Rose M.

Pancreatic Cancer, 6-year survivor

“This has been a journey, a real journey, a very interesting, sometimes frightful, journey. So far, it’s been extremely successful, for which I’m so grateful — although there have been times when I didn’t know what the outcome would be.

I actually just had my last CT scan at the Cancer Center, the 12th CT scan in six years. The report from my doctor, Dr. Carlos Fernandez, was fabulous. He told me that, once again, everything was pristine. He said it was very clean.

Then he actually discharged me. He told me that he didn’t think it was necessary for me to come back anymore, something that he had never hinted at before. That was really unexpected, and I was completely taken aback. I was jubilant, of course, but also a little nervous to hear my doctor tell me that he thought I was healthy enough not to have to see him anymore.

Over the years that I was going to the Cancer Center, I made a connection with all the people there — not just with my doctor, but with his staff, too. That was very meaningful to me. Every time I had an appointment, I was anxious because I never knew what the outcome would be.

Each time I went, everyone was so supportive and optimistic. That was always helpful and reassuring. At each development, the message from the staff at the Cancer Center was always, ‘OK, let’s just go to the next step.’

There has always been hope, but not false hope. That’s difficult to provide to people in my condition. Only about four percent of people with pancreatic cancer, like me, make it past two years. The stats were stacked against me.

In my mind, I was constantly fighting the numbers. My cancer had infiltrated into the duodenum. As a nurse, I knew what that meant. I was very fortunate to have negative nodes, and margins, and that was a hopeful sign.
 
Dr. Fernandez always had an answer for me. ’Listen,’ he told me, ‘the fact that it metastasized into the duodenum is not that bad. We got it all out.’

That calmed me. I always had very pointed questions and wanted to know the real answers. My attitude was, ‘Be honest with me. I can deal with it. Don’t try to fool me.’

He never did, not for one minute. Dr. Fernandez always came back at me with an honest but optimistic response. The remarkable thing is that he did this over and over again.

I remember when my tumor markers were quite high, one year after my surgery. We were in Florida at the time. My oncologist in Albany called me and told me to get back to Albany.

It was right before the holidays and I wanted to be in Florida. I was desperate to be there, to get into the sun and be somewhere warm. I had heard that it was reported in some of the medical literature that the sun has healing power. I knew that I needed to be someplace warm.

So I called Dr. Fernandez, and he answered my call at 10 that night. He said, ‘You remember that I told you that sometimes the markers can go high? That doesn’t mean a thing. Go ahead and enjoy the holiday with your family. I’ll see you when you get back in a few weeks, and we’ll see how you’re doing then.’ That was so helpful. He was always the voice of reason.

Dr. Fernandez convinced me to travel south as I had planned. I didn’t have enough energy to get from one gate to another at the airport, but going down there was the best thing I ever did.

He’s a wonderful doctor. He helped me overcome my cancer through surgery. He also explained to me right from the beginning that there is such a thing as ‘micro-burst,’ meaning the cancer can appear to be gone, but that it may be still there in microscopic form. I knew that. I also knew that I could fight, with a positive attitude, diet, and exercise. Dr. Fernandez helped me do that; he encouraged me, always telling me, ‘Yes, you can. You can do it.’ That helped enormously.

That was so unlike the messages I was getting from my doctors in Albany. I remember the first oncologist I saw told me I had a year and a half to live. That was his prognosis.

That was unacceptable. Dr. Fernandez never did that. He never said, ‘You may only have a year and a half.’ Never. And here I am. Six years later.

Basically, I’ve lived my life on a six month by six month basis, going from CT scan to CT scan. In the beginning, I thought that’s all I had — six months. After each CT scan, I’d breathe a sigh of relief, and say to myself, ‘OK, now I’m going to plan my life for the next six months.’

I’m also lucky in that I have an unbelievably marvelous family. My husband and my two sons have completely supported me through all of this. My mother, my sisters, and my friends have all been unbelievable. You don’t understand the value of support until you need it.

I basically had to learn a whole new way of being, because I’m very much a Type A kind of person. I was a nurse, and always needed to be in control. I even pursued a successful career with high-pressured consulting firms.
 
When I was diagnosed, I had to totally change. I had to realize I was not in control anymore. As a result, I’ve learned how to be relaxed and patient. When you’re a cancer patient, that’s what you do — you wait. You wait to see the doctors. You wait to get your lab reports back. You’re always waiting for something.

I’ve also prayed a lot. Another thing that helped was that I read Peggy Huddleston’s book, Prepare for Surgery: Heal Faster, which is really about how to prepare for any traumatic event. I learned how to relax. I learned how to always have a good book with me all the time, wherever I am.

As a health care consultant focusing on operational improvement, strategic planning, and business plan development, I’ve been in many hospitals across the country. That means I can understand firsthand when I see a good one. I was definitely seeing a real ‘good one’ when I came to the Cancer Center.

Everything there is so efficient, so competent and friendly. Every single person I met there cared about me — from the lab technician to the nurse and the doctor. There wasn’t one person who didn’t treat me with dignity. That’s been very important.”