Dear friends,

As many of you know, December of this year will mark the tenth anniversary of Jane’s death. This August will mark the tenth anniversary of her NET cancer diagnosis. This winter marks ten years since we were both filled with worries about her rapidly declining health.

But this year also marks 40 years since her first symptoms appeared—and 35 years since I first encountered the edges of those symptoms and the effects on her life. Those effects almost immediately began to affect my own life.

Since Jane’s diagnosis, NET cancer has become my constant companion. Since her death, I have devoted seemingly every waking minute to trying to broaden awareness of the disease and to create funding for research to bring about its demise. I don’t want anyone to go through the 30 years that Jane did between her first symptoms and her death. I don’t want any spouse to encounter the things I did because of her illness—and because of her death. 

In real terms, that meant drafting my first pamphlet on the plane to Seattle less than a week after we buried Jane, working on that while I was there, and drafting my first five-year plan for what became Walking with Jane on the flight home. Since then, I’ve written hundreds of letters and articles and proposals, given speeches, organized events and teams, walked and cycled hundreds of miles, inspired a few hundred people, and raised a small pile of seed money others have invested in research I hope will lead, eventually, to a cure.

Despite all of that, I’m frustrated—and still, it seems, deeply in mourning. 

And I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted. 

I took the last month off. I tried not to think about NET cancer, tried not to think about the patients we’ve lost in the last 10 years, tried not to think about the patients still dealing with the disease, tried not to think about research or funding or awareness. 

It helped. 

But it also underlined how badly I damaged I am and how much I need a much longer time away where I can focus on healing the injuries in my soul I’ve avoided dealing with since Jane’s death. I’ve never fully come to terms with that loss—and I need to.

That said, I’ve decided to declare 2021 a sabbatical year for me. I won’t abandon NET cancer—but for that year, I’ll place it firmly on a back burner. I’ll still do the Marathon Walk, still do the PMC, still engage in fundraising for those things—but NET cancer will cease to be an 8-12-hour day, six to seven day a week commitment for that year. I want to spend a year as a team member, not as a captain—or in any other substantial leadership role. 

My plan is to return to everything fully in 2022, barring my death or incapacitation.

Some will suggest I should not put this off for a year—that I should take this year. I thought about that—and the idea is supremely tempting. But I’ve made some promises that need keeping—and I need to recruit some people to fill in for me to keep the #cureNETcancernow group and the webpage and a couple other things going in my absence. Momentum matters—and I don’t want to risk even a small disturbance after a decade of all of us working very hard to really get things rolling on NET cancer.

Others may argue I should just keep plowing forward. Part of me agrees with that sentiment. I want NET cancer dead in the worst way imaginable. But the research I’ve seen over the last ten years convinces me we face a much longer fight than I imagined at the start—than I suspect many of us imagined at the start. My thinking is that I will be much more effective if I take the break my body and soul call for in 2021—both now and in the future. It will create a sense of urgency that will carry me through the coming year—and a renewed strength for the years thereafter.

Let me repeat: I have no intention of walking away from this fight permanently. I simply need to sit down for a bit before I fall down. 

What I will need is for people to take on some of the tasks I’ve taken on for a short time so I can come back to the fight refreshed.

I hope all of you had wonderful holidays. I look forward to seeing all of you in the year ahead.

Pax et lux,

Harry Proudfoot

Chairman, Walking with Jane