Let us pray for an end to the terrible curse of cancer

Reports this week that a pioneering new cancer drug is on the horizon will bring hope to many. For others, any breakthrough, however revolutionary, has tragically come too late.

Over recent months, weeks, days and hours, I have watched a dear friend courageously battle against this most cruel of diseases. Cheryl was a mother-of-two in her early 40s and so petite, blonde and beautiful I used to tease her mercilessly for it.

When she was diagnosed more than 18 months ago with pancreatic cancer, we were left reeling in shock. Despite aggressive treatment, its spread could not be halted, yet throughout the chemotherapy, the funeral plans and the long goodbyes, Cheryl remained serene, gracious and grateful for every day, every visit, every moment with her devoted husband and children.

It was harrowing and humbling to witness, and yet throughout it ran a thread of disbelief. It wasn’t her time; she was too young. Something was bound to happen; a miracle cure must surely be in the offing?

Except no miracle came. The new therapy that triggers the death of cancer cells has been hugely successful in the lab, but has not yet been tested in patients.

Cheryl spent her last days in a hospice, half of the room given over to a wonderwall of cards and ribbons, on her bed a brightly coloured quilt hand-sewn by her mother and her daughter together. Time seemed to stand still in that room, even as her disease ran its devastating course.

Early this week, Cheryl quietly passed away. It was the best of deaths in the worst of circumstances, and my sadness at her loss is mingled with relief at her release from pain.

I pray that new treatments will spell the end of such early deaths. My friend’s legacy remains in the happiest of memories and in the shape of her utterly charming children whom she prepared for life without her. But it’s no exaggeration to say that the world has forever lost a little of its radiance. That is the terrible curse of cancer.