Leighanne (Lilly) Austin

What If My Dad Were Diagnosed Today?

I started wondering recently… what would be different if my dad were diagnosed today?

Since my dad was diagnosed with and passed away from pancreatic cancer in 2016, there have been some major advancements in the care and treatment of patients diagnosed with this horrible disease.

My father was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. This meant that the cancer had already spread beyond his pancreas to distant parts of his body. In my dad’s case, this involved his stomach, liver and lungs. At the time, the focus was mainly on palliative care. My dad was given the option of chemotherapy. This was not intended to extend his life, but in hopes that it would give him a better quality of life for the little time he had left. The thinking is that if the tumour shrinks, there could be less pain, pressure and symptoms for the patient. In my dad’s case, the chemotherapy only made him feel worse so it was only tried once.

Pancreatic cancer historically has had very few treatment options. Because it is so frequently diagnosed late, the options for patients become very few and far between. Since my dad was diagnosed, there have been advances in chemotherapy. One of these is a treatment called FOLFIRINOX, which combines four different chemotherapy drugs. For some patients with pancreatic cancer who are healthy enough to tolerate it, FOLFIRINOX has been shown to help patients live longer than treatment with gemcitabine, a chemotherapy drug that was commonly used on its own. More recently, researchers have developed another four-drug chemotherapy combo called NALIRIFOX. In a large clinical trial, patients who received NALIRIFOX lived longer on average than those who received another commonly used chemotherapy combination, gemcitabine and nab-paclitaxel.

So while researchers have continued to find better ways to use chemotherapy, they have also been looking for ways to attack pancreatic cancer more directly by targeting the specific things that make cancer cells grow. One of the biggest challenges researchers have faced is a protein called RAS. RAS plays an important role in telling cells to grow and divide, and mutations in the RAS family, particularly KRAS, are found in the vast majority of pancreatic cancers. For decades, researchers have been trying to figure out how to target RAS. It was considered one of the biggest “undruggable” targets in cancer research.

And then, on August 26, 2026, just 3 days after the 10-year anniversary of my dad’s death, something happened that would have seemed almost unimaginable when my dad was diagnosed in 2016. A drug called Rasonque was approved in the United States. It is the first approved treatment that targets RAS in pancreatic cancer.

But what could this actually mean for people living with pancreatic cancer today? In the clinical trial, the median survival was 13.2 months for people taking Rasonque, compared with 6.7 months for those receiving chemotherapy. In the same trial, 11% of patients receiving chemotherapy saw their tumours shrink, compared with 30% of patients receiving Rasonque. There was also a significant drop in patients ending treatment because of side effects: 1.2% on Rasonque vs. 11.2% on chemotherapy.

It is important to note that Rasonque is currently ONLY approved for use in the United States, and it has not yet been approved for use in Canada. So while this is a huge step forward, Canadian patients do not have access to this new treatment. Hopefully, that will change as the drug continues through the Canadian approval process.

I can't help but think about how much can change in 10 years. My dad didn't have access to these new treatments, but someone diagnosed today has more options than he did, and someone diagnosed 10 years from now may have even more options.

That's why I'm walking. Pancreatic cancer research has already changed what is possible… and I want to help see what the next 10 years can bring. If you'd like to help me support that research, I would be incredibly grateful for your donation. 

Ten Years Without Him: Why I Walk for My Dad

As we reach the tenth year since dad passed away, I find myself thinking about him more than usual. It’s crazy to imagine that 10 years have passed. It feels so long ago, but also like it was just last week. Grief seems to change over time and what was once a raw, gaping wound in your chest slowly turns into more of a weight on your heart. It still makes it hard to breathe sometimes, but the weight slowly gets easier to bear. And eventually, that weight even starts to become familiar and you likely wouldn’t know who you are without it. That grief is why I decided to join the Run for Survival last year. I felt like I needed to channel my grief into something meaningful and raising money for other families felt like an incredible way to continue to heal my heart. So this year, I am excited to once again lace up for this incredible cause. Somehow it is extremely healing to be surrounded by other families who have lost a loved one to pancreatic cancer who all understand what it’s like to be left with an empty chair at the dinner table, unanswered questions and a lifetime of memories.

My dad himself was no stranger to the pain and grief that comes along with losing someone he loved to cancer. Starting when he was just 15 years old, my dad lost his sister, his mother and his brother to leukemia, all within the span of six and a half years. My dad didn’t talk about his losses often, but I could see the emotional toll they had taken on him throughout his entire life. And when he was dying himself, he devastatingly said to me “I thought I had beaten the family curse.” Hearing him say that broke my heart. He had spent his life carrying the losses of his sister, his mother and his brother and somewhere along the way, he had come to believe that perhaps he had escaped the same fate. Only to find himself, decades later, facing terminal cancer of his own.

My dad had just turned 64 when he was diagnosed with cancer. He had plans to retire from the business he and my mom had worked so hard to build, Ward Brothers Locksmith. The first thing he had planned to do when he retired was to ride his motorcycle out to visit me in Edmonton. He had done it once before and this time my mom had planned to fly out to meet him. From there, they were going to ride together through the mountains to my mom’s sister’s place in Langley, BC where he would reunite with one of his very best friends, my uncle Bill Mackenzie. He never got that chance. Within 13 weeks of his 64^th birthday, my father was gone.

Having been diagnosed at stage 4, we were told that there were no options to help my dad and that we needed to prepare to lose him, and quickly. There was so little time to process what we were hearing from the doctors. They told us that there was no hope and there were very few options for treatment beyond keeping him comfortable. I can’t describe the helplessness and shock my family felt. Suddenly we were broken and no one would ever be able to put us back together. Watching my mother and my oldest brother, Dave, deal with this was especially heartbreaking for me. While I was able to take the time to return to Ontario and spend time caring for my father, mom and Davey had to be the strong ones and continue to run the family business. Most friends, customers and the local businesses dad worked with had no idea he was sick. Because everything happened so quickly, many people did not even know my dad was sick until long after he passed away. While it was difficult for our family to relive his passing every time someone new found out, it was incredibly comforting to be reminded of how many people loved my dad and how much he meant to the community around him.

Now, 10 years later, I think about all the things my dad has missed. He’s missed seeing Davey take over the family business, Ward Brothers, and how successful he’s been at keeping Dad’s legacy alive. He’s missed watching his first five grandchildren grow up and the births of his two youngest, Jase and Tate. His oldest grandson, Zane, has gotten his driver’s license and graduated high school, and the next oldest, Luke, is about to do the same. He’s missed watching his only granddaughter, Elise, become a rodeo queen and win barrel races on the horse she has worked so hard to train. He’s missed seeing J.R. become an air cadet and fly through the sky, something Dad was always afraid to do himself. He’s missed watching William win every spelling bee he enters, successfully spelling words harder than most adults can manage. He’s missed seeing Jase become a cowboy just like his big sister, winning ribbons with his adorable pony. And he’s missed watching Tate become the sweetest little brother to everyone else.

Watching all of his grandkids grow up, I can’t help but pray that one day we will find a cure for this horrible disease so they don’t have to watch anyone else they love suffer from it. I hope the world they grow up in is filled with so much more hope for people with cancer than the world we live in today. I especially hope for earlier detection and better treatments for those diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, so that they have more time with their families, more options and longer life expectancies.

This year, as I walk in my dad’s memory, I’m asking for your help. Every dollar raised through the Run for Survival helps support research, early detection, better treatments, advocacy and support for families facing pancreatic cancer. If you’re able to donate, no matter the amount, you’ll be helping give other families something mine didn’t have: more time, more options and more hope. I know my dad’s story can’t change, but I truly hope that with the money we raise, someone else’s story can.