Shannin Desroches, who is now 27 years old, claims that her severe stomach symptoms were not taken seriously since they were thought to be caused by a gluten sensitivity. It was only after she advocated for herself that the physicians found she had colon cancer. As a result of the rapid progression of the illness, she is now in need of surgery in order to live; however, she is not eligible to have surgery, which means that she is being forced to get palliative care in her native country of Canada. She was able to marry Cody, the man she had loved for a very long time, and she is looking forward to life, asserting, “I don’t want to be a statistic.”
At the time, I was 26 years old, so you don’t believe it’s cancer, do you?
The beginning of my symptoms occurred in October of 2023, and they appeared somewhat suddenly. When I ate a large meal, I would have excruciating discomfort in my lower left abdomen region. However, when I ate smaller meals or even snacks, I would still feel sick to my stomach. My nausea was rather severe. The pain was becoming almost unbearable.
My blood testing came back normal when I went to see my primary care physician. When I went back to him, I told him, “Listen, it’s definitely not good. Could I have a CT scan, an ultrasound, or anything else?” However, my primary care physician did not pay attention to what I had to say. It was his assumption that I had a gluten allergy. It was ultimately determined that he would book me for a CT scan; however, he did not schedule me until October of 2024.
Even after going through three different physicians and a surgeon and lobbying for myself to eventually be diagnosed, it wasn’t until April of 2024 that I was officially given a diagnosis. This was after I had gone through the process of becoming diagnosed. The responses I received from each and every physician were either, “Oh, Shan, you’re young, you’re healthy, it’s nothing serious,” or “you’re overthinking it.” My intuition told me that there was more to it. As a nurse, I am. “Get help!” my body was screaming at me in a very literal sense.
On April 11, I was finally able to have an MRI. Following that, there was a surgeon, along with members of my family and friends, waiting for me there. Something along the lines of “Shannin, we need to admit you.” I was thinking to myself, “What exactly are you talking about?” I did not bring anything that would need me to be accepted. This is Toronto and I live three hours away in Fenelon Falls.” They’re like, “No, we see a blockage, we see lesions.” The surgeon stepped in and was like, “Shan, I don’t wanna freak you out, but this looks like cancer. I specialize in this and it’s very similar.”
I didn’t even cry or anything. I just stood there and I stared at him and I was like, “You did not just say the C word. Like there’s no way! That’s a ‘not a chance in hell’ kind of thing, right?”
Then I got admitted.
I didn’t even have time to do prep. I did conscious sedation, so I was awake for it, but he actually showed me everything on the screen. He only got 30 centimeters in and he saw a huge tumor. I remember seeing it on the screen. My tumor was so big, he couldn’t even get the camera past it to keep going, so he couldn’t even complete my colonoscopy.
At this point, I still wouldn’t have had the CT scan from my family doctor.
Even after going through three different physicians and a surgeon and lobbying for myself to eventually be diagnosed, it wasn’t until April of 2024 that I was officially given a diagnosis. This was after I had gone through the process of becoming diagnosed. The responses I received from each and every physician were either, “Oh, Shan, you’re young, you’re healthy, it’s nothing serious,” or “you’re overthinking it.” My intuition told me that there was more to it. As a nurse, I am. “Get help!” my body was screaming at me in a very literal sense.
On April 11, I was finally able to have an MRI. Following that, there was a surgeon, along with members of my family and friends, waiting for me there. Something along the lines of “Shannin, we need to admit you.” I was thinking to myself, “What exactly are you talking about?” I did not bring anything that would need me to be accepted. I reside in Fenelon Falls, which is three hours distant from Toronto, and here is Toronto. They say something along the lines of “No, we see a blockage, we see lesions.” “Shan, I don’t want to freak you out, but this looks like cancer,” the surgeon said as he emerged from the operating room. My area of expertise is in this, and it is extremely comparable.”
I didn’t even shed a tear or anything else. I simply stood there and gazed at him, and I thought to myself, “You did not just say the C word.” So it’s not even possible! That’s the type of stuff that’s kind of like, ‘not a chance in hell,’ right?
As a result, I was accepted.
It was impossible for me to even prepare for it. I had conscious sedation, which meant that I was aware throughout the procedure; nonetheless, he showed me everything that was shown on the screen. After barely thirty centimeters of incision, he discovered a massive tumor. It was shown on the screen whenever I saw it. Due to the size of my tumor, he was unable to even get the camera to pass through it in order to continue, which meant that he was unable to finish my colonoscopy.
To this day, I would not have gone through with the CT scan that my primary care physician had recommended.
I was being prepped for surgery on April 13. The original plan was getting an ostomy bag, chemo to shrink the tumors and then going back in to reverse the ostomy. And at this point I was in so much pain — but I’m gonna fight. It was supposed to be only one to two hours of surgery.
It ended up turning into a six-hour surgery. I remember the first time I looked down at my abdomen and I was like, “I don’t have an ostomy bag and I’m stapled top to bottom.” So I had a weird feeling. I don’t know if this is good or not, like, were they not able to do it? Just a million things go through your mind, because obviously when you wake up the surgeon isn’t there to talk to you. My now-husband Cody was with me the whole time in the hospital.
I remember they came in to talk to me and that’s when they confirmed it’s stage 4 colorectal cancer. And then they told he removed my entire tumor from my sigmoid colon, reconnected my colon. I had a Krukenberg tumor on my right ovary, which means it had metastasized from elsewhere, so they removed the ovary and my tumor as well. And then he removed 13 lymph nodes from my abdominal wall, and 11 came back positive with cancer. My liver was so covered in tumors. He wasn’t able to touch that.
They were telling me, “I know this sounds so scary and you just had a major, major surgery. We just got so much cancer out of your body.” But they were severely worried about my liver because there was a crazy amount — they couldn’t even count how many tumors were on my liver. It was so covered. They couldn’t even risk doing surgery because they’re way too big, there’s way too many, and it would essentially send me into liver failure. So the plan was to meet with an oncologist and start chemotherapy right away in hopes of shrinking [the cancer in] my liver down.
Normally when you have a Krukenberg tumor in your right ovary, there’s almost a 100% chance that it’s gonna spread to your left ovary. My surgeon said, “I wanted to leave it in order to give you the chance because you’re so young to preserve eggs.”
It was at that moment that everything truly began to sink in for me. You don’t even find yourself thinking about it, do you? When you are 26 years old, you are still digesting the term “cancer,” which is a C word. Just a year ago, my husband and I had just purchased a beautiful home. Kids was the next item on the agenda. The oncologist who was treating me stated, “I want to put you in touch with the fertility doctor.”
On the other hand, there was no “Get Shannin home to heal.” The amount of time I had to comprehend everything was insufficient. I had little time to comprehend the news that I was losing my eggs, that I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, and that I would not be returning to my previous job as a nurse. A simple “Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!” was all that was heard. Absolutely insane.
It was terrible for my body to have to endure the quantity of hormones and medicines that I was pumped with in order to do this in such a short length of time. Both the hormones that they were administering to me plus the fact that I was stapled from top to bottom in my belly caused me to feel quite queasy. Trying to throw up while getting stapled from top to bottom is a nightmare. My staples throughout my whole abdomen felt like they were being pulled apart every time I heaved. It was a really uncomfortable sensation. My agony has never been this intense before. I had never felt so uneasy in my whole life. In addition, I am not joking: there was a moment in time when I begged to quit, but I persisted, and I am thankful that I did so since we were able to gather seven eggs, which is not an overwhelming number. In most cases, you will get a great deal more; nevertheless, taking into account that I only had one ovary and that everything was completed in a matter of weeks, I was really thankful to even have seven since it was my only opportunity to do this.
The reason I gave my husband Cody complete legal rights was so that in the event that anything were to happen to me, he would still be able to utilize them and have a piece of me regardless. Next, we took pictures of the family. On that particular day, everyone had a lot of conflicting feelings; they were all wondering, “Is this it? ” in the back of their thoughts. With all of us, is this going to be the final major time we spend together? In that very moment, if you had told me, “Hey Shannin, you know, you’re going to make it to your wedding in a few months and you’re going to get married in Jamaica,” I would not have believed you.
I started chemotherapy, but during the thirteenth session, I noticed that my heart was beginning to beat irregularly. I can also recall sending Cody a very brief text message. I texted him, saying something along the lines of “Come in right now.” He had gone to fetch something from his vehicle. But that is all I have to say. I was surrounded by six nurses and a doctor, and I was on the verge of going into anaphylactic shock when he came sprinting in. By the time he arrived from the parking lot, I was already out of breath.
A further round of chemotherapy was administered to us. In the event that I did have a response, they administered steroids and Benadryl to me beforehand, with the expectation that it would not be as severe. I was immediately able to respond to it.
According to my oncologist, we should just give up on it. A response was triggered by your body, which is your body’s way of expressing that it has had enough. I was really upset over it, but now I’m looking at my next options.
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I tried for surgery: A hepatic arterial infusion (HAI) pump that delivers chemotherapy directly into the liver. In Canada, they won’t do the surgery if I have cancer outside of my liver. And I have a small tumor on my left ovary starting — so that’s preventing me from getting surgery. The CT can’t assess it properly. It’s really bothering me that I don’t know what’s going on there. I share my story on TikTok and I started a GoFundMe in hopes that I could get to the states where they’ll do it, because right now I am considered palliative.
When I got diagnosed, my surgeon gave me three years to live. And he’s like, “The only way we’re gonna beat that is if we have surgery and remove it from your liver.” So, it’s kind of this crunch time where it’s been almost a year now. The surgery is gonna cost a ridiculous amount, but you just do what you gotta do, you know.
I had my ideal wedding in October of last year, and we were married. When I consider that I only had four weeks to put together the wedding, it was absolutely magnificent. In Jamaica, it was situated directly on the beach, close to the ocean. My hair was washed by Cody for me while all of this was going on. For me, he washed me. And he fed me. For me, he put on my socks. Due to the fact that I do not believe I would be able to win this battle without him, I owe him my whole life.
Initially, I began producing a large quantity of f— cancer merchandise and selling it on Etsy. I used to consider it more of a pastime, but I really like doing it. In light of the fact that surgery is the only thing that can save my life, it is something that will help me keep me occupied and help me bring in some money. If I don’t undergo the operation, I won’t be able to make it through this.
I am now facing so many challenges that I am not even able to contemplate the fact that it has been two years. I do, in fact, give it some thought since it is the driving force for my will to fight so hard. I don’t give it the victory because I’m thinking to myself, “That’s just a statistic.” My goal is to avoid becoming just another statistic. It is my goal to come out on top. My doctor informed me that there is a probability of fewer than five percent that I will pull through this. That 5% is the target for me.
@shannindesroches Sorry for the long video, hopefully this reaches the right crowd & we fight this together 🤍 #coloncancerawareness #HAIP #haipsurgery #hepaticarterialinfusionpump #stagefourcancer #breastcancer #lymphoma #livercancer ♬ Lights Are On – Instrumental – Edith Whiskers