December 11, 2017 – First Surgeon Visit
Today
was a big day. January 9, 2018 will be D-Day.
This morning Kay and I had the
first visit with my surgeon. It will not be my last. We learned quite a bit
today. Some of it left us a bit off kilter. Some of it was just what we
anticipated.
The surgeon who will perform my
surgery was a great find. I became connected to him through a friend. He is
older and seasoned. He has seen this exact type of cancer countless times. He
spoke honestly and with clarity. He did not cut any corners but clearly laid
out – even drawing on paper – exactly what would happen and what we can
anticipate. It is not a pretty picture. However it is not as bleak as it could
be.
In 2010 when my wife was diagnosed
with Triple Negative Breast Cancer, we learned that not all breast cancers are
created equal. Today we learned that not all Pancreatic Cancers are either.
We learned today that less than 20%
of pancreatic cancer patients are able to have my surgery. Most of them simply
have the difficult conversation that it is inoperable. That is not the case
with me. But when you learn what all is involved, you may think it is! J
Actually, we just had a “different difficult discussion.” I am in the 20% that can have surgery it
appears, so this shows that God was gracious.
Kay and I entered the room thinking
that perhaps the tumor was sitting on the head of the pancreas. We learned that
the last test showed that not to be the case. It actually was in the pancreas
itself. That changes everything, and is not good news. While we had hopes the
tumor could simply be removed from the pancreas, it will require something much
more invasive.
My surgical procedure goes by the
name of the Whipple Method, named for the MD who pioneered it. My entire
digestive tract is about to be altered. I would not advise looking it up. Just
sayin’ . . .
The surgery will begin with the
implanting of a port in my upper spine that will be used for the next 5-days to
release pain medications. Following that I will be sedated and they will begin
with a laparoscopic procedure to look around inside my abdomen and assure
themselves that the cancer has indeed not spread. If they find it has, they
will close me up and forego the procedure. There would be no reason to attempt
the surgery if that is the case.
If all is clear, I will have an
incision that will run from the last rib on the left side of my body to the
last rib on the right side of my body. That is about 10 – 12 inches in length.
Kay told me that my bikini days are now over! I will have one hellacious scar
to show off though!
Once inside me they will remove the
front half of my pancreas, the lower tenth of my stomach, my gall bladder, all
duct work that connects them to my small intestine, and the upper part of my
small intestine called the duodenum. All this time they must avoid two major
arteries that run though the center of the body. This part of the surgery will take 3 – 4
hours.
The second half of the surgery will
require moving part of the remaining lower intestine upward and then attaching
the liver, the remaining stomach, and the remaining pancreas directly to this
portion of the small intestine. There are many enzyme producing glands that
must have their tubes connected so things can function. This is another 3 – 4
hour procedure. It is all quite involved and fraught with possibilities for
complications.
Following the 6 – 8 hour surgery I
will be in intensive care for a couple of days, depending upon how my body
responds. I will be hospitalized for 7 – 21 days, again depending on how my
body responds and accepts the new attachments. The type of tissue the various
organs are made off will determine how well that goes. Evidently, each person’s
body has different “textures” in their organs. Who knew?
If the body heals as anticipated
and I avoid infection I will be discharged home. I will be out of commission
for close to two months I am told. It will be longer than that before my
stamina returns. It is amazing how quickly your body loses its stamina
following surgery. I will learn patience.
If all goes well with the recovery, I will follow this up with 4 – 6 months of chemotherapy to extricate any remaining microscopic cancer cells. Losing what hair I have left is no fun prospect. Losing my beard is even less so. My chin has not seen sunshine since 1988. I will be one more ugly cancer specimen!
I started this post with an
analogy. I called today a big day, and January 9th as D-Day. That
was intentional. D-Day, or the Normandy Invasion, was the beginning of the
Allies onslaught to defeat the Third Reich and the German army. It was bloody.
It was gruesome. It was painful. It carried a tremendous loss of life. It was
well thought out and planned. It was followed by the campaign that ultimately
defeated the Axis powers, and led to victory. For me, January 9, 2018 will be
that same event. It will be bloody, painful, and gruesome. (Hopefully there
will be no loss of life!) Our plans are that it will begin the campaign that
will defeat cancer in our family for a second time.
What are the odds that a husband
and a wife would both have cancer (albeit completely different types,) undergo
surgery, chemotherapy and (planned for me anyway) recovery? I guess it’s too
late to purchase that lottery ticket, huh?
Friends, God is good – ALL the time!
Next post I will explain a bit how
we chose our surgery date. Stay tuned.
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