Lonneke Schaars
My name is Lonneke Schaars and I am the mother of four sons. My mother Els, a loving grandmother to nine grandchildren, died in 2018, eight weeks after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She was a remarkable, caring person who was always there for others.
My mother had been experiencing stomach pain for some time and had already visited her GP several times. To investigate further, the GP took a blood sample on 30 July 2018. That same day, Mum was told that her liver values were abnormal. An ultrasound at the hospital the following day revealed a large tumour on her pancreas and many metastases. A few hours later, the doctor came to her home with the news. It felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath our feet. The worst possible outcome had become a reality; Mum described it as her death sentence.
At the hospital, Mum was offered three options: supportive treatment through an intravenous drip, palliative chemotherapy that might extend her life by an average of three months, or returning home without further treatment. She chose to go home.
My mother had been a nurse and knew that chemotherapy would make her feel even more unwell. She wanted to spend the time she had left feeling as well as possible, at home with the people she loved. There was nowhere else she needed to be; she simply wanted us to be together. At first, I felt sad and angry because I wanted to keep her with me for as long as possible. I now understand her decision and am grateful that her suffering was kept to a minimum. The eight weeks we shared were incredibly precious. I did not leave her side for a single day.
Through a friend, we contacted Professor Casper van Eijck for a second opinion. Sadly, he also had to confirm that little more could be done because the cancer had spread to my mother's liver. After several days of shock and disbelief, she made a conscious decision to move forward and began arranging everything for her funeral. Knowing that everything was settled gave her peace, and it gave us peace too. She spared us so much work and distress. My mother was a beautiful, strong and courageous woman.
During the night of 1 October 2018, I sat beside her bed. She was in severe pain and was receiving morphine and midazolam. I whispered, "Mum, it’s your father’s birthday." She responded. My mother had lost her father at a young age, which had affected her deeply; she had always loved and missed him. Her final words to us were: "My work here is done. I want to leave you with one last thought: be there for kind people who need a helping hand, in whatever way you can. It will enrich your life. No amount of money can equal that." She died that morning, on my grandfather’s birthday, with us beside her.
My heartfelt wish is for everyone, and doctors in particular, to recognise just how aggressive pancreatic cancer is. It is often diagnosed too late, so warning signs must be identified sooner and symptoms must be taken seriously. We need earlier diagnosis and better treatments so that pancreatic cancer is no longer a death sentence. That is what Support Casper is fighting for.