The day my life changed completely started out like any other and included a happy trip to the annual preview Holiday party at Phipps Conservatory. I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy it because food had become a problem, but I was going to give it my best shot since it was always so much fun.
My qualms centered around the fact that for the past two months I had been dealing with abdominal pain that was pretty bad every time I ate. Food had taken on a negative value, even chocolate! My doctor and I had been trying all of the standard stuff to treat it without much success. Pretty excruciating back pain when I laid flat now was added to the mix. That was particularly annoying because it marked the end of massages and facials!
My PCP agreed to send me to a gastroenterologist (GI) for further investigation. His first available appointment was several months off, but fortunately Judy, a very close friend who works in healthcare, was able to call in the first of many favors and get me seen within the next few days. Is that fair? No, it isn’t. That’s just one of the many problems plaguing American healthcare, but I wasn’t arguing. When the pain is bad enough you sometimes overcome moral objections. This doc ordered a number of blood tests and we were waiting on the results which Judy received while we partied at Phipps.
Pulling into Wilpen’s driveway, I noticed Judy’s car surprisingly there. Shortly thereafter Leslie’s car arrived, odd since I had just bid her goodnight. I didn’t know what was happening but figured it wasn’t good. In the kitchen, Judy told us both to sit down and then said, “Your blood tests are positive for pancreatic cancer.”
So much for the afterglow of the first Christmas soiree. I felt as if I had been hit in the face by a three-day old cold, dead fish. “This is a death sentence” I said and burst into tears. Judy attempted to convince me that pancreatic cancer is thought to be a death sentence to those in my generation, but that it was no longer the case. There were many treatment options to be explored.
I don’t think I heard much of what she said and remember very little. There were tears and hugs and more talk, but mostly there was just empty space. I remember asking “what happens next?” but not really hearing the answer. Judy stayed that night and has remained ever since, spelled by other very close and kind friends, two of whom are cancer survivors.
How would you feel if you thought you were pretty healthy and were given a diagnosis like this? Rage? Terrified? Confused?
I have to preface the rest of the story with the fact that I was what Judy refers to as “medically naïve” even though my professional background was in public health and medicine. I had never been hospitalized, sedated, or even had a colonoscopy. An IV was completely foreign to me
The next step was meeting with the GI doc who had ordered the original blood tests. Since this doctor spends a great deal of time suggesting that his patients get their affairs in order, I thought he’d enjoy this joke that I used when teaching internal medicine residents.
An oncologist is meeting with a cancer patient. The patient listens to the dire news and asks “So how much time have I got left doc?” The doctor looks at him and says “5”. The confused patient looks at him and says questioningly “5? Five what? Five hours? Five days? Five weeks? Five months?” The oncologist looks at his watch and then says “4”. The oncologist looked at me, trying not to laugh and wondering, just what the hell kind of patient he’s got on his hands.
The first month following my diagnosis remains to this day a fog. Leslie, my closest friend, would come over each and every day to make sure I was still alive and some days we would just pretend everything was fine, others we would talk about what was to come next, and other times we would just cry.
Judy embarked on a search for the best pancreatic cancer specialist. A well-respected oncologist who specializes in pancreatic cancer was located at Allegheny Health Network’s Cancer Institute. We were able to get in to see her within just a few days. Interestingly, the very building in which I was about to embark on the fight of my life is named after my late husband! That has had its advantages and its disadvantages. Some find it intriguing while others find it terrifying as they don’t want to be the one to kill the woman whose husband’s name is on the building!
I don’t remember much from our first oncology visit, but I know it didn’t go well! One of the good (and sometimes bad) results of the electronic age is that you have access to read what the doctors write about you. That day was not a good one. I was not feeling well, having terrible stomach pain, I was scared to death having no idea what to expect. The doctor was pleasant and caring, but I wanted nothing to do with her. Evidently, when she asked me questions my only response was pointing at Judy and saying, “I don’t know, ask her.” I told her that I didn’t want to know the details, she should deal with Judy. I just wanted to run out of the room. Couldn’t we do this via zoom? I didn’t want to hear her talking about this horrid disease that I was sure could not possibly involve me. I just wanted to go home and curl up in my bed and hide!
Not surprisingly, the physician’s progress notes did not reflect a very good portrait of me as a patient. She expressed concern that I was unable to engage in my care. I did not seem interested in participating and she was not sure that I could be compliant with treatment. Well, that was a wake-up-call!. No one was going to say those things about ME! Reading that note really got a rise out of me! In retrospect, it was a good thing because it rallied me to prove her wrong, and boy did I. (She now refers to me as a good patient! We share travel stories and she and her staff marvel at how well I am tolerating treatment! As of September 2026, I have had 154 medical encounters (doctor visits, chemo infusions, blood transfusions, weekly blood draws, a hospitalization) and have not missed or even rescheduled a single one! So take that “I’m concerned that she will not participate in her care!”)
I could not have made it this far, certainly not this well, without the help and support of my dear friends and acquaintances, some of whom are hardly known to me. So many people have come forward with cards, well wishes, food, and support. Leslie, Judy and MC have been my daily rocks, holding me up, and even carrying me (figuratively speaking – I’m now pretty skinny but still…) when necessary. I’ve cried with them, I’ve laughed with them, and even occasionally vomited on them You don’t realize how much you need a village until you do.
Stay tuned for more adventures of “ I’m In It to Win It” featuring me and one annoying pancreatic tumor.
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