Pancreatic cancer is difficult to treat, as well as to diagnose. It is the fourth leading cause of cancer deaths in the United States, with approximately 32,000 deaths each year. The standard chemotherapy treatment is Gemcitabine (Gemzar), however, there has been some better successes with chemotherapy combinations like GTX.
In the beginning, when my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, we had hope. There was hope for a Whipple procedure, the surgery that is the only real chance for a pancreatic cancer patient. Only 10 - 15% of patients are eligible for surgery. The five year survival rate for those who have surgery is 25% at Johns Hopkins, one of the leading pancreatic cancer hospitals in the country. Overall, the one year mortality rate is estimated at between 95% and 99%.
We ignored those statistics. We didn't ask how much time my dad had. Instead, we took one day at a time (yes, that really is good advice) and made each day as special as we could for him. We created memories, not knowing how much time we would have. We took pictures, we made videos, we went to the beach and the park, and turned our visits to New York City for treatment into adventures.
Everyone should ignore the statistics. The statistics are grim, but, after all, the statistics are only the statistics. Someone has to be in that small percentage that beats the odds. And some are. Dr. Jerome Groopman, in his book The Anatomy of Hope, explains why, "Each disease is uncertain in its outcome, and within that uncertainty we find real hope, because a tumor has not always read the textbook, and a treatment can have an unexpectedly dramatic impact."
Chemotherapy and Other Options
My dad wasn't eligible for surgery, so, we moved on to our next hope. That hope is that chemotherapy and sometimes radiation will provide time and quality of life. In some cases, they have provided a significant amount of time - years. That's long time in the world of pancreatic cancer. Carol, for example, has supplemented her doctor's regimen with yoga and exercise, plus some meditation and visualization. She says that "I think staying active has been a real key to the success I have had. Besides the yoga, I go on 10-30 mile bike rides several times a week."
Our War Lost
Hope comes in many forms. When you give up hoping for a cure, you hope for quality of life. You hope for time. When those hopes fade, you hope for a peaceful, pain free passing. Hope, as I said, comes in many forms. Most importantly, as some wise person said to me in the midst of this journey, without hope, we have nothing. Who would have thought, six months ago, that I would be hoping that my dad would be gone, quickly? Not me, certainly.
Without Hope, We Have Nothing
My dad said, as he was dying, the cancer won. This time it did, but, again, without hope there is nothing. And there is hope that in the future, with better funding, more research, earlier diagnosis and more treatment options, a hope that more pancreatic patients will win.
He also said, wise man that he is (I can't yet write was...) that he could have dropped dead of a heart attack and this time we had, as a family, was a gift. It was a gift of time - time we spent together saying everything that needed to be said. Time we spent forging even stronger bonds as a family than we had before. In our grief, all the petty differences were set aside, and the only thing that mattered was helping my dad, and my mother.
At the end, thanks to hospice, my father, a man of great faith, went gently into that good night, peacefully and painlessly, in the early morning hours of July 14. He waited for my mom to come downstairs then left us.
