Full Torpedoes Ahead

In June 2012, my father underwent surgery to remove a gastrointestinal stromal tumor (GIST). We were fortunate—the tumor was detected early, successfully excised with clear margins, and described as slow-growing. My father had a renewed lease on life. Yet, his recovery did not go as expected. He struggled to eat, lost weight rapidly, and suffered persistent symptoms. Over six months, he was referred back and forth among the surgeon, gastroenterologist, and oncologist, but despite classic signs—abdominal pain, discomfort beneath the shoulder blade, foul-smelling and pale stools, and mildly elevated blood sugar—no one considered pancreatic disease. The surgeon insisted the issue was not surgical, the gastroenterologist recommended dietary adjustments, and the oncologist advised seeking another opinion. By January, my father had lost 70 pounds.

We were fortunate to secure an appointment at the University of Michigan with Dr. Anoop Prabhu (“Dr. Snoopy”), who was then a fellow. Dr. Prabhu was the first to make my father feel truly supported. Within a week, after a thorough battery of tests, he personally called us on a Friday evening to relay the news no one wants to hear—a mass in the pancreas. That weekend felt endless.

Dr. Prabhu expedited my father’s care, arranging for Dr. Anderson to perform a scope and biopsy on Monday. It was a grueling 15-hour day, yet Dr. Anderson found space in her packed schedule. She was initially hopeful the tumor might be operable—I cried, my father exhaled, and we waited for pathology results buoyed by hope. Unfortunately, the following week, the oncologist and tumor board determined it was stage 3B with vascular involvement. “Chemotherapy, perhaps radiation…maybe a year and a half, two years,” was the prognosis. When my father asked with trepidation what would happen if he declined treatment, the answer was gentle but stark: “Six months to a year…maybe.”

I inquired about the possibility of shrinking the tumor to become eligible for surgery. “Some patients are super responders,” they told us—but with only a 1% chance. Sitting in that room, my father clenched his fist and, with military resolve, looked the oncologist in the eye and said, “Full torpedoes ahead, then.” He started chemotherapy that Friday, choosing not to wait even for a port to be placed.

Throughout treatment, my father maintained remarkable bravery. “I’m envisioning bullets running through my body, shooting down that tumor,” he said. Just two days after his first infusion, he walked me down the aisle; he still had his hair, and I still had my father.

Lawrence, my father, battled through six months of chemotherapy—twice—and experienced two complete remissions. We lived in hope that he’d make it long enough for the next approved therapy or clinical trial. Thanks to Dr. Prabhu and the exceptional U-M team, we shared almost two more years together.

It has now been twelve years since I first picked up his fight. I advocate that clinicians never overlook the possibility of pancreatic cancer when symptoms arise; I raise awareness so that all of us—patients, friends, and families—can be our own strongest advocates and demand proper pancreatic evaluation. I fight for early detection, for deeper understanding of disease mechanisms, and for improved treatment options. His battle is now mine, and ours. I will not stop until we find better therapies. As I continue my training to become a future leader in pancreatic cancer research, my rallying cry remains: “Full torpedoes ahead, my friends. Full torpedoes ahead.”

PanCAN’s PurpleStride, a year-round national initiative, funds lifechanging programs and services for pancreatic cancer patients and their families.