary pancreatic lesion eventually stabilized in an ideal, inactive, and unmeasurable state. Throughout treatment, we closely monitored side effects to maximize his quality of life. Although he experienced nausea, fatigue, and bone marrow suppression, his overall comfort remained within a manageable range.

Director Yang’s team coordinated and managed his care meticulously, paying special attention to his weight. They personally determined every medication dosage and issued orders only after daily case discussions and ward rounds, based on his real-time condition. After discharge, if he felt unwell, the attending doctor would guide me on symptom management and which department to visit. I followed through promptly and diligently.

During each hospitalization, seeing my father in good spirits brought joy to Director Yang, who felt our nutritional support was highly effective. This unspoken trust between patient and doctor, combined with his high sensitivity to chemotherapy, greatly boosted the medical team’s confidence.

Until his final anti-tumor treatment, my father’s weight remained stable at 71 kg. This was largely thanks to my mother, who creatively prepared soft, nutritious meals, offered small frequent protein-rich portions, and regularly fed him milk, nutritional supplements, and eggs every two hours. Even in the terminal stage, with meticulous nutritional support, his weight stayed above 68 kg. Fellow pancreatic cancer patients know how hard-won this is.

By late 2024, peritoneal metastases began to progress. In early 2025, Director Yang presented four options. I carefully organized them into a mind map for comparison. Due to his AD, he was ineligible for clinical trials. We ultimately chose RC48 (disitamab vedotin). After three cycles, his condition was assessed as SD (stable disease).

However, after starting this medication, his daily sleep increased, and he lost 10 jin (5 kg). After consulting Director Yang, we resumed the AG regimen. Under the nutrition department’s guidance, his weight recovered to 72 kg. During the second AG cycle, Director Yang had a candid talk with me. She explained that at this stage, the goal was no longer tumor shrinkage, but ensuring my father’s comfort and maintaining disease stability.

[ Imaging on November 25, 2025, after resuming AG ]

After developing resistance to the resumed AG regimen at 180 days, I brought my organized medical records and mind map to discuss new options with Director Yang. I mentioned that one liposomal option remained unused. She comforted me: "As long as there are choices, there is still a way."

「 IV. I Became the "Superman" on My Father’s Cancer Journey 」

Before my father fell ill, I was practically a "hands-off manager" when it came to caregiving. After his diagnosis, I suddenly realized I had to become the family’s pillar, taking full responsibility for everything related to his treatment.

To spare him unnecessary trips, whenever his white blood cell or platelet counts dropped, I would get the medication from the ER and administer subcutaneous injections at home (please do not imitate this; I had received professional training). Sometimes, nervousness led me to inject intradermally instead of subcutaneously, which hurt more. Yet, he always praised my steady hand, saying it didn’t hurt at all. My heart ached, but avoiding hospital trips made it worthwhile.

Two and a half years post-diagnosis, as metastases progressed, I sought more information. I saw Director Han’s patient education videos on social media and promptly joined the "Pancreas Group 1." I received invaluable support from Teacher Ruirui, Director Han, Teacher Charis, and Teacher Xiaoxin.

Director Han offered selfless guidance on medical decisions. Knowing our 18.2 positive status, Ruirui called us on WeChat to share relevant clinical insights and daily care tips. Charis accompanied us throughout, offering constant encouragement. Xiaoxin was fully available during the terminal stage, especially in managing infectious complications and navigating medical resources. Meanwhile, I met many fellow patients in the group who, despite their struggles, kept fighting. We supported each other and moved forward together.

I diligently studied the group’s educational materials and researched independently to build a systematic understanding of treatment. I avoided bothering doctors with fragmented questions, consulting them only when necessary for critical decisions.

A group member once joked, "To treat this disease, we caregivers have studied surgery, imaging, lab tests, oncology, radiotherapy, nutrition, interventional radiology, emergency medicine, infectious diseases, gastroenterology, and even MDTs." Though said in jest, it’s undeniable that pancreatic cancer caregivers are among the most dedicated. Our support group likely sees the highest frequency of farewells. When someone passes, we bid them well, then turn back to discuss side effects and treatment plans. As we say, "Keep fighting."

I was so cautious during the pandemic that I avoided catching COVID. In 2022, we had strict chemotherapy schedules. If I fell ill, no one could take him. When he tested positive, I suited up to deliver medication at home, ensuring he recovered within seven days to not miss his next cycle. Back then, he was still strong, and he indeed recovered quickly without delaying treatment.

Over nearly four years of accompanying my father, I grew increasingly resilient and brave. Our family supported each other through every hurdle. When he felt down, I’d shower him with praise to lift his spirits. I monitored his meals and walks via video calls, planned new trips, and promised him good food after each "nutrition shot" (chemotherapy). These small hopes repeatedly fueled our spirit. In tough times, we comforted each other, narrowing our focus to daily essentials like eating, sleeping, and using the restroom.

Most pancreatic cancer patients endure not only treatment side effects but also overwhelming emotional turmoil, which can disrupt eating and rest. Many caregivers also struggle with anxiety. I even visited a specialized hospital for a psychological evaluation. The doctor told me, "You’re perfectly fine. Go home. If you feel stressed, just exercise."

The doctors’ plans and fellow patients’ encouragement transformed my anxiety into fighting strength. 2025 was our final year of anti-tumor treatment. We were hospitalized 26 times. I took night shifts every time so my mother, who handled his daily care, could rest.

During hospital stays, if we got a window bed, I’d say, "We’d go to the beach to sunbathe anyway. Here in Beijing, we can sunbathe in bed. I’ll get you skewers and wine—let’s see if it feels like a vacation." In summer, I actually dressed him in resort wear for the hospital. I’d secretly bring him skewers, treating hospitalization like a family trip. I wanted to be his warmest comfort.

「 V. Four Years of Cancer Battle, Ten Cities Traveled, Coexisting with the King of Cancers 」

The nearly four-year battle was a long series of hurdles, marked by chemo side effects and metastatic progression. I gradually learned to read lab reports and understand medical jargon, but my greatest change was learning to cherish ordinary days.

In 2022, hospital visits required PCR tests and involved cumbersome procedures. Initially, my parents preferred no treatment. I consulted my former supervisor, who recalled walking with his ailing father in the sunset outside Friendship Hospital. He advised me to seize the time, travel with my father while his condition was stable, and create lasting family memories.

[ Traveling at Qinghai Lake after diagnosis ]

After consulting our lead doctor, we immediately set off for Qinghai Lake. Looking back, we were diagnosed relatively early. Our firm decision to travel was based on scans showing no metastasis and surgery being unfeasible. This approach may not suit all patients.

At that juncture, travel served to reassure my parents, let them see the beautiful landscapes, and strengthen our resolve for treatment. It was also our family’s first—and perhaps last—long trip. I secretly planned to bring him back for chemotherapy no matter what. Even if it failed, at least we had measured the land together as a family.

Later, as I learned more about treatment, I realized our choice aligned with "palliative care" principles, focusing on quality of life. I also recommend that patients visit a palliative care clinic alongside active treatment. Director Ning at Peking Union Medical College Hospital has specialized in this field for over a decade and offers highly valuable guidance.

Whenever his condition allowed between treatments, I arranged family trips. We made time and seized opportunities, visiting ten different cities. We saw Guilin’s landscapes, relaxed by the sea, and sampled local snacks in unfamiliar alleys. During trips, my father shed his patient identity, strolling through markets as he used to, and was often asked by fellow travelers to pose for photos. Each journey became a small victory in our cancer battle, uplifting the whole family.

[ December 2025 (3.5 years post-diagnosis), we traveled to Sanya together ]

Even in December 2025, our family of three went to Sanya. I let my father rest on a real beach and gave my hardworking mother a break, taking over his daily care. Treatment is hard, but more importantly, a person is a person first, a patient second. My father’s life shouldn’t just be about the hospital nearby or the one far away; we had to find ways to see the wider world.

Later, discussing this with Director Ning, I learned that my seemingly lenient "rule-breaking" actually provided psychological comfort. She explained that this "de-patientization" care effectively alleviates the oppression of frequent hospital visits.

[ Final evaluation at Dongzhong ]

Throughout these nearly four years, my father remained in good spirits. This deeply taught me that medicine is not just a technical battle, but also a warmth of kinship. While fighting the "king of cancers," we must not deprive patients of their right to experience life. Perhaps this sense of ease is a hidden yet powerful force in healing.

「 VI. No Matter How Hard, We Must Celebrate Spring Festival Well: A Family Promise 」

For the four Spring Festivals after diagnosis, we always stayed up together and made dumplings at home. On the eve of the 2026 Spring Festival, my father developed gastrointestinal bleeding, infection, intestinal obstruction, and sputum plugs. I knew his condition had entered the terminal stage.

[ Spring Festival 2026 ]

To bring him home for the holiday, I set up a "mini nurse station" at home for his IV drips. I’m not a professional, and this isn’t recommended, but I knew that for a pancreatic cancer patient who survived nearly four years on chemoradiotherapy without surgery, intestinal obstruction meant time was measured in days. That Spring Festival had to be spent together at home.

Previously, he had been transferred between several hospitals for complications. I even opted for general anesthesia to perform bronchoscopy and lung lavage, controlling the infection and slightly relieving the obstruction. His indicators were acceptable, so I took a leap before the holiday, overcame difficulties, and brought him home on parenteral nutrition, hiring a visiting nurse for his port. My thinking was simple: if others can learn nursing skills, so can I. This might truly be our last Spring Festival together.

During the holiday, we were truly home. My father sat on the sofa with an IV drip and a nasogastric tube. I played the piano for him, he sang for me, and his beloved little dog kept him company. After four years of fighting cancer, I gradually realized that "cancer battle" is more a practice of "how to live well."

On Spring Festival day, I took him to the hospital for a blood test. Surprisingly, all results were perfectly normal with no abnormal flags. Looking back, it might have been a false impression from immune-boosting injections.

My father preferred resting in the living room. To care for him, I slept on a mattress at his feet to monitor him closely. In the early hours of New Year’s Eve, he expressed discomfort. I took him to Peking Union Medical College Hospital. After emergency tests, the infection relapsed, and the hospital administered anti-infective treatment again. The chief resident spoke to me earnestly, suggesting that a palliative care ward would offer better quality of life. At 71 kg, I was deeply reluctant, but I understood we might have reached that point.

I requested to return home after daily IVs. On the first day after inserting a gastric decompression tube, on the way to the hospital, we detoured to Tiananmen Square. I couldn’t stop crying in the passenger seat, knowing it might be his last time seeing it. I also specifically took him to the National Centre for the Performing Arts, where he had once performed. Only after this did we go to the hospital for his IV.

[ February 19, 2026, on the way to the hospital, we detoured to see Tiananmen ]

After my father passed, I visited Director Ning’s grief counseling clinic again. She strongly affirmed every key decision I made during treatment, including that detour to Tiananmen Square. It was a profoundly important stroke in the final chapter of his life.

「 VII. Waving Goodbye with Grace, Leaving Warmth for Fellow Patients 」

On the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, Professor Mao at Shanghai Ruijin Hospital agreed to see my father for his intestinal obstruction. I immediately bought high-speed rail tickets and took him to Shanghai.

In Shanghai, we removed the intestinal obstruction catheter and completed two sessions of five-drug combined arterial infusion. Two days before he passed, a CT scan showed significant relief of intestinal adhesions, blood oxygen at 100%, and no obvious abdominal swelling. Of course, other blood markers had long turned red, but at least, I felt the trip to Shanghai relieved his obstruction discomfort, making it worthwhile.

Doctors in Beijing could certainly handle it, but it was Spring Festival. Seeing him uncomfortable, I couldn’t wait a moment longer.

At 3:50 AM on March 14, my father said he wanted to vomit. I helped him sit up. After vomiting, he developed rattling breaths. He could still cooperate as I turned him to pat his back, but his eyes lost focus. I immediately found a doctor, requested oxygen and vasopressors, and decided to return to Beijing, forgoing resuscitation in Shanghai.

Over 14 hours and 1,280 kilometers, his blood oxygen rose from 65 in Shanghai, to 70 in Jiangsu, 80 in Shandong, and 90 in Tianjin. Hearing we were getting closer to home, those numbers climbed steadily. Upon entering Beijing, it reached 95. My father was incredibly strong, holding on until we reached our home in Beijing.

Throughout this long journey, Dr. Ding from the Puhuangyu Palliative Care Center guided me continuously. My mother and I talked to him the whole way, telling him the whole family was waiting for him to come home.

Two hours after returning home, surrounded by waiting family, my father passed away peacefully in his familiar surroundings, without struggle or obvious cancer pain. Looking back on these four years, beyond sorrow lies peace of mind and gratitude.

We never had the chance for surgery, but Director Yang fully accepted our trust, coordinating standardized treatment throughout the anti-tumor phase. Our gains far exceeded expectations in both survival and quality of life. Therefore, I want to share my father’s story with patients and families still fighting the "king of cancers," especially those ineligible for surgery. Please do not easily give up hope. My father’s resilience proves that with standardized treatment, a stable mindset, and strict nutritional support, it is still possible to live a quality daily life.

Along this journey, I am deeply grateful to the doctors who answered questions and offered help, the fellow warriors fighting cancer alongside us, and the countless strangers who offered kind encouragement. Director Han from the Panda Group told me my father’s case is already an excellent example in pancreatic cancer treatment and hoped I would share my experiences. Thank you, Director Han. I also wish all families battling the "king of cancers" achieve CR (complete response) or SD (stable disease). The courage and love my father left me will forever remain in my heart, reminding me to live well and move forward earnestly with his hopes.

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

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

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