What a Difference a Day Makes: 'There is life after pancreatic cancer — I’m proof of that'

Pancreatic cancer survivor Pamela Deasy tells Helen O’Callaghan about the moment she received her shattering diagnosis — how hope was all she had to cling to, how determination got her through. And the West Cork woman talks about how doing the Camino this year represents just one way in which she is now embracing life and all it has to offer

Pamela Deasy: 'Hope is a small word but it means so much. It’s all you have to cling to when you get the news, when undergoing treatment.' Picture Chani Anderson.

May 2018, this tiredness, fatigue. I put it down to being busy. I had no other consistent symptoms.

Everything came to a head one week in December. Sunday morning the itchiness started, in bed at night tearing the legs off myself. On the Thursday, jaundice, the GP thinking a blocked bile duct.

In the Bons Hospital on Friday, December 7, I was severely fatigued, drained — trying to sleep, yet drink the dye for the CT scan. Then an ultrasound, probe on my stomach hurting… I knew by the tester’s worried face that something was up.

At 9pm I got the news. When you hear ‘you have cancer’, time shatters. Imagine hearing ‘pancreatic’ put in front of that! I thought ‘that’s it — game over’. My life had reached the final page of the book before I’d even finished reading it.

Fear, anxiety, disbelief — emotions coursing through, like I was in a liminal space… All night never sleeping… This lovely trainee nurse coming in, asking did I want to talk to anyone?

Next morning, lots of questions, I knew what to ask the oncologist. I’d been down this road before — my mother had lung cancer.

Pamela Deasy: 'When you hear ‘you have cancer’, time shatters. Imagine hearing ‘pancreatic’ put in front of that! I thought ‘that’s it – game over’. My life had reached the final page of the book before I’d even finished reading it.'

I knew nobody who’d survived pancreatic cancer. He sat beside my bed, said what could be done, what we were going to do about surgery.

All the positives I needed to hear — reinforcing that I wasn’t going down a rabbit hole of doom-and-gloom. Six sessions of chemo, each over 72 hours every two weeks — leaving hospital Wednesday evenings, canister attached, getting chemo all day Thursday, half of Friday. The road to West Cork horrendous, a bowl in my lap, feeling every pothole. Three rounds in, my legs going from under me, frequently falling.

After all this…the tumour hadn’t shrunk. It needed to, for me to be eligible for Whipple surgery. I was fit, in my 40s, they decided on a stronger chemo/radiotherapy combination… So sick, I was hospitalised for six weeks. My whole psyche revolving around not wanting to end up on the cancer ward where my mother had passed away,

When I got there, the cancer ward had moved to the former maternity ward where I was born, where I’d been given life! This gave me hope, that my life would continue after all this.

My tumour shrank. When the doctor said I was eligible for surgery I felt no relief — I was so weak, I just thought: ‘I have to keep going… I need to sleep.’

Later, wondering am I able for this? Six weeks on the flat of my back I had severe muscle wastage.

Pamela Deasy: 'I depended on my son and dad’s support at home and for going out. The loss of control, having to put my faith in others’ hands… Three years to get some semblance of life back.'

Discharged for two weeks to build myself up, get my head ready: Whipple surgery is life-saving — and life-altering. Like re-plumbing and re-wiring your digestive system. What would the life impact be? But it’s the only cure, I had to do it.

August 2019. Eleven-and-a-half-hour surgery. It went fine. Afterwards I knew I was different inside. Everything you eat going straight through or staying stuck in what stomach you’ve left, lifelong digestive issues.

Surgery was alienating. I was confined to the house. Fear, anxiety, around needing to use the toilet, if I went out and had an accident. No energy, muscle wastage, my digestion and balance affected — if I fell who’d pick me up?

I depended on my son and dad’s support at home and for going out. The loss of control, having to put my faith in others’ hands… Three years to get some semblance of life back. 

End of 2020, I started taking back control, I hadn’t cooked in over a year. First day back in the kitchen, peeling potatoes, taking ages, I persevered. Making things I thought I’d like, learning what suited me now, a process.

Pamela Deasy: 'One of the early days, thrown in bed, I saw on TV about the Camino. Right then I said if I ever get the chance to do that, I will. I did it this year, the French route.'

I started thinking about the future. Focusing not on what I’d been through, what cancer had done to me, but what doors would cancer open. I graduated last November with a BA in Sociology and Religion. I’d never have thought of college at this stage of life. I’ve got involved with patient advocacy.

One of the early days, thrown in bed, I saw on TV about the Camino. Right then I said if I ever get the chance to do that, I will. I did it this year, the French route. I didn’t eat or drink the first two days, worried about toilet issues. But then I had to start eating, go with it, what happened, happened — I’d just have to deal with it.

I stayed in dorms with 40 people, in single rooms in convents, I went to Vespers with nuns — the whole experience so empowering. Walking up over the Pyrenees: to think I needed support to do basic household things! Giving thanks to be here.

I’m on a different route now. Five year survival from pancreatic cancer is 14%. Some 86% who started the journey with me are no longer here — for me it’s important to carry those voices with me.

Hope is a small word but it means so much. It’s all you have to cling to when you get the news, when undergoing treatment. Now it’s like I’ve closed that chapter — all I’ve gone through in these years – and I’m starting another chapter of what I can do next.

• Co-founder of Pancreatic Cancer Ireland, Pamela Deasy is on the patient advisory committee with Digestive Cancers Europe. A volunteer driver with Cancer Connect, she was a European Parliament guest speaker, talking about her lived experience with pancreatic cancer.