A Year Today - Remembering Andrea

It’s been a year today since my husband Andrea passed away. He left behind three growing boys and a wife – me. Andrea heroically battled advanced pancreatic cancer for nearly two years from initial diagnosis.

Early outlooks had been bleak, with ‘11-months’ offered up as a best-case scenario. Life as we knew it changed completely and we entered a surreal world of the ‘seriously ill’ at full tilt. My husband and I suddenly found ourselves besieged with medical words and phrases that we were unfamiliar with but which we needed to know, words that were thrown around randomly by medical experts and that we struggled to comprehend whilst still reeling emotionally from the diagnosis.

Andrea was immediately thrown into invasive chemotherapy, with a difficult outlook. It was hard on him physically and mentally yet somehow, he managed to find the strength to fight this difficult cancer, constantly researching and contriving new methods, and keeping doctors on their toes with the latest information. He did this with a strength of mind that was astonishing, always retaining a sense of humbleness in the face of such adversity. He explored spirituality and the art of being grateful as a means of coping mentally with a terminal cancer diagnosis. He found strength in his family and his friendships, as well as his work. He made friendships with people who were undergoing the same difficulties as him. He wrote this blog, for his children, so they could remember the key events in his life and how he fought to stick around for as long as possible for them, and he wrote it for other patients going through similar difficulties, to share what he had learnt and to try and encourage them to keep battling on.

Somehow, we muddled along as a family whilst he underwent treatment. This was difficult. There were many long hours spent in hospitals, the inevitable challenges regarding what to share with the children, and what to try and shield them from. On many occasions, when treatment was working well, he would seem to turn a corner; we saw that that the chemotherapy was working, that perhaps some of these alternative treatments he was trying were doing something to help him. For a short while a lighter atmosphere would prevail in our household.

A global pandemic did not help. Covid meant that he couldn’t see family or friends. It meant that I could not be with him in hospital when he received treatment. It meant that, in his last week in hospital, our children could only go in to say goodbye for the briefest of moments, and that other family members could not.

Tough and surreal times.

My husband took a downturn in his cancer treatment towards the end of August 2020. The chemotherapy treatment Folfirinox, which had worked well for him, stopped being effective. He switched from this to Gemcitabine & Abraxane, and while this treatment did work for a short while, it never seemed to take full control in battling the cancer which continued to spread, eventually going to his lungs. A last attempt at a third chemotherapy did, in my opinion, little to help (although he was determined!) and it was whilst undergoing this treatment in December of 2020 that he passed away, having stopped the treatment only a week and a half prior due to breathing difficulties.

In every moment, what has stood out for me most has been the difference that human kindness can make in a situation. I remember with gratitude the dedication of the oncologist that treated Andrea, the hard working attitude and care of the on-ward doctor and amazing nurse at The Platinum Centre that treated Andrea every time he underwent chemotherapy, the warmth of the oncologists at Hospital San Rossore in Pisa, the amazing and heroic staff at St John’s Hospice and the rather special on-ward doctor at The Wellington hospital, who helped me understand where we stood the day before my husband passed away.

This last year has been a bit of a blur, readjusting to a life without a husband and father, the horrible administration that follows a family death (heaven forbid that you don’t pay your tax on time), the inevitability of life such as important end of school exams (taken under Covid), eldest children leaving for university, and days and weeks which continue to pass despite everything. It has been the warmth and kindness of family and friends that have helped us carry on, and that have made the biggest difference in this continuously spinning, Covid-ridden world.

My husband Andrea was a passionate, vivacious man; highly intelligent, funny, and full of life. He would want to be remembered in this way and I do hope that other cancer patients battling this disease or indeed any other cancer or illness, will find some inspiration to keep fighting from this blog – he would have wanted that.

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From Thomas

My dad was a kind-hearted, amiable man who, even after his difficult diagnosis, had always kept a positive outlook on life, as I’m sure you could tell from his blog. What amazed me the most about how my father approached his battle against the disease, was his mental strength. He never gave up. Although his appearance changed as he gradually got weaker, the upbeat and hilarious man that I had always known, never changed. My dad taught me many things; he taught me maths, he taught me how to play football (even though he wasn’t that great himself), he taught me how to cycle (twice), he taught me which football team to support. But what will always stick with me, was his sense of humour. He showed to me that you can pretty much always make a joke, and most importantly, you have to stay positive no matter what situation you’re in. And even now, exactly one year after his death, I’d like to think he’s still watching me and my family, still watching inter games, still cracking jokes in his strong Italian accent (which me and my brothers never failed to point out).

I’ll miss him, but I’ll never forget him. Ti amo papa.

From Alberto

It feels bizarre to return to this time of year, as if the last one hasn’t been a complete blur. There were times when I felt helpless, alone, distraught. And yet, it was in these sad moments that I remembered the most wonderful memories with and about my dad. He was genuinely the warmest person I had ever met, always cracking jokes, always trying to lift the mood, even in the bleakest of scenarios. He almost had a necessity to try and make everyone as happy as possible, as if it was his own personal mission, as if his life depended on it. What amazed me was how this continued even after his illness, and the happiness he infected people with just kept spreading, ironically more than Covid had in the last year prior to his death. My brother says that what will always stick with him was his amazing sense of humour, but for me it’s more his mission to just cheer people up, and I hope I can try and do the same thing for my family and friends. I owe so much of my life to him: I’m crazy about football because of him, I am studying maths at university because of the passion he instilled within me, and I spend so much of my free time playing chess because of how interested he was in it. My dad was just a wonderful, wonderful person, and I hope I can try and make other people even a small percentage of how happy he made them, because he was truly unique.

Grazie papa, per avermi fatto la persona che sono oggi; ti ricordero per sempre. Ti voglio bene.

From Giorgio

My dad is the most inspirational person I have ever known. Despite suffering from a terrible illness, he always managed to keep a positive outlook on life, always helping me with my maths, even though he would have much more pressing issues at hand. No matter what, he would always look after me and my two brothers. He was always kind, caring, and supportive- even when he was in great pain. He instilled in me the love of maths and football as well as in my older brothers; always making sure that I was happy at school. He was always smiling and trying to keep in a happy mood even in the worst of times. He was always calm and patient when I didn’t quite get something in maths or any subject for that matter; always helping me in any way possible. He spent a lot of time with me and my brothers; and for that I love him.

Lo ti voglio bene papa.