In 1999 I received the biggest shock of my life: I was told by my doctor that I had pancreatic cancer and I was given little hope for survival.  It began when I woke up one Monday morning with a stomach ache.  I thought it would pass, but on Tuesday it was still there, so I called my doctor.  He said to “give it another day,” and, if it was not better, to come in.  On Wednesday when my doctor saw me, he was alarmed.  He called in two nurses and ordered several tests, including a blood work-up, which he sent to the lab for processing.

On Friday, he called me and told me I had an appointment with my internist in one hour.  That doctor told me I had an appointment for a sonogram at the hospital and to come to his office as soon as that was completed.  After that, there was a CT scan, which indicated that surgery was possible.  An oncologist took over and sent me to the hospital for possible surgery.

I sat in the doctor's office, praying that he would be able to operate.  He agreed to operate and I thought I was home free.  However, when the operation was over he informed me that there was “a 90% chance” of the cancer returning.  So, I had 28 sessions of radiation therapy along with chemotherapy.  It was not easy, but I was determined to succeed—which I did.  I thought I was cancer free, but sometime later the cancer spread to the liver.  My oncologist said chemotherapy was available, but there was one chance in five of success.  However—it was successful and when I came into the office for treatment, the whole staff stood up and cheered.

I have been cancer free since then and am able to manage my house and garden, and, at age 84, I am still running my craft business for the benefit of my church.

I have been called a miracle and an inspiration to everyone because I have fought and won all the problems along the way.

I cannot stress enough that the reason for my success was early diagnosis, always following my doctor's orders and constant prayer—and never give up hope.

Along the way I realized that I had been given a wonderful life, a good family, good education and wonderful opportunities in my field of work.  I married and had three boys, and they are all doing well.  Now, I am able to use my talents to help less fortunate people.  I tell my doctor that he saved by life, but he doesn't take the credit. 

Lillian S., Cold Spring Harbor, NY 9/26/08

I love my life and the people in it.  I live life to the fullest because although it is true that we don't know what we have until it is gone--it is also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives. The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most out of everything that comes their way.

On July 9th of 2007, I was diagnosed with a rare type of pancreatic cancer, neuroendocrine carcinoma.  I was devastated, that was not even the word, there were no words that could describe how I felt!  I was a 23 year old woman getting ready to get married, just started the real estate business, sold 3 houses and now my whole world had come crashing down into little pieces.  I wasn't sure how to feel, but I felt everything.  I was sad and thought why me? I was mad at everyone in the world and mostly I was scared to DEATH!!!  There are not too many 23 year olds that can say they have had to look mortality in the face and thinks, “Wow, am I going to DIE!”. 

My mother made one thing real clear to me, no matter what the case, I WAS GOING TO FIGHT, and she was going to make sure that I did!  Although I agreed to go full throttle against the cancer--only more bad news kept coming. The cancer had spread to my liver, completely destroying it! On top of cancer, I needed a liver transplant, and fast!   So, I started out with 4 months of chemo to shrink the tumors, which was hell!  Once I had finished the chemo, I was so fortunate that the tumor had shrunk and I was able to have the surgery.  There are so many folks that do not get that opportunity.  On Dec. 10 th , 2007, I had a procedure called the Whipple Operation in which the surgeon removed the head of my pancreas to ensure the cancer was gone. 

After the operation it was time to put me on a waiting list to get a new liver. Now, I knew as well as my family that if I didn't get a liver soon, I was going to DIE. The hospital told us that I was eligible to have a living donor which meant someone who had the same blood type, body type and much more medical similarities could go under the knife and give me half of their liver!  Both livers would grow back, that is unbelievable. The Liver is the ONLY organ that can regenerate!  So, please be a donor.  My close family all wanted to be tested.  But, the first person that was tested was my cousin Miranda (27) who has always been more like a sister wanted to help me. She was a perfect match!  We asked her if she would consider being the donor for me and she said, "I never had to think twice about it, I knew if I didn't, Desiree would not be able to wait."

We flew Miranda from Florida and on March 3, 2008, we both went under the knife! Both surgeries went great and we were out of the hospital in 1 week!  Can you believe that???  I will NEVER be able to give Miranda the thanks for saving my life, but she knows she "SAVED" me that day!  After the liver transplant, Miranda was able to go back home but I wasn't out of the woods.   I had to do 4 more months of chemo, take 26 pills a day for anti-rejection so my liver wouldn't be rejected. Life was starting to look up! I am not saying that I didn't go through pure and agonizing HELL to fight this disease because I have and have been to the DARK SIDE of life thinking, “WHAT'S THE POINT???”.  I am saying... YOU CAN BEAT THIS CANCER!  I can finally say that I am CANCER FREE and a SURVIVOR!  I still take meds and go for check-ups often and will have to do both for the rest of my life but that is worth having a SECOND CHANCE at LIFE!

Thanks to my cousin Miranda for saving my life, my mother (Donna), father (Henry) and my sister (Hope) for never letting me give up, all of my close family--you know who you are, my best friend Britney for making me smile through it all, Brit's mom, dad, husband and his family for all of their support, everyone who had anything to do with remodeling my room, my fiancé's family and all who prayed for me. Last, but definitely not least--my fiancé, Danny for staying by my side NO MATTER how bad things really were in our lives. I LOVE YOU WITH EVERY BIT OF MY BEING!  If I have forgotten anyone, I am sorry, so I will end with this...to anyone who was there when I really needed you: I LOVE YOU ALL & WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO THANK YOU ENOUGH! So, to all of you who have been where I have or have known someone with cancer: just know that there is HOPE! I am PROOF!

Desiree H., Richmond, VA 9/19/08

Many of you know me, some may not. My name is Jeffrey and 5 years ago on July 1, 2003, I was diagnosed, after 12 hours of surgery with adenocarcinoma of the pancreas. I was given 6 to 9 months to live, and even the first oncologist I met with said radiation might extend my life to one year, maximum…..definitely a challenge at the very least.

My sweet and devoted wife Sally and I embarked on a journey….one that so many of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network's clients begin and unfortunately face every day. It was a search for answers, for reasons, for reality and for life.

The list of tests, physicians, treatments and day to day maintenance I could list would most likely be paled by that of others. I am truly blessed. My treatments through the years, although complex at the least, were nothing in comparison to what I am about to share.

On July 1, 2008, Sally and I threw a celebration of life for my recovery…..5 years of survival, and according to my C.T.'s, exams, and blood work, I have reached this elusive goal totally free of all cancer.

We did not take this lightly. At our party, which was a celebration of life (mine) we had over 125 of our local Laguna Beach supporters show up….and even though this wasn't a fundraiser as such, we have forwarded $1,600 to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network and more is forthcoming.

As many of you know, I have spent the past 4 years, since recovery, paying my great debt and fortune forward. I am a Survivor and Caregiver Network volunteer through the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network who can always be counted on to talk, be interviewed, be taped, and do whatever I can to those who find themselves facing the same insidious disease that I dealt with as well as those wonderful members of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. Over the years, I have lost many of my phone and email “buddies”. It breaks my heart every time I try to follow up on a member of our community and find that they have passed on. And with that in mind, not trying to be morose, I am forever grateful to my family, my friends and support group, my physicians, who to this day watch over me like Gods, and most importantly to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network.

I am forever in your debt, and will be here for whatever help and support I can provide, whether it be for a Survivor and Caregiver Network request, or to help the organization in any means possible – those who know me know you only need to ask.

At this unbelievable occasion, both Sally and I want to send you all of our love, thanks, and indebtedness….I am here for all of you, 24/7.

Thank you for more than I can ever put into words.

Jeffrey Ross, Laguna Beach, CA 9/23/08

In late August of 1993, while on a summer vacation in Maine, I suddenly was unable to keep food down. Returning to Albany (our home at the time, as I was Chancellor of the State University of New York system), I was diagnosed with a malignant tumor originating in the ampoule, where the common bile duct from the pancreas and the liver enter the duodenum, presumably reaching up into the pancreas. The technical term that I lifted from my medical records was a pancreatic adenocarcinoma, f or which in September of 1993 I had a pancreaticoduodenectomy , or pancreatic resection, more commonly called a Whipple operation . The Whipple, as most of the readers of this will know, is a very big abdominal surgery. In my case, it cut out the entire common bile duct, duodenum, and gall bladder and about one-half of the pancreas and the stomach, and then engineered new ducts from the liver and the pancreas directly into the small intestine below where the duodenum had been. I was told that complications are common, and I was some 40 days in the hospital after the surgery trying to get rid of an abscess and pancreatitis.
 
The trick was to begin digesting food again. I eventually learned to thread a 23 inch nasal-gastric tube every night through my nose and dripped over the next eight hours some 14 hundred calories of liquid nutrition into my stomach. (The pump and the liquid were in a cute little blue backpack, so I could talk, drink, sing, and even eat a little while I was “on the tube.”) The nasal gastric tube is not as tough as it sounds. (Even doctors and nurses sometimes think it is harder than it is because they had to try it only once during their education and never really learned the tricks.) I did this for about 5 months, and I slowly regained about one-half of the 70 pounds that I had lost (which, as I was a good 35 pounds overweight to begin with, left me about where I should have been). But I am getting ahead of my story.
 
At the time of the surgery there were noted some lymph node metastases , or nodes contained metastatic pancreatic cancer that caused a tumor in my neck that my doctor eventually cut out. When this was noted on the CT scan after about a couple of months, I got some very discouraging news. (I even heard a doctor say something about “three to five months.”)
 
About this time, I changed my treatment  institution location to Buffalo and had the treatments (radiation and Chemotherapy) carried out under the direction of the original institution. Buffalo is where I had lived before moving in 1988 to Albany and where my wife still spent about one-half time as vice president for planning at the treatment institution. By February, I could no longer function effectively as Chancellor of the SUNY system and wanted to give the trustees time to start a search for a successor. So I announced my intention to resign as of the first of March 2004. I returned to Buffalo, bought a house (we had lived before in the official residence of the President of Buffalo State College), and I was now near my doctors and seven days a week with my wife.
 
In Buffalo, I continued the radiation and chemotherapy. I gradually regained enough of my weight. By the fall of 2004 I began a little teaching at the State University of New York at Buffalo. By January of 2005, I was teaching a full load, and by the fall of 2005, I began accepting doctoral students. Within a few more years, I had the largest number of doctoral students in the department and the largest grant support for my research­ which was on higher education finance in both US and international perspectives. In 1999, I received a planning grant from the Ford Foundation to plan a center for the study of international comparative higher education finance and accessibility: essentially a study of the worldwide shift of higher education costs from predominate reliance on governments and taxpayers to being “shared” with parents and students -- and the policies and tools (such as grants and loans) by which access is maintained or even expanded in the face of these increasing costs. (We're pretty used to this in the US, but it has been a terrific shock – and bitterly contested – in most of Europe as well as in the former Communist world and most low and middle income countries.)
 
When I went off the payroll at the University at Buffalo in the summer of 2006 I had brought in well over $1.5 million in grants, completed 20 Ph.D. students (most of them international), and planned and hosted conferences in Dar es Salaam, Nairobi, Arusha, Prague, Moscow, and Wuhan. I have written one single-authored and co-edited another 4 books, plus 7 monographs and reports and some 40 articles and book chapters. I am still coming into work finishing the last few students and my research, and another book.

 
Best of all, my two children have married, prospered, and produced three gorgeous and extremely precocious grandchildren.
 
I have been cancer free now (as of the fall of 2008) for more than 15 years. I know that I am incredibly lucky. I had great medical care, a wonderful wife, an evidently not too aggressive cancer, and undeservedly great luck.

D. B. J., Buffalo, NY 9.10.08

It's a dreary day in Chicagoland and I stumbled upon this encouraging site reluctantly.  I had my first hospital admission in my adult life over the summer aside from childbirth admissions 4 times within the last 14 years.  I don't claim to be a "survivor" yet in the literal sense of the word but I do hope I could be another source of inspiration for young people going through this tumultuous journey. I had pancreatitis last June and had met wonderful doctors and nurses as I sat on the other side of the healthcare spectrum. I am an ICU nurse too, you see....only as far as you can ever imagine from oncology as possible. Other than what I recall from school, this aspect of medicine and nursing is foreign to me.

I had a very compassionate surgeon and an equally efficient GI doc who guided me through the maze of tests--all of us hoping not to see what is likely the probable result.

To make a long story short, I was referred to the best of pancreatic oncology surgery in the Heartland, if not the nation. I had 4 1/2 hour long pylorus-preserving Whipple (I hope I said that right!) and he and his staff were very encouraging in their dealings with me and my husband.

It was a nightmare just to hear the words 'pancreatic cancer' but to have it dissected with a mind of a paranoid nurse was even worse! 

I had said I don't claim to be a "survivor" in the least, especially literally but having 'survived' a plunging depressed emotional rollercoaster those first few weeks, having worn my slippers thin coasting the hallways of the hospital hours and days after my surgery, having that great first fart a mere couple of days later and my real meal on the third day, not to mention the most awaited 'awakening of my GI tract' as I had a BM the next day....these are my tiny miracles! The happiest recollection I had after I opened my eyes was "Look, hon!", I told my hubby,"No pain!"

I have opted, after several heated discussions and immeasurable tears shed deep into the night, to take part in a vaccine study for pancreatic cancer and I have had 2 agonizing (but hopefully, rewarding) sessions already at the Cancer Care Center. Next week would be the start of the first cycle of my Gemzar chemotherapy, followed by weeks more of 5-FU with radiation therapy. In all honesty, not a lot of my friends could believe I actually look forward to that!

I am no longer in denial! I have accepted this as my challenge at this time in my life...not a roadblock. It would take more to stop me and at 37, hey! I am not half-done with what I set out to do.

So, in retrospect, I am writing this here as a banner of inspiration both to myself (seeing this in print is like a validation of myself and what I can and will do) and to those out there sitting, wondering what tomorrow might bring. Don't wait...set out to make your own trail. It matters not how long it takes you as long as you get to where you want to be in the end. This is my story...a beginning to a second life I am still blazing trails with towards a happy ending. The best thing is, I had pushed myself to make the journey and I am happy and grateful with what I have and see along the way today. As my doctor-for-life (Dr T) said,"Hey! There is always HOPE"...that, in itself, is worth basking in the hardships of the trail and pushing on towards the summit of my goal.....to grow old & beautiful with my husband and  wear fabulous gowns at each of my 4 children's weddings. And, yes, to attend Dr T's retirement party!

Jessi P., Arlington Heights, IL 9/4/08

This summer started out with my dad being as proud as a parent could be. I graduated from Purdue in May and my sister landed a wonderful job in the same month. My dad's family was blossoming and becoming everything he had hoped for. 

While at school, my mom had called and informed me that my dad had not been feeling very well and was complaining about back pain and not having the ability to eat without his stomach hurting. Days later, he seemed to have turned a yellowish color which was caused by a blockage and the pain had become so bad that he needed to be rushed to the hospital. At first the doctors believed that he had been suffering from pancreatitis and insisted he stay and have a stint placed in his duct which would help him be able to eat and process foods and bile... When the stint didn't work, doctors performed numerous tests and kept insisting that it was a hidden gall stone. It wasn't until we traveled to the University Med. Center that we discovered he actually had a tumour at the head of his pancreas.

After many PET scans we nervously waited for the call approving him for the Whipple surgery. It was a very emotional day for us all and was the first good news we had heard in weeks! When the day for the surgery came, our family was very up-beat and ready to head down the road to recovery. Three hours into the surgery, the doctor came out and informed our family that he had bad news... The cancer had spread into the liver and one lymphnode, he was unable to complete the surgery but rerouted a few things that should be able to help him be more comfortable. 

 It has been one week since the surgery and my dad is recovering at a fast rate! He isn't able to eat much, but that is to be expected. Next week our family will be meeting with a few doctors from a Cancer Center to "game plan" his chemo and radiation.

 This time has been very emotional for our family. We really do not know what to expect but we take one day at a time. My mom has been AMAZING and strong. Her faith and hope is an example for us all to follow. My dad stays up-beat and continues to joke and be his "old-fashioned" self. He takes great joy in the smallest things in life and embraces his life and family with amazing compassion.

We are going to get through this! My dad is a fighter and he has a great team (family and friends) behind him!! Our community has been supportive and their love lifts us up.

Our "journey" begins...  "Don't stop believing."

Melissa M., Granger, Indiana 8/20/08

I was diagnosed over six years ago with inoperable adenocarcinoma of the pancreas. I was given a death sentence of three to four months to live. It has been six years and two surgeries later and I am still around.  I would like to share my story with others to offer them hope because if I can make it six years so can anyone else.

No one can understand what being told you have three to four months to live means unless it is told to you. You are left with a horrible fear…fear of the unknown, fear of what will happen to your loved ones, fear of how the bills will be paid, and a fear of how you can get the strength to face what lies ahead of you.  After my initial diagnosis, I was consumed with my death sentence.  I looked at everyone around me and I thought how lucky they were.  They could still laugh and enjoy life.  Every time I looked at my children and grandchildren I felt sorrow because I would not be there in the future to share good times and memories. Everything I heard or read about pancreatic cancer made me feel even more hopeless. I kept thinking to myself that if I could just find one person who survived even a couple of years than maybe I could also.

During my time of misery, I happened to watch a television show about a woman who had been diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer, but after receiving chemo and radiation she was able to have the surgery to remove the cancer.

That television show and the patient on there changed my life.  For the first time I felt there was hope that I might be able to survive more than a few months. I lived in Houston close to one of the best cancer hospitals in the world.  I found a wonderful oncologist who became my General leading me into battle against this horrible monster called pancreatic cancer.  After months of chemo, experimental drugs and radiation my tumor shrunk and I was able to have the Whipple surgery.  For three years the beast inside of me was quiet, however it returned in the form of three nodules in one of my lungs. 

I again went through chemo and experimental drugs for several months.  Last December, I had lung surgery to remove the nodules…two were noncancerous and one was pancreatic cancer. 

People have told me numerous times what a strong will to live that I must have.  In some of my darkest moments I wondered how it is living when your life is consumed with doctors, CAT scans, chemo, needles and blown veins?  How is it living when you are facing cisplatin, gemzar, tarveva, avastin, radiation and adenocarcinoma? NO, I did not have a strong will to live.  I survived because of the love of my family, the knowledge of my doctors and the support of my friends.  Most of all I survived because of the helping hand of my faith which led me to find HOPE through the stories of others who survived PC. These survivors and their stories gave me the courage to keep fighting.

Am I cancer free today?  No, I will NEVER BE FREE OF CANCER.  I know that at any time cancer is just a CAT scan away; that one CAT scan can bring the monster back and turn my world inside out and upside down.  In the last six years, cancer has shown me a world that I never knew existed.  It has shown me a world full of heroes; those brave strong people like you and your loved ones who fight this disease every day.  I will never be cancer free because it will always be with me; it is who I am today.

Susan S., Houston, TX 7/30/08  

This one may be hard to believe, but we have doctor's reports, lab tests and CT scans to support our claim—but since The Pancreatic Cancer Action Network is “the only national organization with a comprehensive plan to advance research, support patients and create hope in the pancreatic cancer community” I wanted to tell you about our MIRACLE.  Perhaps it will give others hope.  I know we are all praying for a cure.  My husband, Henry, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on August 1, 2007.  The doctor said it was Stage 4 since one of the tumors was wrapped around the Celiac Artery, making it inoperable.

To shorten this, he had 5 months of chemotherapy, then 5 weeks of daily radiation, then after a 3-week wait, surgery was scheduled (for April 9). We knew that when Henry went in for surgery there were at least 3 outcomes—he might not be able to make it through the surgery; the surgeon could get in and decide that he was unable to operate; or there could be a successful outcome.  (My husband had agreed to a pancreatectomy.)  Well, when the surgeon went in to remove the tumors, there was “no evidence of any tumors” – not even dead tissue!  He went ahead and did the Whipple “as a precaution.”  For those doubting Thomases (there are always those), they know for a fact that he was correctly diagnosed with pancreatic cancer because they did needle biopsies and got actual pancreatic cancer cells out for confirmation.  In addition, he had numerous CT scans and doctors watched their size and location during the entire treatment period.

We believe it was the prayers of many people that completely healed my husband.  The doctors know of no scientific reason for this—all tissues, biopsies, etc. have gone to several places for study and confirmation—now he is just recovering from the Whipple, which of course isn't any fun.

You may never want to spread this story, but we know there are so many people out there looking for a cure, looking for hope.  We think my husband's story gives others hope.  There have been two events in Henry's honor to raise funds for pancreatic cancer research (and a third one is planned), and although Henry got his miracle, we know many more are still looking for that cure.  So the funds which were received went to pancreatic cancer research.

Lou F., Grayson, GA 7/10/08

Diagnosed May 20, 1996 and now it is May 20, 2008.  Thanks for 12 years and not 3 months.  Keep hoping, keep praying, keep working.  Appreciate every day.  Thanks.

Stan H., Turner, ME 5/20/08

SUE'S STORY... (in my own words)

In 1999 I was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer which was treated with surgery (Whipple's procedure) along with radiation, followed by chemotherapy. I have always been reasonably fit and have exercised and eaten well most of my life, so after the initial trauma of the treatment, I continued to lead an active life.

8 years on...

In May of 2007 during a routine check up, I was unfortunately diagnosed with Stomach Cancer which was believed to be in the area of the previous radiation treatment I'd had back in 1999. Once again, surgery was the first option, followed by chemotherapy.

Soon after my surgery and just prior to commencing chemo, my brother and his wife visited from interstate. They had previously mentioned to my husband and I about their magical experience in Tasmania climbing Cathedral Mountain (2730 ft). They did this early one morning while on Christmas holiday and sat at the summit enjoying a coffee as they watched the sun come up.

Their experience totally resonated with me and seemed like a wonderful goal to have once I completed my chemo treatments. My brother said to me if I could climb the mountain, he would somehow get the BBQ to the summit and cook me a BBQ breakfast topped off with a glass of champagne. I guess everyone needs something out of the ordinary to help them through challenging times and this was my thing to do.

I finished the chemo treatments early in November and as we were planning the details of our Christmas gathering, this all became a real and possible goal.

After chemotherapy...

Not being in the best physical condition due to the taxing chemotherapy regimen and having lost a lot of weight and strength, I was also faced with an added dilemma of a low functioning pancreas. My pancreas was now destroyed from the previous cancer, and I had become diabetic.

Upon arriving at our holiday destination, nobody was particularly keen for me to attempt the climb, so my first challenge was to prove to them all that I was strong enough to climb the mountain.

So, the training towards my goal began with 5 km bike rides which I initially struggled with but amazingly progressed at a great rate. In fact, in no time at all, we were riding around 30 km a day over hilly terrain. We set a time frame of 2 weeks into our holiday with making it to the summit in mind. Nothing more, nothing less.

2 weeks on...

The big day finally arrived and it was a hot one so we set off at first light. There was myself and 6 other family members ready and raring to make it to the summit. With everyone's support and patience, I managed to keep up with the pace only pausing for a few jelly-bean stops along the way to keep my blood sugar at an acceptable level.

I did it, we did it!

Family and friends live through a serious illness with you, so to see the pride on their faces, the huge smiles and hugs - it is a very humbling and emotional moment.

A few weeks on... am I crazy or?

The same 6 of us were traveling to Tasmania with a more challenging mountain to conquer. Cradle Mountain (4944 ft) was a challenge of a far greater magnitude. We were faced with very cold winds and a climb that finished with a rock scramble. Everyone supported each other and worked together to make it to the peak. On a few occasions tears brought on by fatigue almost stopped us, but with the never-ending encouragement we finally conquered the climb to the top. More tears and hugs all around. I can honestly say if I had been doing this climb alone I would not have made it. The camaraderie and support was definitely what got us there as it was a difficult climb for us all.

Spirit and love...

The mind and body really are two different identities. We sometimes have a challenge in our mind but the body is definitely unable to carry it out. I felt such an overwhelming sense of pride that my body was up to the task. The aches and pains were well worth it, the bond that was formed was priceless and the views breathtaking. Then of course there was the issue of making it back down which was a 6 hour trek.

Never limit what you think you can achieve as you will be amazed at what your body and mind can accomplish.

Sue, Brisbane, Australia 5/15/08

A 5.5 cm tumor was discovered on the tail of my pancreas in November of 2006. I was 48 years old at the time. After an extensive endoscopic ultrasound at a University Hospital, it appeared surgery was possible. Surgery was attempted, but could not be done due to the location and advancement to the spleen and stomach. Using chemotherapy alone, the tumor shrank to 2 cm within 2 months, and the other areas where the cancer had spread diminished accordingly.

For 18 months I have followed a very 'whole foods' and organic diet and have had over 60 infusions, mostly Gemzar, oxaliplatin and Tarceva.

I am just as positive today as I was 18 months ago that I am going to get through this, and believe this is one of the reasons I have done well.

Susan K., Battle Ground, WA 5/14/08

In February, I had my 6th anniversary of being cancer free. I was diagnosed when I was 41 years old with pancreatic cancer. I didn't ask nor did I want to know what stage I was, I didn't feel it was relevant or important. The key was to beat it and win, which I did.

I had a Whipple procedure at a University Cancer Center with a surgeon who is the "go to" guy in these parts. I followed up with 6 months of chemotherapy with an oncologist at the same location. What a great team. I feel it's important to find the best experience to get the best results.

Let me give some straight forward advice, stay away from survival rates, they are not important or relevant to anyone's survival. They place a negative in your head that is hard to overcome. Do some homework and check with any resources available to find the best doctor, the most experienced you can get. In my opinion, go with tried and true treatments to get the best results, in other words, go with the treatments that have shown results.

A friend of mine was recently diagnosed with cancer of the bile duct. It was amazing how many doctors wanted to do the surgery, but lacked the experience. Statements like “I've done a couple” or “I believe I can do it” by surgeons may not be in your best interest.

I was discovered to have type 2 diabetes a couple of years afterward.

The hardest part is the mental game it plays on your head. You feel like you've been hit by a car and you're trying to find a way to get back on your feet. The cancer sneaks up on you and it's the last thing you suspect. Work through it the best you can and be sensitive to those around you. Everyone wants to help you and don't know how. Be as strong as you can for those around you. There's nothing wrong with an occasional pity party, but you need to not drag yourself and others down around you. It's just as hard on your loved ones as it is on you. Be as positive as possible, it will help you heal. You may want to try some positive affirmation tapes to help your body heal.

Jim S., Glendale, CA 4/1/08

STATISTICS CAN BE WRONG

Don't be unwilling to question the Doctor

On a warm April morning in 1992, my wife Carolyn and I were anxiously waiting at a hospital in Santa Rosa, California. We were waiting to see the Chief of Surgery.

The story begins in February of that year. I noticed a feeling of tenderness on the right side of my lower abdomen. There wasn't any real pain, just tenderness, and after all, I was over 61 years old. I convinced myself that I should expect some aches and pains and I let it go. But, when I went for a check-up with my primary care physician a few weeks later, I mentioned the tenderness to him. He examined me and told me that he thought that I had a hernia, and arranged an appointment for me to see one of the staff surgeons.

When I was 18 years old I was working with a bricklayer building a chimney on the roof of a house, and as kids sometimes do, I got careless and stepped off the roof. I was lucky enough to land on my feet, but I was not so lucky to have the landing result in a hernia on my left side. In any case, I was aware of what a hernia felt like and I didn't believe that I had one. But, I thought I might as well go through the process and see what would happen.

The appointment with the surgeon was the beginning of a remarkable series of events that led up to what, as Paul Harvey says on the radio, is “The Rest of the Story”.

After a short, cursory examination, the surgeon confirmed my suspicions that I indeed did not have a hernia. He made a few comments about my primary care doctor, and then told me that the symptoms I described could be connected to urological problems and suggested that I see an Urologist.

So, off I went to make the appointment with the Urologist. It was several weeks later that under the care of the Urologist, I was given all the standard urological exams and tests. Nothing came up abnormal in the tests. And after discussing the test results, the doctor said to me, “There are some things that do not show up on the tests you have had. Just to make sure I want you to have an ultrasound exam of the abdominal area.” After the ultrasound exam, when I was getting dressed, the doctor came into the room and said, “There's something there, but we can't tell what it is. We want you to have a CT Scan.”

Which brings us back to that Monday morning in April of 1992, sitting in the reception area at a hospital, in Santa Rosa, California waiting to see the Chief of Surgery to discuss the results of the CT Scan. I asked Carolyn to go with me because the Urologist told me that the scan had revealed “a mass on my pancreas”.

Carolyn and I were married on December 7, 1991. We both had been married before and had each raised three children from our first marriages. All of the children were grown adults and were not living at home when our marriages had ended in divorce. Carolyn had been divorced several years before, and I had been divorced in 1990. Carolyn and I had then, and still have, that rare bond of faith and trust in each other that sometimes develops and grows between two people who love one another and are fortunate to have met. We worked together at the same company, and we had become friends. We both fervently denied any interest in being married again, but our friendship grew into a deep respect and love for each other that neither of us had known before. I needed her with me for this interview.

After our marriage, we settled into the daily routine of work and play, and we were extremely happy with our lives. We were looking for a house to buy so we could move from our rented house and get a little closer to work. I was feeling good and didn't think that I had any health problems, until I heard the results of the CT Scan.

We were ushered into an examining room shortly after the appointed time. The Chief of Surgery came into the office shortly after we sat down. He introduced himself and put some x-ray films onto the illuminated viewer on the wall so we could see them. His manner was quite brusque as he showed us the x-rays, which showed a mass about the size of a good sized lemon on the tail of my pancreas. He explained that it was not possible to say for sure that it was malignant, but he indicated by all his comments that in all probability it was. He went on to tell us that pancreatic cancer is a particularly treacherous type of cancer. He said, “The survival rate of patients who have pancreatic cancer is about two percent. I have known a number of doctors who when diagnosed with pancreatic cancer have elected to not have surgery, but to go out and do the things they want to do and enjoy what time they had left.” What he meant, of course, was that with the small chance of survival, it would be better to not go through the trauma of surgery and treatments, but to go and enjoy the time left in my life. He left little doubt in our minds about how he felt. I looked at Carolyn and she was in shock at the statements the doctor had made. I guess I was not as surprised, because I had heard a number of times about people who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and didn't live long after they found out about the disease. I will always regret that I had not told Carolyn about my doubts before meeting with the doctor. I think if I had, she would not have had to endure the shock of his saying what he did. But, when he made that statement, I looked across the desk at him, and I said, “That's not my choice”.

The surgeon looked back at me, sat back in his chair, and said, “Okay. If that is what you want, I will do what I can to move you ahead in the surgery schedule, and I'll start to make the arrangements today. I want you to know what we're facing. This will be an extensive abdominal surgery. I will have to go in and look at everything and if I have to I'll take out your spleen, I'll take one of your kidneys, you only need one, I may take part of your stomach, and part or all of your pancreas. But, if I get in there and find out your liver is involved, I'll sew you right up and do no more. I want you to go and see if you can give some blood to be used in surgery. See you next week.”

As it turned out, I was too anemic to give my own blood, and after several weeks of trying to build up my own blood we gave up and agreed to have donor blood. True to his word the surgeon did move me up on the surgery schedule, and he was ready to take me into the operating room on June first.

During this time, Carolyn and I had been looking at houses in and around Santa Rosa. Looking at houses helped to keep our minds off all the other things going on with arrangements and tests leading up to the coming surgery. As luck would have it, we found a house we really liked and it was close to work and met the other criteria for a house we wanted. So, we bought it. Now the job was to go through escrow and have the paperwork closed in time to get everything done before I would have to go in the hospital. We did it, just. The weekend before June first we moved into the new-to-us house. We were lucky to have friends and family help with the move and we had about 15 or 20 people moving things into the house and arranging furniture, putting up pictures and trying very hard to do everything for us. Carolyn and I had prepared for a cook-out for the whole group and on Sunday afternoon we barbecued sausages and burgers and served salads and other good things for everybody. After we said goodnight to our last guests about 8 o'clock Sunday night, we sat and relaxed for a few minutes. Strangely we didn't talk much about the next day. We talked about our friends and family, their kindness in helping with our move, and some of the things that occurred during the day that put smiles to our faces. We knew that all of our friends and family had us in their thoughts and prayers that night. After a while, we decided to get some rest for the next day.

The next day, Monday morning at 6 o'clock, we presented ourselves to the admissions desk at my hospital in Santa Rosa. After the paperwork and hospital prep work, they rolled me into the operating room about 8 o'clock the morning of June first. The operation lasted over three hours. Carolyn, with her children and one of our very good friends, had an arduous wait in the waiting room, but she told me, “It would have been tougher if the surgeon had come out in a short time, because that would have been a sure signal that there was too much involved, and he had ‘sewed you right up'.” After the surgery, I had the easy part. I was kept pretty well out of it for two and a half days in intensive care. I remember watching a digital gauge of my blood pressure and thinking, “Boy, that's as low as I ever saw it”. And once when there were a lot of people milling around my bed, one of the nurses tripped over the mass of tubes that were stuck in me at various places. When things were stabilized they moved me to my room and even though I was still hooked up to many tubes, I was able to get up and walk around the halls pushing my tree of IV bottles. Every day, for the next few days, the surgeon would come into my room and ask me, “How are you, have you had any gas yet?” At that point it was really good to have a joke to laugh about so the whole family took advantage of it, and everybody would ask me the same question.

Thanks to a surgeon, wise enough to determine that a diagnosis of a hernia was wrong, and who cared enough about a patient that he suggested I should see a urologist for the symptoms I described; to a urologist who was steadfast in his efforts to diagnose my illness; to an incredibly skillful surgeon who had a lousy bedside manner but great hands and great knowledge, who took out the mass and a third of my pancreas, explored all the other organs and found no evidence of their involvement, and then “sewed me up”; and to the awesome support of my wife, Carolyn, and family and friends, I came out of the operating room with a new chance on life.

The mass was malignant. The hospital did all the lab tests and presented the tests and surgical report to the cancer board, a group of doctors who examine unusual cancer cases. All this was happening during the ten days I was in the hospital and several weeks I was recovering at home. The board was not able to come to an agreement on what type of cancer I had. So, the hospital decided that I should have my case reviewed by a University hospital. The local hospital made the appointment for us to see a panel of two doctors at the University the next week. Carolyn and I loaded up the files and headed to the University. The doctors there gave me a brief exam, and we talked with them for several hours. They took the files and told us to come back in a few hours. We had leisurely lunch out in the avenues near Golden Gate Park, and found ourselves back in the waiting room at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Meeting with the doctors, in a conference room there, they confirmed that the type of cancer I had was pancreatic cancer. They told us there were three possible treatment recommendations they would make:

1. Do nothing and assume that the surgery cured the cancer.

2. Have radiation treatments only.

3. Have chemotherapy and radiation.

My hospital told me that the choice was mine. So, I told them that my choice was to do everything available to make sure that the cancer was gone and would stay gone.

At the end of July we were ready the start treatment. Five days a week for twelve weeks I had radiation treatments, along with chemotherapy twice a week that was designed to enhance the radiation. During that time my oncologist ran every test he had available to him. Included were two bone scans, CT Scans and a blood test every few weeks along with constant encouragement for the treatments. Completing the treatments in October, I went on to see my oncologist for the next three years, until we moved out of the state. At our new home I was fortunate to have equally good follow-up examinations from our new HMO and after 13 years I no longer see an oncologist, but my primary care doctor follows up with a blood test every year.

Today, I have no recurrence of cancer and I am a happy, healthy 76 year old man. Carolyn and I have the pleasure of enjoying our children, grandchildren and great grandson. How lucky can one man get?

I believe, for the most part, you make your own luck. But with the love and devotion of my wife Carolyn, the good thoughts and prayers of our family and many good friends, the skill and concern of the medical staff at my hospital, and luck by any description, my story has a happy ending!

I know that many people have not been as fortunate as I have been, but maybe someone reading my story will question the suggestion that an illness is not curable. Maybe they will believe it is worthwhile to pursue every course of action available to them to capture the opportunity to be cured. And that good medical care, a loving family and friends, and your own kind of luck can save your life.

I hope so!

Glen G. 3/20/08

I'm writing this to celebrate my mother's Two-Year Anniversary of her diagnosis; this is for you mom:

It was exactly two years ago today that we received the news that my mother's pancreatitis was actually pancreatic cancer. She'd been in and out of the hospital from January 31, 2006 - March 7, 2006 with what we thought was pancreatitis or gall stones, but when the phone call came with the diagnosis it devastated our entire family. At only 55 years old we all thought mom was too young for this, but we now know that pancreatic cancer can strike anyone.

In an effort to help my mom who was too tired, sick and weak to determine her own course of action, I developed a strategy plan and quickly became President of Team Operation Kick Cancer's A**. We learned that mom's tumor was still small enough to potentially make her a candidate for the Whipple and we got on a plane to travel to see if a cancer center would operate on her. On March 23, 2006 my mother underwent the Whipple procedure and our family held vigil for 12 hours in the waiting room, constantly calling home with updates for the hundreds (literally) of people who were scattered in churches, schools and at home praying. At 8:30pm that evening we got the news we yearned to hear: clean margins, tumor gone, mom did well.

Two months later, and cancer-free, mom started a regimen of 5-FU and Gemzar, 6 weeks of daily radiation, and a follow-up of 5-FU and Gemzar. For 11 months the cancer was in check but in January 2007 her CA 19-9 had risen quickly and we all knew what was coming next. The cancer had returned to her liver and surrounding lymph nodes. Team Operation Kick Cancer's A** was started again. Back to the cancer center we went, but when we learned that surgery wasn't an option this time, mom decided to become part of a clinical trial at our local hospital and receives chemo in bi-weekly doses which she wears for 48 hours.

It was 12 months and 3 weeks ago that the treatment was started. My mother feels well, looks good and maintains an ACTIVE (sometimes too active we think) lifestyle. She is a survivor in every essence of the word.

Yesterday she had another CT scan and we got some more encouraging news - the largest tumor in her liver appears to have potentially shrunk and the center appears dead. The cancer is still there, but she can, does and will continue to live with it until it goes away - we all believe this and pray daily.

I wanted to share my mom's story with all of you because she is the definition of hope, faith and courage and we do believe in miracles and think we've had a few cross our path already. She is a testament to those that believe you cannot live with this disease - you can, you will.

I'm not the one living with cancer, but I live it every day with my mother and I can tell you that it's her attitude, her faith and her determination that keeps her fighting this battle with vitality and strength. Even when the cancer returned, which we all know is common with pancreatic cancer, mom has not given up - she's my hero and she makes me want to be a better person.

I'm getting married this summer and asked my mom over Christmas if she would like to walk me down the aisle with my father. To my surprise, she said no (she and dad are happily married too). Then she told me that she wants to celebrate seeing me walk down that aisle and she's waited her entire life for that moment. And Mom, when you read this, I want you to know that when Dad and I walk down that aisle one of the greatest joys of my wedding day will be seeing you there at the end, watching the daughter you've raised, taught, loved and inspired take her husband and start our life together. There will be tears, but they will be of sweet joy and celebration.

Mom, Happy Anniversary. Keep fighting, keep believing and keep your faith. We are right there with you every step of the way and I love you very, very much. Cheers to you today and to MANY more anniversaries!

Kellie S., Pittsburgh, PA 3/7/08

Hi. I was diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer which spread to the liver in January ‘06. I had never smoked, don't drink, did exercise and was in good health up to this time (although there is a history of cancer on both sides of my family). Since then I went on Gemzar and Tarceva for about 15 months. My scans had been showing no detectable cancer for the last 12 months. I had a biopsy on my liver which turned out negative and tried going off chemo for about 6 weeks. Unfortunately, the cancer returned and I went back on the same chemo regimen. It didn't work as well the second time and in October ‘07 I switched to Gemzar and oxaliplatin. That seemed to work as my last scans from January ‘08 are clear again.

I write this to offer hope to everyone who has to go through this. I have relied on my faith, family and friends to get through this and learned that these are the most important lasting things in my life. I don't know for sure what my future holds but I am sure that cancer and death will not be the end for me since my faith promises me a perfect cancer free life after this one. I have found a good cancer support group at a church and talking to the many survivors there has been a huge benefit. I also have been fortunate to have kept working most of the past 2 years and I try to eat healthy and do some exercise, mostly walking and light weightlifting, to keep my strength up. I pray my story will offer some encouragement to you.

Mark P., Bartlett, IL 2/22/08

I have been looking for a site like this since being released from the hospital in April 2006. No one else can really relate to my experience, and here I was able to read about other survivors. And, if you look at the web sites and the stats, you would think that there are none! Reading these inspiring stories has given me such a lift.

I was told that I had a "mass" on the tail of my pancreas in Dec 2005, with the only chance of survival being surgery! Honestly, after going home and reading related web sites, I thought I was going to die of fear before I would even have the surgery. I went into denial for 6 weeks. Then I thought, I'll just juice-fast that 2.5 cm tumor away. I fasted for 21 days on the master cleaner-lemonade diet. I felt great after and lost some needed weight, but the repeat CT scan showed that it was still very much there. So I surrendered and consented and had a distal pancreatectomy and splenectomy. I now have 50% of my pancreas. One of the issues following surgery was menopause; hot flashes started about the day I got home from the hospital, and I think I've aged a lot. Oh well. Panic attacks, which are so not me, are an issue right now. I was, in my youth, a rollercoaster junkie; now I drive slowly in the slow lane. Depression set in because my job of 22 years refused to take me back when they found out what kind of surgery I had. Don't worry, I am pursuing that issue. And, you know what can follow job loss, (I am a sub-prime mortgage poster child), STRESS as never before, bankruptcy just to save the house, snowball, crash, burn. So, this all has affected my healing process. But, I am keeping my head up.

A CT scan last April showed all is well and I will expect the same when I go for another this April. Although, I need to believe that I am healed and stop tripping every time I feel any kind of pain. Once the stress level of being broke subsides, I know will feel more confident. Because you know how you feel when you're broke, pretty darn lousy, right? I will use this site now for continued support.

I am so very grateful for my life now. I will admit that I used to be a little over confident, a little arrogant, but this experience has forever humbled me. I am a soon to be a 51 year old African American woman who intends to live life beating the odds and those stats that I've decided don't apply to me. By the way, I don't eat junk anymore. I'm loving that tonic called Noni, I am eating those digestive enzymes, the omega 3, flax oil, multi-vitamin with iron, guzzling carrot juice, and trying to do something about this ugly belly fat. I am using the very dated Jane Fonda work out tapes. Blessings to all who read this and much success in staying positive and healthy!! BE WELL, LIVE LONG!!

Sheila D., Berkeley, CA 2/10/08

In January 2007, I began experiencing symptoms of jaundice with dark urine, light stool, and terrible itching over my entire body. A few months earlier I had joined Weight Watchers because I had been battling obesity for years and was finally fed up with being so uncomfortable. I had been diagnosed with diabetes in 1999 and the weight did not allow me to manage the disease very well. After I had lost about 30 pounds, I noticed that my blood glucose levels were going up instead of down; in fact, they were hovering in the high 400s to 500s. Realizing something wasn't right, I went to my primary physician for a comprehensive blood test.

A few days later, I received a phone call from the doctor. He said my liver enzymes were off the chart and he wanted me to have an abdominal ultrasound and make an appointment with a liver specialist to see what might be going on. Obviously this news was disturbing and I asked if this could be life-threatening. He responded that it was probably a treatable condition and that it was not life-threatening. Was he ever wrong!

A week and a half later I went to the liver specialist and after listening to my description of the symptoms and reviewing my blood test results, he said he wanted me to have an MRI immediately, that day if possible, but no later than the next morning. I went in the next day and was told it would be a few days before the results would be available, but I got a call that afternoon from my doctor. He had gone to the hospital shortly after the test was completed and asked the radiologist to read the scan as soon as possible. The news was disturbing, but the reality of the situation had not registered with me yet. Even though I was told there appeared to be a mass in the pancreas and that I should be "very" concerned, I had no knowledge of pancreatic disease, so I just trusted that everything would be alright. In the same conversation, this doctor told me that he had already made an appointment for me at a major hospital in Chicago to have a test called an ERCP. He saw the urgency in the situation and acted accordingly. To this day I believe I owe this man my life.

The results of the test revealed a 2 centimeter mass on the pancreas that appeared to be contained. The next appointment was with the chief of surgery who told me that surgery was the logical next step and that he would perform a Whipple procedure. At no time did he mention cancer, and I was confident that there was none present.

I was in surgery for about eleven hours, but from the onset, I was blessed with one miracle after another. After being told I would likely spend up to three days in the ICU and ten to fourteen days in the hospital, I spent less than twelve hours in the ICU and was home in just under seven days. It wasn't until I went back to have the staples removed that I was given the news that the diagnosis was cancer. Even at this point, however, the doctor was confident that he had caught it in time and that I would be fine. I knew only time would tell, but I am grateful to this man for his expertise as well as his positive attitude and perpetual encouragement.

The recovery from the surgery, which took place in mid-March, was long and somewhat tedious due to a few infections of the wound, but I am doing well now.

The message I want to send to everyone who is diagnosed with this terrible disease is that it is treatable and extended high-quality life is not only possible, but likely with the right attitude and faith.

Paul B., Wheaton, IL 2/7/08

It all started in 1998 when I was told I had large tumor on my left kidney. I had the tumor and adrenal gland removed that year. Then in May 2002, I was told I had pancreatic cancer and an option of two more months to live or to go through a very complicated and "dicey" operation with a maximum 50/50 chance to survive. The surgeon found out during the procedure that my whole pancreas was filled with a tumor. He removed my spleen, ENTIRE pancreas, gall bladder and bile duct. They basically "lost" me on the operating table due to heavy bleeding, but were able to bring me back.

It was tough recovering. I had to go through chemo treatment for 6 months. I changed careers, moved from overseas to the US and got on with life thanks to family, friends and employer support.

In 2005, it was that time again. Some pancreatic tumor cells had obviously been left behind. I had a large tumor on my stomach that had fused with my colon. I proceeded with 4 months of chemo and radiation, which was extremely tough. Due to the chemotherapy, I lost all the skin on my feet and hands. I then had half of my stomach and part of my colon removed. After this, I went through chemo treatment again. In 2007, cancer stuck its ugly head up again showing enlarged and growing lymph nodes in my abdomen. We are treating it and that seems to be working with minimal side effects.

Soon it will be 6 years without a pancreas! The last 5 years I have been working full time, traveling the world for my company. I am getting tired, but it is worth every extra day to be able to enjoy friends, and family. There is hope for everyone in the darkest of hours. The medical profession has not seen it all just yet!

Dennie N., Cary, NC 1/23/08

I am 51 years old. On August 16, 2007, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer after having symptoms of painless jaundice and itching. I was very lucky that, due to the size and location of the tumor, I qualified for the Whipple surgery. I was sent to a surgeon at a cancer center in St. Louis, MO. The surgeon and his wonderful staff performed my Whipple surgery on September, 11 2007. I was up walking the next day and released from the hospital on September 17, 2007. My recovery was amazing according to my doctors. I only had pain from the incision, and that subsided after the first week. I was taking walks and playing with my granddaughters the next week. On October 24, I started a 28 day treatment session of radiation with 6 days of chemotherapy with the drug 5-FU. I had no side effects. I was then given a month off and then resumed my second round of treatment starting January 3, 2008. This round I am receiving straight chemotherapy with a pill twice a day for two weeks of Xeloda and a chemo drip once a week of Gemzar. Again, I have had no side effects.

I will fight this battle with every ounce of fight I have in me. I know that without the love and support of my loving husband, my courageous daughter and her husband, my brave son, my three beautiful granddaughters, my father, my stepmother, my sister and brothers, brother-in-laws, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews and a great group of friends, my outlook may not have been so bright. However, I feel better now than I have in years. I am hoping after this round of treatment, I will be finished and will just continue to get regular checkups and cat scans showing no signs of the cancer. Though this is not a journey most people would want to take, it has changed my life. I am thankful everyday that I awake for having another day with my family and friends and I am thankful again at night for the wonderful day I have had. For to me, everyday is a gift. Make the most of them.

Colleen N., Bloomington, IL 1/10/08

At age 49 I got the news that brought me to my knees. I had stage IV pancreatic cancer and I had three months to live, four months if I took the chemo treatments, but my quality of life would be very poor due to the harshness of the treatments. Naturally, I got mad as heck, why me? I don't drink, smoke or even use caffeine. I had never been sick other than the flu and I was in great shape physically. This can't be happening!

For those of you that got this same message, I assume that you had the same reaction: fear, disbelief, why me and ANGER. I think it is normal to feel that way.

I went home to die feeling very sorry for myself. After a couple of days I began to think straight again and it came to me. I never quit anything in my life, I am stubborn to a fault and I owe it to my wife and two little boys to fight this thing that I have. I will not go without a fight if only to show my kids that you can't give up when the going gets tough.

I started a chemo routine. Every other week on Thursday I had Gemzar and Fridays I had oxaliplatin. I felt terrible for a couple of days but I was back at work on Mondays and did not miss a day other than my chemo days.

To make a long story short, I had great results from the treatment. After 48 rounds my tumor had been reduced from 12cm to 2cm, and has been stable for 10 months.

I have a message that I want to deliver to those of you getting ready to start treatment.

1. It takes a lot of energy to be mad, being mad that you have cancer is like being mad at the weather, it does you no good. Take the energy that you waste being mad and put it towards beating the enemy (cancer). You will need every ounce of energy you have, don't waste it.

2. Remember how lucky you really are. If it was one of my children or my wife that was stricken with cancer, I would be on my hands and knees begging to please let it be me, not them. Well, it is me, so my prayers have already been answered.

3. Don't give up...

Blair J., Matthews, NC 12/17/07

My husband, Ralph, after many tests which indicated no sign of cancer of the pancreas, was finally diagnosed in October of 2006. He was given 6-9 months to live if the cancerous tumor could not be shrunk. And we were given little encouragement. However, after almost 6 weeks of chemotherapy and radiation at a cancer center in our hometown of Shreveport, the tumor was shrunk by about 70%. He was then a good candidate for the Whipple. On February 5 of 2007, he underwent an 8 hour surgery by a brilliant and highly dedicated pancreatic and liver transplant surgeon. Ralph's recovery was difficult but he fared better than most, especially considering his then age of 67. I am happy to report that he is in great shape. He lost a lot of weight but is now a trim 157 pounds and has been getting on our roof these past few months to clean out the gutters. His quality of life is better than it was a year ago. He does not digest fats...they go right through him. But, he has no pain and we think this is a miracle.

Charlene B., Shreveport, LA 12/1/07

In March of 2002, having been widowed only a year before, after caring for my very ill husband for seven years, I began feeling very ill. My first symptom was extreme itching on my torso. I was sure that after seven years of caring for Pete, my house was probably not as clean as it should be; therefore, I imagined that there might be fleas in the house from my tiny Pomeranian. Well, I got some powerful flea bombs and let them do their work in the house while both the dog and I spent the night in a motel. We came home hoping to have a restful night....not so. I itched even more. Then, I decided that there must be dust mites in my home. I hadn't had the carpets and upholstery cleaned in a few years since I was so overwhelmed with other matters. I ordered some very expensive dust mite cures online, proceeded to apply them, spent another night in a motel, and came home to the very same problem.

At this time I was teaching part-time in the International American Language Center in our local university. I began desperately spraying my stomach area with cortisone spray....I couldn't make it through an entire class without some relief, so I would dash across the hall to the bathroom to spray about every fifteen minutes. My students, I am sure, thought I was absolutely crazy!!

Then, about two months later, I had black urine and a white stool, a symptom of jaundice. My physician, a dear friend who had cared for Pete lovingly during his last years, said I was jaundiced and that we would test until we found out why. I was one of the lucky ones whose tumor blocked a bile duct; otherwise, pancreatic cancer is usually a silent killer. Within forty-eight hours after having a stent implanted in my gall bladder, my liver enzymes had improved greatly. My physician made arrangements to go to an institution where two physicians were conducting a study of pancreatic cancer and trying very hard to improve the possibility of life after the Whipple. In my estimation, these two doctors are as close to God as a human being can get. They are dedicated, very much involved, and highly skilled. I know that I would not be alive today were it not for their efforts. They and their staff members were available any time 24-7 after I returned to my son's home in Seattle. At the slightest notion of a problem, I was placed back in the hospital under their care imm