Pancreatic Cancer Tried to Crash My Three Daughters’ Weddings

William Ramshaw resides in the expansive Pacific Northwest. He is a six-year survivor of pancreatic cancer. Catch up on William’s blogs here!

Raised with two brothers, I had little idea what to make of my three daughters. Dump trucks and dirt became pigtails and bows. An innocent glance of displeasure would send them running to their mom, sobbing.

Thus, twelve years ago, when I got the unwelcomed news that I had pancreatic cancer, I figured I would not be there for any of their big days. Having helped them take their first steps as they clutched my finger before plopping down on their diapered bottoms, the whole idea of me not being there to walk them down the aisle devastated me.

With only a few of us who get this awful news seeing two years and almost no one seeing five, to still be here a dozen years later is an unexplainable miracle. I mention this not to crow about it but to say no matter how dire your situation may seem, there is always hope, no matter how faint. With new treatments appearing each month, what may have been a long shot yesterday is now within reach. So, as much as it sounds like one of those mindless cancer slogans, “Don’t give up hope”, I mean it. Stay positive. Put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. It’s not over until it’s over.

No matter how dire your situation may seem, there is always hope, no matter how faint.

Looking back on the gruesome surgery to remove my pancreatic tumor followed by months of radiation and chemo, I think the one thing that helped me the most was maintaining close relationships with my doctors and their cadre of nurse practitioners, physician assistants, and nurses. I found if I stayed engaged, they stayed engaged. Part of our DNA is to help others. But few want to help someone who has given up hope. Early in my treatments, a kind nurse named Mike told me, “Find someone to be your advocate.” I did. In the heat of my treatments, a physician assistant named Christina came alongside me to make sure I received above-and-beyond care.

Not to state the obvious, do what your doctors tell you to do. Period. If you don’t understand what they are asking or why they asked it, machine-gun them with questions. If they seem unwilling or unable to answer your questions, find another doctor. While I’ve found most doctors are marvelous, sorry to say, it’s your life and not theirs. Find a doctor who respects and listens to you. One who you can collaborate with. Trust me, it will make all the difference.

Speaking of doctors, experience matters a lot. While I was too sick to even consider traveling to one of the noted cancer centers, I was paired with a local surgeon who, unbeknownst to me, had performed more than 600 “Whipple Procedures”. These are complex procedures used to remove pancreatic tumors. Only the most experienced surgeons dare attempt them. With our pancreas buried deep within us, getting to the pancreas is much like gutting a fish. A several-hour surgery, my surgeon compared it to open-heart surgery. Minutes before I was wheeled into the operating room, my surgeon quipped, “When you wake up, you’ll feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.” He wasn’t kidding. It was more like a truck driven by a crazed maniac who backed up and ran me over again for sport. I credit him with my survival. He was so good that I later discovered people traveled from states away to see him.

Dealing with the end of life is hard. It’s overwhelming. There is so much left to do and not enough time to do any of it. As tough as it is to feel like your life will end all too soon, don’t take it out on your caregivers. Remember, your cancer is not their fault. They already have a thankless job. Don’t make it tougher for them. They are your lifeline. Don’t sever it in anger. People are forgiving, but if we push them too far, they may walk away.

I’m not sure why I’ve survived thus far. Perhaps I have something big left to do. Or it could be simple dumb luck. Remember, we all have an end. For those of us who are facing or have faced cancer, at least we have a heads up and can prepare for our end the best we can. As for me, I have chosen to cherish each day I’ve been given.

Back to my three daughters. Two of them are now married. I remain hopeful I will be there for my baby daughter’s big day. But as Meatloaf once sang, “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

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