William Ramshaw resides in the expansive Pacific Northwest. He is a six-year survivor of pancreatic cancer and has written a memoir Gut Punched! Facing Pancreatic Cancer.

William Ramshaw

Years ago, I remember gutting out eight weeks of Navy bootcamp. Being the summer, most days in San Diego were in the nineties or higher. Those weeks seemed like years. The days crawled by. Minutes seemed like hours. Each day, up before dawn we cleaned our barracks from the overhead to the deck, stem to stern, scrubbing out hidden crevices with a toothbrush, making our racks the 

, only to flunk our barracks inspection once again. Beyond the demeaning slurs and getting shoved into the lockers, depending on how the inspectors felt that morning, the consequences ranged from push-up and sit-ups to far worse. Soon, we became dull to being screamed at with expletives non-stop. I think you get the idea.

So, I suppose gutting out cancer treatments is much like pushing through that time at bootcamp. It feels like our treatments will never stop. Our days are stacked with appointments, first with our oncologist and then with some specialist to deal with and yet another complication from our treatments. In between, we are on the phone to schedule or reschedule our appointments for next week with seemly daily trips to our pharmacy to pick up meds with names we cannot pronounce.

Too awake to sleep, we spend hours watching beyond asinine reality TV shows. Anything to keep our minds off all that is being done to us. Instead of lying in bed waiting for our pain meds to kick-in, we hope for a day when sleep will come as easily as it once did. Well-meaning friends and family wear worry on their faces too afraid to think about the obvious question of whether we will make it. Not only does this overwhelm us, but it overwhelms our caregivers who are putting everything they have and more into keeping us alive. It’s craziness.

When facing cancer, it is all too easy to let everything, none of which we can control one bit, overwhelm us. Today’s problems are enough for today. Spending endless time worrying about tomorrow’s problems does us no good. We have no control whatsoever over what tomorrow brings. It only leads to despair and worse depression. Live today to its fullest, forget about tomorrow.

For me, it has been those who have gone through cancer who were the biggest help to me. Our friends and family try to help us, but not having been put through the cancer mill themselves, they often struggle to understand what’s happening to us.

How sunny days can be blue. Why we don’t feel like eating our once favorite foods, like pizza or ice cream. Why we don’t feel like talking about anything. Thus, it is often someone who has been through what we’re going through who can guide us. This is but one reason why I decided to go public about my own experiences with facing pancreatic cancer.

Be honest with your friends and family, and most importantly, with your doctors too. No one can help us if we are not truthful about how we’re feeling both physically and mentally. Thanks to endless self-help books, many of us have a bent to stay positive even when things are worse than awful. Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with positivity if it’s real.

Faking it though doesn’t help. Thus, if you’re feeling bad say so. If someone is getting on your nerves say so. But beyond saying so, say why. This has been hard for me and continues to be hard even today. It’s one thing to be honest but if we don’t explain why to those who are trying to help us, they can walk away feeling hurt. And worse become unwilling to lend a hand.

Our doctors mean well but when working 70 or 80 hours per week there is a limit to what they can do. Some cancers respond well to treatment while others don’t. It can be frustrating to be in treatment and have it go sideways. It can be more than frustrating not to know why a particular treatment has been prescribed over another.

Being a life-or-death situation, rather than nod our heads up and down when our doctor says something we don’t understand, we need to learn to not be afraid to ask questions. If necessary, we may need to challenge their non-answers or maybe seek a second opinion. It’s our lives, not our theirs. How can we participate in our treatments if we don’t understand them? Push the bounds.

Gutting out cancer treatments are harder than hard, uphill all the way. But like much of life it’s doable if we’ll take it a day at a time, look for allies, push the bounds, and seek out help if we need to. These are just a few of the things I’ve learned after being put through the pancreatic cancer gauntlet.

Articles

Sometimes the only way to get over something is through, and cancer is no different. A survivor gives his perspective on gutting out treatment for cancer.

Gutting Out Treatments For Cancer

I’m a classic male. I wear Costco jeans and thick flannel shirts along with size 13 boots. I even have a red Chevy 4x4 parked in the drive. Thus, when I got hit with pancreatic cancer, I found my male fantasyland torn to shreds.

Like so many of us guys, I hid in my man cave rarely coming out except for the big game or, of course, for a backyard BBQ. With it caving in, I had little choice but to come out and face my cancer head-on. It’s been rough but I’ve learned a lot about who I am, which is helping me become the man I want to be.

Here are five things I’ve learned in my now seven-year journey facing cancer.

I’m the typical “men don’t cry” sort of guy. Many of us are. Back when we were learning to crawl and banged our head into the coffee table, biting our lip and beginning to whimper, we were scolded, “Boys Don’t Cry!” But now realizing our end may be sooner than we want to tell ourselves, we find ourselves wet-eyed thinking about a tomorrow that may not exist. We say I have so much more living left to do but our cancer says otherwise.

For many of us, this sense of loss is more than we can take. It breaks us. Every time I thought of one of my three daughters walking down the aisle alone, I cried. Thankfully I’ve been there for two of their big days. I hope to make it to the third. It’s OK to cry, or even sob, about it.

Like many guys, control is something I have always found solace in. I’m the Captain of my ship, or at least I told myself that till cancer took that away too. First, a six-hour surgery to excise my pancreatic tumor followed by months of radiation and chemo, then what seemed endless follow-up appointments dominated my life for close to a year.

I was forced to stop working for a time and now oncology appointments every six months remind me I am not in control of what happens next. It’s OK to give up control.

When my daughters were toddlers, they often told me, “I do it myself!” One daughter insisted on holding her own hand in the parking lot. I wonder where she learned this from? Well, pre-cancer I seldom asked for help. I considered it a sign of weakness.

Now I have no choice but to ask. Even now there are so many things I cannot do. With three compressed vertebrae courtesy of my abdominal radiation, I avoid lifting anything much heavier than a sack of dog food. Anything more I have to ask for help since getting another compression fracture just isn’t worth it. If needed, a good neighbor has been kind enough to come over and lend me a hand. It’s OK to ask for help.

Like a lot of guys, I have always kept to myself. For the most part, I have tried to mind my own business and let other people have their space. Not that I shut them out but I had little need to involve them in my daily dramas of treatments that didn’t go well or annoying doctors who spoke over my head in jargon I had to look up. While still not a social butterfly, I’ve learned to let other people in, especially a couple of great friends. This has strengthened these years-long friendships. It’s OK to let people in.

Most of us guys can be scared stiff but try not show a hint of fear. Zilch. Cool. Calm. Collected. It’s a guy thing, I think. We are raised to look for monsters under the bed or those scary ones hiding in the closet. So, we never admit when we are petrified. It’s just not what we do.

Now on more than one occasion, I’ve been forced to come clean and admit I am terrified. Rather than letting it be a sign of weakness, confessing my fear has been a sign of strength. It’s OK to be scared stiff.

These are just five things I’ve learned about being male and facing cancer. For those guys whose worlds are coming apart due to cancer, as well as their tireless caregivers who stay with them treatment after treatment, it’s OK to cry about it, let go of control, ask for help, let people in and most of all, to be scared stiff.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to

When confronting cancer many men also have to confront their preconceived notions of being a "man". Here are 5 lessons one male pancreatic cancer survivor learned from his journey.

Five Things About Being Male and Facing Cancer

I hope for a future where pancreatic cancer will be found and treated early. One where the survival rate will be better than a meager five percent. We are not there yet. We can do better.

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

 from pancreatic cancer sickened me. Only seven years since my pancreatic cancer news, I am reminded of how lucky I am to still be around, to be there for two of my three daughters’ big days. It also reminds me I am only one oncology visit away from finding out my cancer is back. Justice Ginsburg made it 11 years, while Trebek didn’t make it two.

Cancer, any cancer, makes people ponder their future. Pancreatic cancer makes someone wonder if they have one. Almost always found too late to effectively treat it, leaving the survival rate pitiful. Its first symptoms are often back or belly pain, or worse, turning yellow in my case. My doctor later told me had my tumor not blocked my bile duct driving me to the ER there was little chance I would have made it.

Each time I read of another person lost to this silent killer I wonder when will more research dollars be made available so we can put an end to this? Much like all medical puzzles this too is solvable. But it will take more funding to get the top medical minds working on it. Sadly, it feels like year over year little progress has been made. Its grim survival stats remain well let's say grim.

estimates over 57,000 people will get told they have pancreatic cancer. Knowing how few of them will make it should jolt all of us awake. Even better, it should spur those who allocate research dollars to dig a little deeper and make more money available to develop diagnostic tools to find it earlier along with better treatments.

The current course of treatment for pancreatic cancer involves a 

, a barbaric technique developed in 1935 by Allen Whipple which involves removing the top third of the pancreas and, depending on the spread of the cancer perhaps more. With our pancreases buried deep within us, my surgeon compared it to open-heart surgery, and he wasn’t far off. Worse, only one in five people can have a 

. Without one, death is certain. Even with one, the numbers are bleak. Few see two years, and most don’t see five. Many have little if no time to say much more than goodbye to their families.

I hope for a future where pancreatic cancer is found early enough to treat before it metastasizes into a certain death sentence. One of the reasons Justice Ginsburg survived for 11 years is her pancreatic tumor was found earlier than most. Whereas, Trebek’s was found far too late.

I hope for a future where pancreatic cancer’s name alone no longer strikes panic. Few want to hear the C-word. No one wants to hear the word pancreatic before the C-word.

One of the reasons I decided to go public about my private terror has been to increase awareness about how lethal pancreatic cancer is and make a plea for more funding to beat it.

Four months before his death, on March 13, 2008, Randy Pausch of 

 fame just out of the hospital testified in front of Congress pleading for more funding to fight pancreatic cancer. I hope to follow his example by also acting as a loud voice for more funding.

With the high profile deaths of Alex Trebek and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg from pancreatic cancer, a survivor ponders, and hopes for, a better future for the state of pancreatic cancer research.

Hoping For a Better Funded Future of Pancreatic Cancer Research

I don’t think anyone who has faced cancer of any sort ever stops wondering, what’s next? We hope it’s in our rearview mirror but dread it’s not. Not wanting to be labeled a “worrier”, we don’t tell a soul about our “private” terror our cancer will yet knock us in the dirt both figuratively and literally. Being a six almost seven-year pancreatic cancer survivor, when most don’t see two, I know.

Back then we had been living our lives going to work and trying to make it to our kid’s deals and then 

. A call from our doctor about something “unusual” on our scan knocks us out of the air like a bird gliding through the air flies into a large plate glass window it didn’t see coming. Surgery, chemo, radiation and treatment follow in quick succession.

But how do we handle this nagging question of what’s next?

When I’ve asked my oncologist what’s next, like a skilled politician, she hedged her words with, “nobody knows.” When you’re trying to plan what life you have left this is not helpful, but I suppose I can’t blame her. After all, who wants to tell someone a snowball in Death Valley in mid-July has a better chance than you. Yet another doctor I see, who specializes in the pancreas, told me at six years I have less than a five percent chance of seeing my cancer come back. Once I got my primary care doctor, who has seen me for a couple of decades, to admit, “If you’ve done your bucket list, do it over” I found his words oddly comforting.

Cancer science evolves non-stop. New protocols and treatments are being developed and approved for use all the time. Whether we are starting our cancer journey, or in post-treatment, cancer science is not an exclusive members-only oncologist’s club. Even if it can be hard to understand the medical journal mumble jumble, our oncologist can help explain it to us. However we get there, we all need to know the cancer science.

Good or bad there are a lot of as they coin themselves “holistic approaches” to treating cancer which offer pills and potions said to be a miraculous cure. Of course, all these approaches will point to random results but often these lack documented cause and effect proof. It’s not so much these approaches are unproven but with some aggressive cancers, they may waste valuable treatment time which can become a life or death matter. Runaway from junk cancer science.

Every cancer has one or more organizations that focus on each type of cancer. For pancreatic cancer one of the main ones is the 

Pancreatic Cancer Action Network (PANCAN)

On these organization’s websites, there is easy to understand information about the cancer they target and its various treatments. Some even provide patients with tailored advice based on their individual medical profiles. Go find the one(s) who focus on your type of cancer. I’ve used them and found them to be quite helpful. You should too. Know your cancer.

Don’t Let Your Emotions Get the Better of You

Everyone has emotions. A person who is in the midst of treatment (as well as their caregivers) emotions often gush out. The endless treatments wear us out. We think, “Will this ever end?” or worse, “Will I make it?”

Questions like “What’s next?” lead nowhere. Thus, if you find yourself worrying non-stop seek help. Many clinics have counselors available who are trained in dealing with those of us and our caregivers who find ourselves losing it so to speak. A person cannot participate in their care or help us if they are a worry wreck.

Our friends who are not facing cancer all have their own proverbial bus too. We on the other hand can describe our bus in detail. I think mine has splashes of red paint. I can hear the gravel snaping beneath its weight as it creeps towards me. As Jim Morrison, of 

, is rumored once to have said, “No one gets out of here alive.” 

Cancer can be a blessing, offering the opportunity to tie up life’s loose ends, or it can be a curse knowing things are coming undone faster than we can tie them together. Despite talk otherwise, we choose how we respond to our cancer.

Even though I wonder what’s next, I’ve come to realize the answer to this most basic question is unknowable. I’ve come to understand I need to live each day as though it is a gift—because it truly is.

Patients with cancer are all too familiar with the question, what's next? One cancer survivor discusses how to navigate those answers.

William Ramshaw | Contributors

Gutting Out Treatments For Cancer

Five Things About Being Male and Facing Cancer

Hoping For a Better Funded Future of Pancreatic Cancer Research

A Pancreatic Cancer Survivor Wonders What’s Next?

Latest News