When people hear the words "pancreatic cancer," the first thing that comes to mind is usually a number, those statistics about five-year survival rates. But beyond those statistics, there are people who hold on and keep living for more than a decade. My family is one of them. It has already been well over ten years since my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had major surgery, and she is still living her own days, one at a time.
Of course, it has not all been smooth. There were several episodes of bleeding in her gastrointestinal tract. One time her condition was so bad that she was slipping in and out of consciousness, and we rushed her to the emergency room. Even after a CT scan, they never found where the bleeding was coming from. Thankfully it settled down on its own, and once she had a transfusion and her blood pressure stabilized, we were able to bring her back home. The doctor could only guess that it might have come from somewhere along the old surgical scar, and said no one can know when it might happen again. That was frightening to hear, but it has been quiet ever since.
These days, her life is actually filled with things other than pancreatic cancer. She finished cataract surgery on one eye and will soon go in for the other. Her blood sugar is managed with a continuous glucose monitor and insulin. For people who have had pancreatic surgery, diabetes is almost like a companion that comes along with it, so she has gotten used to it by now. With every meal she takes a digestive enzyme, and after eating she takes a probiotic. These tiny, broken-down habits add up and carry the day along.
Before going to bed she takes something to help her sleep, and because her memory is not what it used to be, she was also prescribed a medication that helps with cognitive function. Strangely enough, she says her head has felt clearer since she started taking it. For me, watching from her side, that one sentence is more welcome than any test result.
There is a saying that no one stays a devoted child through a long illness, but when you are actually there at someone's side, it is not such a grand thing. It is just the repetition of getting the medication ready, going to the hospital together, and asking how she is feeling today. That repetition piled up into more than a decade. To others walking a similar path, and to their caregivers, I really wanted to say this: the statistics are not your destiny.
What I have written here is only one family's experience. Medications and treatments differ from person to person, so please be sure to decide together with your own doctor.