In April 2015, as a mother to a 13-month-old little girl, I was diagnosed with a Pancreatic Neuroendocrine Tumor, often referred to as a PNET.
Imagine driving down a Florida highway in the middle lane with your daughter in the car seat in back and, out of nowhere, with no warning, feeling or sensation, you start throwing up. I grabbed my daughter's diaper bag from the front seat and used that as a receptacle. This was the third time in about two weeks that, out of the blue, I began throwing up. I knew something was wrong. I could not attribute it to something I ate or a bug going around when the incidents were that far apart. I listened to my body and took myself to the ER after arranging care for my daughter.
Multiple tests later, a small mass was identified on my pancreas. To this day, the doctors who treated me could not confirm that my throwing-up episodes were tied to the pancreatic mass, but because of those episodes, and my demanding that more tests be run to try to find a cause, a CT scan picked up the tumor.
The diagnosis
Shortly after Easter 2015, I underwent an endoscopy so the doctors could take a closer look at the tumor. To this day, I still remember the feeling in my gut when I came out of anesthesia to find the Chief of Oncology at my bedside, presenting me with his business card and asking if my parents were here with me. No disrespect, I am sure he is a wonderful man, but waking up to find the Chief of Oncology by my bed is a moment I cannot forget, and it was a little shocking.
But that moment, while shocking, also made me realize how much everything was about to change. I listened to his diagnosis of a PNET and the expected treatment, a Whipple surgery, and my knee-jerk reaction was: OK, well, let's schedule the surgery and take it out. What are we waiting for? I have a 13-month-old daughter. I need to get back to taking care of her.
Memorial Sloan Kettering
That march led me to one of the best facilities in the country for treatment. Again, no disrespect to the medical team who diagnosed me and initially counseled me in Florida, but when your mother calls you shortly after diagnosis and says, "Can you be in NYC on Wednesday for an appointment with a renowned specialist at Memorial Sloan Kettering?", the only answer is yes.
I am grateful to come from a family of resilient women with a deep appreciation for the medical profession, inspired by my great-grandfather, who practiced at Mass General in Boston. My mother responded proactively to my diagnosis, leveraging her network of acquaintances, which ultimately guided us to MSK.
May 2015 is a blur, but what stands out in my memories from ten years ago is the incredible kindness, compassion, empathy, patience and heart of everyone I met at MSK. I was, and remain today, so impressed by the positivity that radiated from everyone there. My time at MSK included a seven-hour surgery that was slated to be a Whipple procedure, but thanks to the skill of my surgeons, they were able to save many of my organs and only needed to perform a distal pancreatectomy, leaving my other organs intact.
What I took away
Hearing several celebrities share their journeys with cancer and tumors in the news lately has caused me to reflect on my own, now that I am marking ten years since my diagnosis and surgery. Here is what I can offer from my experience:
- Listen to the signs your body sends you.Notice anything abnormal or different, and be your own advocate. Assert yourself when you feel something is wrong and being missed. The doctors are still not sure whether my bouts of vomiting were tied to the tumor, and they stopped well before my surgery. But because I felt something was off, tests were performed, and the tumor was identified early, while it was still localized and confined to my pancreas.
- Research the right experts and resources to treat you.If possible, don't be bound by geographic limitations. You do not have to march forward with whoever diagnosed you. You can, and maybe you should, but if time allows, pause, take a breath, digest the news you were just given, and get to work researching the best options.
- Follow the guidance.For me, personally, I put my trust and faith in the treatment plan the doctors gave me. Yes, I asked questions, listened and researched the plan, but I did not second-guess them, and I allowed myself not to add extra stress by challenging their plan or hunting for alternatives. The internet tries to turn us all into medical experts, and now, with AI, you can have treatment plans generated for you.
- Give yourself grace.By affording myself grace, I believe I was able to keep myself from spiraling down a dark hole of worst-case scenarios.
- Allow yourself to have faith in the modern medical system.Positive outcomes are never guaranteed, but you may avoid self-imposed stress if you allow yourself to believe in the plan and the medical team you have selected. Let them carry much of the worry for you.
- Build a support network.Direct family, friends, colleagues: it is OK to lean on them. You are entitled to ask for help.
Ten years on
Following my surgery and a two-month recovery, I gained additional perspective and a renewed sense of gratitude for the events of that spring. I attribute my favorable outcome to both faith and fate.
Over the years, I continued with regular follow-up scans at three-, six- and twelve-month intervals, all of which have remained clear. A few years ago, I completed these follow-up assessments, marking my graduation from ongoing care and monitoring by the exceptional gastrointestinal team at MSK. That milestone, though positive, brought a sense of uncertainty as I faced the future on my own.
Today I am the parent of an eleven-year-old daughter, and I am deeply grateful for each day I have with her. I continue to trust that my health will remain stable in the years ahead, and I place confidence in my own awareness, knowing that paying attention to physical changes and advocating passionately for myself played a critical role in preserving my well-being.