That happened to my husband two years ago. He was a doctor and when we were told that he had pancreatic cancer stage four, he looked at me and said,” Let’s go home.” So we did. We didn’t cry, but we did know what that diagnosis meant. We called our adult children and told them. We live in Northern California, and they were nine hours from us. But by the next morning, all three and their families were here. Of course there were tears that night, but we told them what he wanted to do. He wanted a big card game and root beer floats. On Mon. my son in laws took the kids back home for school. My son and daughters stayed. We took care of him for two weeks and two days when he died in his sleep. I only survived this, because I knew his suffering was over.