The morning Karen Hughes discovered the jaundice was deceptively ordinary. She’d just finished her morning coffee in her North Vancouver home when her husband pointed to her eyes – the whites had turned yellow overnight.
“I thought it might be something I ate,” Karen recalls, sitting across from me at her kitchen table, sunshine streaming through windows that frame the coastal mountains. “I had no pain. Nothing that screamed ’emergency.'”
But within 48 hours, Karen found herself in a whirlwind of tests at Lions Gate Hospital. The diagnosis came with brutal clarity: pancreatic adenocarcinoma, the most common and aggressive form of pancreatic cancer.
“The doctor said ‘pancreatic cancer,’ and honestly, everything after that became white noise,” she says, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea gone cold. “All I could think was, ‘This is how I die.'”
That reaction isn’t uncommon. Pancreatic cancer remains one of Canada’s deadliest forms of cancer, with a five-year survival rate hovering around 10 percent according to Canadian Cancer Society statistics. The disease claims approximately 5,500 Canadian lives annually, often because symptoms typically appear only after the disease has advanced.
But Karen’s story defies those statistics.
After her diagnosis in 2018, Karen underwent the complex Whipple procedure at Vancouver General Hospital – a surgery that removes the head of the pancreas, part of the small intestine, the gallbladder, and bile duct. The 8-hour operation was followed by six months of grueling chemotherapy.
“The chemo nearly broke me,” Karen admits. “I lost 32 pounds. My daughter had to move back home to help care for me. Some days, I couldn’t even sip water without vomiting.”
Dr. Anna Richardson, a medical oncologist at BC Cancer who treats pancreatic cancer patients but wasn’t involved in Karen’s care, explains why the disease presents such challenges.
“The pancreas sits deep within the abdomen, making early detection difficult. By the time symptoms appear – jaundice, unexplained weight loss, abdominal pain – the cancer has often spread,” Richardson says. “We’re working to improve screening techniques for high-risk individuals, but we’re not there yet with population-wide screening.”
What made Karen’s case different was timing and location. Her jaundice appeared when the tumor blocked her bile duct but before the cancer had spread beyond the pancreas. This, coupled with her otherwise good health at age 62, made her eligible for surgery – an option available to fewer than 20 percent of patients.
I visited the Pancreatic Cancer Canada Foundation’s Vancouver support group where Karen now volunteers. In a community center meeting room, eight survivors and family members shared stories of diagnosis, treatment, and grief. Their experiences highlighted Canada’s geographic disparities in cancer care.
“I drove three hours each way for my chemo treatments,” said George, a retired logger from a small Vancouver Island community. “Some weeks, I couldn’t make it because of weather or ferry cancellations.”
According to a 2022 report from the Canadian Partnership Against Cancer, rural patients face significantly more barriers to specialized cancer care than urban residents. The report found that pancreatic cancer patients in metropolitan areas were 24 percent more likely to receive surgery than those in rural regions.
Karen acknowledges her privilege in this regard. “I lived 15 minutes from Lions Gate and 30 from VGH. I had family support and good insurance that covered medications not provided by BC’s Medical Services Plan. Not everyone has those advantages.”
Now five years post-diagnosis, Karen calls herself a “reluctant poster child” for pancreatic cancer survival. Her kitchen counter displays a collection of purple ribbons – the international symbol for pancreatic cancer awareness – and her calendar is filled with speaking engagements at cancer fundraisers.
“The survival guilt is real,” she confesses. “Why did I make it when so many others don’t? I’ve lost eight friends from my support group in three years.”
Karen channels that survivor’s guilt into advocacy. She participates in a patient partner program with BC Cancer, providing feedback on communication materials for newly diagnosed patients. She also volunteers with the Canadian Cancer Society’s peer support network, speaking with patients facing similar diagnoses.
Dr. Daniel Renouf, co-director of Pancreatic Cancer BC, points to research advancements offering hope. “We’re seeing promising results with precision medicine approaches that target specific genetic mutations in pancreatic tumors,” he explains. “Clinical trials are exploring immunotherapy combinations that might help the body’s immune system recognize and fight pancreatic cancer cells.”
A study published in the Canadian Medical Association Journal last year found that pancreatic cancer rates are rising faster than most other cancers in Canada, particularly among women under 50. Researchers attribute this partly to increasing obesity rates and changes in dietary patterns, though genetic factors play a significant role.
Back in Karen’s living room, she shows me a painting her granddaughter made during her treatment – a vibrant purple landscape with the words “Grandma is Strong” scrawled in a child’s handwriting.
“On my darkest days, this kept me going,” Karen says, her voice catching. “Cancer takes so much from you. Your dignity. Your independence. Your sense of future. But it also shows you what matters.”
As evening approaches, Karen prepares for her weekly walk with a group of cancer survivors who meet at Ambleside Beach. She packs extra water and a light snack – her digestive system still hasn’t fully recovered from the Whipple procedure.
“My body will never be the same,” she says, zipping up a light jacket against the coastal breeze. “I take enzyme supplements with every meal. I can’t eat like I used to. But I’m here. I get to see my grandkids grow. I get to advocate for others.”
For Canadians concerned about pancreatic cancer, Karen emphasizes the importance of knowing family history and recognizing symptoms: unexplained weight loss, abdominal or mid-back pain, changes in stool, new-onset diabetes, and jaundice.
“Don’t ignore the yellow eyes,” she says with a wry smile. “They saved my life.”
As Canada faces an aging population and rising cancer rates, stories like Karen’s illuminate both the progress made and the distance yet to travel in treating one of our most lethal diseases. In the meantime, survivors like her create communities of hope in the shadow of daunting statistics – one purple ribbon at a time.
