Nina's Darius World

I'd just finished a music tour and I was looking forward to spending time with my mum and dad. I walked into the kitchen of their house in Glasgow. They were there, deep in conversation.

Immediately I could tell something was wrong.

'Darius' Dad said, 'I've got cancer. It's very advanced, about the worst it can possibly be.'

I was so shocked I lost my breath. To me and my brothers, Aria , 20, and Cyrus, 10, Dad was indestructible. Our nickname for him was the Terminator. He was a doctor and he saved people's lives. He couldn't be dying.

Dad explained. 'I've got non-Hodgkin's lymphoma,' he said. 'I have a tumour the size of a large orange in my pelvis and it's spread to my spine and bone marrow. It's grade four cancer. The doctors have given me three months to live.'

My mind went into overdrive. Dad had been under the weather for some time. He worked long hours at the hospital and we just thought it was stress.

Dad understood just how bad it was but he was determined to stay positive.

'I'd rather die fighting,' he said.

'I'll be with you every step of the way, Dad,' I said.

Suddenly nothing mattered apart from helping him. I was due to record an album but I pulled out.

Dad was admitted to the Royal Marsden Hospital in London. One of the oncologists there had been his student 15 years ago. It was a good omen. But the doctors were blunt. 'We are going to do our best for you, Dr Danesh,' the professor said. 'but it doesn't look good.'

The cancer was too advanced to operate so Dad was immediately started on a powerful course of chemotherapy. Doctors hoped it might buy him a few extra months.

The weight dropped off Dad. I watched as his 15 stone frame shrank to barely 11 stone. He was too weak to leave his bed. 'Can we sleep in Dad's room ?' I asked a nurse. 'Yes,' she said.

Mum, Aria and I took it in turns to spend the night with him. Cyrus visited at weekends and kept our spirits up. He brought Dad an Ali G video for him to watch. Then he smeared Mum's make-up all over his face, put on a bright yellow jacket and swaggered into Dad's room.

'My name is Cyrus G.' he said, just like Ali G. 'You is well good at kicking cancer. Ay ?'

Tears of laughter rolled down Dad's cheeks.

Time passed. Soon Dad was so weak I had to carry him to the bathroom. The chemotherapy attacked every cell in his body, inside and out. It affected everything from eating to going to the toilet. He lost all his hair and his skin was paper-thin. Sometimes I had to turn my head so he wouldn't see me cry.

Doctor's didn't dare hope the chemo would destroy the cancer and neither did we. But in May he passed the milestone - it had been longer than the three months the doctors had originally given him.

'The doctors said the tumour is now the size of a walnut,' Dad said. 'It's wonderful news.' I wanted to dance around the room. But the battle was not over yet. Huge doses of chemo were still being pumped into his body. He also had courses of radiotherapy.

Another two months passed. One day I was holding Dad's hand. He was breathing gently. I though he was asleep. Then the breaths stopped.

'Dad come back !' I cried.

I couldn't bear to lose him, not after he had fought so hard. Seconds passed like years. Then there was the faintest sound.

Dad was breathing again. He was back.

A month later it was my 24th birthday. I hadn't dared hope that Dad would be there. Mum, Aria, Cyrus and I gathered around Dad's bed with a little cake. I took out my guitar and played Happy Birthday. Dad's eyes lit up. He looked so proud. I played Dad a new song I had written. It was called Live Twice and it was inspired by him.

'Darius, this song needs to be heard,' Dad said. 'Don't put your life on hold for me. Keep going forward. I fight to see you on Top of the Pops and hear you on the radio.'

When Dad couldn't sleep, we talked about his life and his childhood. We spent hours on the internet and reading books to learn everything we could about cancer. 'I'm too weak to do it myself,' Dad said. 'But I'm convinced that the more I know about cancer and it's treatment the better chance I have of beating it.'

Six months went by.

Dad decided to try some alternative therapy. no one had expected him to come this far and he had nothing to lose. 'Drugs have helped me win the first round of the battle,' Dad said. 'these may help me win the war.'

He had regular sessions of reiki, the hands-on Japanese healing technique, as well as acupuncture, aromatherapy, meditation and positive thinking.

We made him laugh and kept his spirits up. I ran round the grounds of the hospital with him in his wheelchair, doing wheelies with him while he laughed his head off.

Two months elapsed. Soon Dad had been in hospital nine months. But now something amazing had happened. He was well enough to leave.

That same month I released my new album. Live Twice was the title track. Dad was so pleased.

At Christmas Dad called me. 'Darius,' he said. 'Yes Dad,' I said.

'The doctors say they can't find any trace of cancer,' he said. 'I'm in remission.'

It's been 18 months now since Dad was diagnosed. He was given just three months to live but now he's getting stronger every day. He's even got the strength to go swimming again.

No one quite understands it. All we can put it down to is a combination of conventional and complementary medicines.

Dad's cancer has changed my life forever. I'm involved with the Lymphoma Association. I want to raise awareness not just of the cancer but also of the help available such as buddy schemes to help fellow sufferers.

I look after myself now. I take power naps, meditate and eat seven portions of fruit and vegetables a day.

Dad's still here and I count myself very lucky.