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I was diagnosed in January 2018 with Pancreatic Neuroendocrine Cancer. My treatment? The Whipple (removal of half of my digestive system half pancreas, half stomach, half upper intestine, my gallbladder, dissected a shredding artery and removed 9 lymph nodes). I was terrified as Pancreatic Cancer is extremely deadly. I also have a growing unruptured brain aneurysm, inactive cardiomyopathy (heart failure), severe arthritis rheumatoid and psoriatic arthritis. The heart problem is a genetic heart condition I was born with as is the brain aneurysm. I was “promised” by neurosurgery it would never change and tripled in 2 years. In other words I have a bomb in my brain and my heart can stop at anytime. I was born with Wolf Parkinson White Syndrome and have had heart attacks all my life even as a little girl. It has resulted in cardiomyopathy (Thank God it’s inactive), and I had Type 1 Diabetes. It’s now Type 3. Which makes T1 seems as if you have a pancreas. So…I’ve had medical problems. All caused by genetics on my moms side of the family. This isn’t her fault…but it’s important to know that all of my medical problems are the result of genetic disorders I was born with.I had always heard and observed families and friends and even communities wrap around a person with cancer. And all fought with the warrior to honor their life and support them so they can beat this hideous monster (I call it Satan or the snake or the Aramaic word Sartan. Which if you take out the r is Satan. I have observed churches pull together when someone has cancer and fellowships with one with cancer and even people visit them and tell them they love them. Celebrate the survival of a surgery that is so dangerous only 20% of people with pancreatic cancer are eligible for it. And at 5 years, research shows only 2% survival rate no matter stage of cancer. Mine was in the area of my pancreas that releases insulin and other hormones. On the day I told my mom, sister, cousin and aunt. I was called a liar. And my mom told everyone I was lying to have weight loss surgery. I gained a lot of weight due to the cancer (didn’t know cancer can do that. It was because of the hormone surges in my neuroendocrine system. Where the cancer is. It is specific to itself and attack’s pituitary, pancreas, stomach, liver, lungs, esophogus, and can end up anywhere in my body. It’s a brain and spinal cord cancer that usually affects the digestive system. But travels anywhere it wants to. It can be very slow growing or become deadly in weeks. According to my oncologist the difference between life and death for me is the difference between having support and love and feeling as if I matter…or the opposite. To abuse and neglect and ignore someone with this type of cancer is a death sentence. It affects my stomach. Because my stomach was cut in half…throwing up can cause the cancer to invade my stomach. I am not to be upset…because of the damage it does to hormones. When I gained weight…my mother (and as it turned out my sister) and maybe my other family members concocted this story I was having weight loss surgery. And lying about the cancer to have weight loss surgery…and to get attention. They called me a liar all initiated by my mom and sister. They somehow reached my friends (all my friends are social workers) and they in turn took on the same lie. My self esteem is not nor has it ever been tied to my weight. I never considered weight loss surgery. And The Whipple is only for pancreatic cancer. No insurance company is going to pay over a million dollars in bills for The Whipple for weight loss surgery and no oncological surgeon would perform it. It’s simply too dangerous.My mom and my sister contacting my friends to tell them a liar as I make up medical problems for attention. A brain aneurysm? Really? This wouldn’t get me attention. If it ruptures I’m gone. In a second. No time for attention. Heart failure? Really? Same thing…my heart will just blow up no time for attention. I don’t need to make up stories for attention…my intelligence is what gets attention. So…all of my friends took the same position I was lying. Work? They said nice words. But not one person called or texted or messaged me. And no one showed up to the hospital during or after my whipple (except my husband and son)….i was in intensive care and in hospital for two weeks and no visitors.My mom and sister were horrendous to me. They told me they don’t love me. Mom told me she never did. My cousin who is like a twin to me…I love her that much…didn’t believe me either and neither did my aunt who I love like a mother. I have not received any love from anyone except my husband and son and they have issues with this as well…so all three of us are in Hell and my family and friends all refused to “pretend” they love me to get me through this. My sister told me I didn’t have the right to do the surgery since it was my sons final year in high school. He’s autistic and I dreamed of his graduation date. My surgery was less then 2 months before he graduated…she told me I was ruining his life and if I was a good mother I wouldn’t cry or scream or pray out loud. She told me I’m selfish and will never forgive me for this. If I hadn’t had the whipple I would have died before he graduated (I had a shredding artery on top of my gallbladder one of my many anomoly’s. I went into cardiac arrest during The Whipple. My surgery was 11.5 hours and I’m still not right. It’s been 2 years. Weight loss surgery isn’t an 11.5 hour surgery and my scar goes from between my nipples all the way down to my pelvic bone. That’s also not the way they do weight loss surgery.On the day of my surgery, my mom called the hospital 14 times demanding they stop the surgery as I’m a liar. She first called the surgeon who diagnosed me. He finally banned her from calling the hospital at all. I also heard her yelling a nurse the same thing when I was out of surgery. She kept calling the nurses station and screaming I’m a liar. As far as I’m concerned she tried to kill me that day.I was told by everyone in my family they were not going to fall for my lies by coming to the hospital. And my mom talked to surgeon. I released information so they would tell her the truth. She called him a liar. My sister was so mad she refused to have anything to do with me. All because i had my pancreatic cancer surgery before my sons graduation. I’m sure he would have been much more devastated if I had died rather then have surgery. But they don’t care. The day before my surgery, my aunt called me and told me she loves me but will be praying for me to die. She was sobbing. I was crushed.It’s been over 2 years. And I haven’t seen anyone and they only live about 45 minutes away. They won’t speak to me or take my messages. My cousin texts me but usually doesn’t respond to my responses. She lives 40 minutes away from me. And maybe has answered the phone for me in two years 3 times. She also didn’t come to the hospital. I was so sick I was in ICU and no one would visit me. One of my surgeons asked me why I didn’t have any visitors after cancer surgery. I felt ashamed of myself because by then I felt worthless. I have pancreatic cancer and no support.Since I have had cancer…my mother has legally disowned me. Blocked me and doesn’t acknowledge I’m even alive. She called on day when I came home after I finished throwing up poop (that’s what can happen with this surgery and does with me at least twice a week. I was crying and told her I had just thrown up poop. She laughed at me and told me to get over it. I hung up on her. She has spread this rumor I lied about having cancer to my entire home town anyone who would listen to her. So…I get nothing. Not even a message or acknowledgement from anyone in my home town. To them I’m scum. And I looked forward to seeing my son graduate from high school he worked so hard. I went but I don’t remember it he was diagnosed at 4 and my dream was him graduating mainstreamed and on time. He did. I’m so proud! But…he doesn’t know I don’t remember his graduation. I was so sick sitting was too much energy and I wanted to just melt into the ground. That I remember. He’s in college now but out it off a year to take care of me.When I returned home my husband and son had to go back to work and school. So I was home alone for 9 hours a day alone after The Whipple. I sent out calls and texts and messages and BEGGED my family and friends to help me as I was sure I was dying. No one responded. My two golden doodles took care of me. Literally my dogs took care of me after surgery. I even reached out to cancer advocates and PANCAN for someone other then my husband to talk to (there are things you can’t say to your husband and son in cancer…like what I want when I die. But I really only wanted someone to talk to me. I was too sick to open my mouth. I would open it to say something…the nausea would start and I was throwing up poop. I just wanted to feel love or see something pretty or hear someone’s voice. I didn’t want money or food. I just wanted love. I contacted 3 churches with thousands of members…calls, messages and on social media begging for someone as a friend. I got nothing. People would suggest I go to church. I couldn’t stand up without throwing up poop…I don’t think they would have wanted me at church. I begged someone to visit me even churches said I had to come to them and never followed through. I’m not a horrible selfish mean person and I’m not a liar. I’m a social worker who spent my life serving people that others ignore. And saving children and families from abuse and neglect and providing therapy to many many many families and children. And I do it for free now. I never wanted anything except to feel as if I’m loved and my life is important. And mostly I just wanted to hear someone talk to me. It didn’t happen and doesn’t happen now. I wrote poetry about my feelings and other things. It just comes out. It’s the only way I can deal with this and I’m in therapy. I have lost 160 pounds since my surgery. I lost about 60 immediately after surgery. No one sees me. I’m now extremely thin. My bones hurt so bad because without fat on them…they touch everything. I can’t even take a bath. My tailbone hurts so bad I cry. The arthritis is worse now that im think and I’m always so cold (even on 100 degree wrather)…which makes my pain excruciating.No one calls me before a scan (I have them every 3 months) or after a scan or my every three month appointments to see my oncologist. And they never ask or concern themselves as to where my cancer is now or how it’s doing. They don’t care. My mom told me she doesn’t ever want to see me alive again…only in heaven (she’s is very religious) and then asks me if I’m saved. Because if not I’m going to Hell and she won’t ever see me. This seems to be a big thing with religious people. They want to know if I’m saved…and won’t even come over or text or message or talk to me to try to save me. When people are religious and don’t even care if you are saved…it is a huge indicator they don’t love you. I’m extremely spiritual. I do what people are taught to do in church…I got out and immersed myself with poor people, homeless, mentally ill and I hold hands with people with HIV. And hug them (before the cancer since then I’m usually so sick I’m in bed) and before pandemic. no one to sit with me in my fear before a scan and no one to hold my hand as I’m so terrified I have tremors to find out if I have at least 3 more months. For cancer warriors we live one scan to the next.My friends? One told me she doesn’t want to hear from me again unless I have a date to die, my best friend told me I’m lying and too much drama and now is very close with my sister who won’t even talk to me. My sister and I don’t have any other siblings. I’m the oldest. So she threw away her only sister because my mother is a pathological liar and a malignant narcissist. Holidays? Birthdays? I don’t exist anymore. They buried me without noticing I’m still breathing. As I was screaming they were throwing dirt on me. I wish this wasn’t a true story. But it is. I will post pictures so you can see the change in me physically as a result of cancer. PleaSe be kind. I look awful as I don’t digest much of my food.The first picture is now. The second is after my Whipple. My hair? Lost half of it after surgery…I look hideous. This is a difference of two years and no one believes me.I used to me pretty. But now I’m hideous