This was the second specialist to tell me I was fine. “It’s just irritable bowel syndrome,” he said. I wanted to believe him, but with the constant stomach aches and the weight I was losing, I didn’t feel fine.
I’ve lived most of my life with cancer in the back of my mind. Two of my aunts died of breast cancer in their early forties. When my sister found a lump at 37, her family doctor told her she was too young for a mammogram. With the urging of family, she sought a second opinion. This assessment revealed she had stage four breast cancer. After a heroic battle, she passed away in 2003, leaving her three children without their mother.
In 2004, my brother began losing weight and having stomach problems. A specialist found polyps during a colonoscopy but believed they were benign, so no further testing was done. A year later, my brother relocated to Australia for work, but his symptoms continued. Further tests showed spots on his liver, which were initially thought to be cysts. During the procedure to remove them, the surgeons realized it was actually pancreatic cancer that had spread to his spleen and liver. His courageous fight came to an end in 2005.
Losing them both made me push for genetic testing. When I learned I carried the BRCA2 mutation, I feared what might come next.
So in 2008, when I felt a lump in my breast, I didn’t wait. I went to see my family doctor. She couldn’t detect it during the exam and suggested waiting for my scheduled high-risk screening. Three months later, the mammogram showed nothing, but the MRI did. An ultrasound was ordered, which also didn’t detect the lump, but the doctor trusted my report, marked the area I indicated and performed a biopsy. It confirmed cancer.
I was referred to Dr. Leslie Scott at London Health Sciences Centre (LHSC), who came prepared with an aggressive plan based on my family history and made me feel safe during a frightening time. With the care of Dr. Scott and Dr. Chris Scilly, I underwent breast cancer surgery and reconstruction. It was a difficult journey, but I got through it. For many years, everything seemed good.
Then the stomach pain began.
With my family history, I couldn’t ignore it. The gastroenterologist I was referred to told me it was nothing. I requested a second opinion in Toronto, but my concerns were again dismissed. I kept losing weight. I was getting sicker. I insisted something had been missed. Finally, a third opinion led to a CT scan.
That was how I learned I had pancreatic cancer.
Everything shifted when I arrived at the Baker Centre for Pancreatic Cancer (Baker Centre) at LHSC. From the moment I met Dr. Stephen Welch, I felt heard. I told him I only wanted to talk about treatment, not timelines. He respected my wishes completely.
Dr. Welch developed a plan and I began Folfirinox chemotherapy in October 2021. It shrank the tumour but the side effects were difficult to manage. In March 2022, we shifted to a targeted therapy, Lynparza (Olaparib). Then, in November 2023, I received stereotatic radiation to my liver, which was successful, with follow-up scans showing only scar tissue and no cancerous lesions.
Dr. Welch and the team at the Baker Centre have been wonderful. They connected me with nutrition guidance from James Mulligan, emotional wellness support from the nursing staff and resources that I didn’t even know existed. And Nancy Gregg, the Patient Health Facilitator, has been my guiding angel. She helps ensure I am scheduled for all scans Dr. Welch requests, navigates insurance issues and coordinates appointments. Her care has been invaluable. Knowing her role exists because of donor generosity makes me deeply grateful.
I’m also very appreciative of the support of my daughters, who have been instrumental in my journey. From day one, they set up my medication schedule and learned everything they could about pancreatic cancer and available resources. They both carry the BRCA2 mutation, which drives me to continue advocating for awareness and research. I want to be the last one in my family to go through this. And with my first grandchild on the way, I’m determined to be here for them.
Competitive athletes are taught to push away negative thoughts and visualize success. That is how I’m approaching my condition. My goal is to survive, so I place my focus there. I am choosing hope. And with my family and the entire Baker Centre team beside me, I truly believe I have every reason to stay on the positive side of the statistics.