When I learned I had pancreatic cancer, I wondered what difference would it have made for me to get genetic testing? I had no idea the role my genetic make-up played in my success as a survivor 14 years later.
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By the time this is posted much will have been written on the devastating tragedy in Parkland, Florida. As a nation, we experience so much grief, however in our own lives, none more shattering than losing a loved one.
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I was recently thinking back on a very low point in my cancer journey. Every little undertaking seemed monumental. Everyday things I took for granted that were performed with energy, enthusiasm and often with little effort, were now overwhelming. My road to recovery was not a straightforward path, in fact there was nothing encouraging about it at all.
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It is Friday, July 21st, day one of my recovery from two abdominal surgeries on July 11th and the Whipple surgery on July 14th. I thought I would be confined to a bed, as movement of any kind was a monumental effort. I experienced a lack of appetite for the first time in my life, sleep eluded me and boredom was this ominous cloud that hung over me. I was restless, feeling drab, insufferably exhausted and in unbearable pain. How could just walking to the next room take everything out of me?
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