By Lisa Boughton
My mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in July of 2010. She had not been feeling well for a few weeks. Finally, my father noticed that she was jaundiced. He called his doctor, who then asked my mom a few questions. After that telephone conversation my dad rushed her to the ER, where we would get the diagnosis that changed our lives forever.
I had only known one other person who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Quickly and painfully he also lost his battle with this horrible disease. I have to admit I never thought of or really heard about this disease before then. Little did I know it would creep into my life again, affecting me forever.
The irony in all of this is that my mother was a nurse. She spent ten years as an oncology nurse at the same hospital where her Whipple procedure was eventually performed. She survived the surgery, two weeks in the hospital, and one round of chemo. We only got five months. The cancer spread to her liver. My mom, my hero, died on November 27, 2010 at just 64 years old.
Anyone who reads this knows how devastating this disease is. I watched her suffer, yet she never let on how much pain she was in. Was that because she was a nurse, had seen people die of cancer and knew what was coming? Did she want to spare us more grief and pain than we already had? Knowing her, the answer is “yes” to all of the above. I would ask her every day, “How are you feeling today mom?” She always replied “so-so”. I could tell she was putting on a brave face. She never complained; never let it get the best of her. She refused our help, whether it was bathing, getting up and down stairs, or urging her to take the pain meds she so desperately needed.
My friend Kelly found the Hirshberg Foundation online and directed me to the website. It has been a God send. In lieu of flowers, we directed that donations be sent to the Hirshberg Foundation and to date we have raised $870.00. In doing so, it was my hope that more people would become aware of pancreatic cancer. I hope and pray that someone else can be spared the pain and devastation this disease inflicts on families and patients alike.
