A New Hope

The most frustrating and, if I'm honest, heartbreaking thing about this whole situation is that Mum's end-of-life prognosis isn't actually because of the cancer itself, but because of a bowel blockage caused by scar tissue from the original surgery to remove her tumour.

We had absolutely no idea what to expect when we brought Mum home from hospital.

The doctors had explained that, because of the blockage, she was no longer able to take in any liquids. No water. Nothing. She could only taste small amounts of things to take the edge off.

So what did that actually mean?

Were we really just going to sit and watch Mum drift in and out of sleep, unable to eat or drink, while her body slowly shut down? Was this what the final days of her life were going to look like?Honestly, i was petrified.

We were told that Mum was entering the final two weeks of her life. Two weeks maximum.

Well, today, 12th November 2026, marks exactly two weeks since that prognosis, and Mum is still here with us.

And, quite honestly, things haven't quite gone the way we were expecting. Surprisingly, in a good way.

When we got mum home, each evening, we would all gather around her bed, sing some of her favourite hymns and read a Psalm from the Bible together.

There is something incredibly special about these evenings. Despite the sadness, the fear and the uncertainty surrounding us, those moments seemed to lift everyone's spirits. They brought us together and helped us feel closer to God during a time when everything felt so hopeless.

It became something we all looked forward to.

The doctors had also told us that Mum would no longer be able to go to the toilet because the blockage was complete. However, by just the second day of being home, Mum started having bowel movements again.

Not only that, but she was also able to tolerate a liquid diet.

What was happening?

Was this a miracle? Was God being so gracious and kind, giving us a little more time with Mum? Did this mean she might live longer than the two weeks we had been told?

I don't think any of us quite knew what to make of it.

Then, over the following ten days, we started noticing more and more positive changes.

Mum seemed to be getting a little stronger each day. She was slowly learning to walk again with the help of a walking aid, she was maintaining a liquid diet and she was continuing to have regular bowel movements.

I understand that Mum is still very, very poorly. We aren't suddenly back to where we were before, and we know that. But when you've been told that someone you love has just days or weeks left to live, these little improvements feel absolutely enormous.

After around ten days at home, Mum had a conversation with her oncologist. He had clearly noticed all the positive changes too, and, well, he was actually lost for words.

He said:

"Mrs Brandon, you need to understand this is a very unique situation, one that I myself have never seen before. All the changes that have happened to you since you returned home have been positive, and I'm not sure what to even advise."

I honestly couldn't quite believe my ears.

We had hope again.

And hope is EVERYTHING.

I felt this huge rush of relief, almost as though I could finally breathe again. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had something to hold onto. Something positive to focus on. Something that made the future feel just a tiny bit less frightening.

Of course, we still have so many unanswered questions. None of us knows what these changes mean or what will happen next. We don't know whether Mum will live beyond the two weeks the doctors originally anticipated, and we know that her situation remains incredibly serious.

But right now, none of that takes away from the fact that Mum is still here.

She's still with us. We're still getting to spend time together. We're still having conversations, sharing moments and making memories.

And for that, I am so incredibly thankful.

I don't know whether these changes are a miracle. I don't know what God's plan is, and I certainly don't pretend to understand it.

But I do know that my faith has carried me through some incredibly dark days, and I will continue to put my trust in Him.

For now, I'm choosing to hold onto the hope we have been given, to be grateful for every little improvement and to treasure every single day we have together.

Because if this journey has taught me anything, it's that tomorrow is never guaranteed.

"Where there is life, there is hope".