Help Our Lisa Fight Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer

In November 2021, after feeling unwell for months but not knowing why, our friend Lisa Martin was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, a particularly nasty form of the disease. Unable to work due to brutal chemo treatments, she needs not only our spiritual support, but financial assistance to cover the bills until she can return to work and life as she knew it.

 

A brilliant writer, filmmaker, fiercely loving friend, and devoted cat mama, Lisa has inspired, and vicariously thrilled, those of us lucky enough to have known her over the years. Whether you met her at a film festival, freelance job, squeezed into a corner at our little Tile Bar in the East Village, over a Bloody Mary at Harry’s after a move to Paris, or while sunning with Toby, Mousse, and Lolo on her terrasse overlooking the French Riviera, Lisa has endeared all of us with her determination, wit and joie de vivre.

It is devastating for us to witness her plight, but we're hanging in with her every step of the way, praying and conjuring both an ease to the ongoing financial stress and swiftest possible recovery.

 

Below, a message directly from Lisa. Appuyez ici pour lire en français 

 

 

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Dear friends,

 

As many of you already know, I am in the fight of—more precisely, for—my life. Less than 3 months ago, I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer of the pancreas that had already spread lesions to a lung, the liver and bone, as well as blocked an artery.

 

Pancreatic cancer is notoriously difficult to detect. By the time the symptoms lead to a scan, most people are already in advanced stages. Once I was admitted to a hospital, the diagnosis was handed to me soberly by a doctor I named Dr. Death 1 for his cold demeanor and no mention of options. He alternated only with Dr. Death 2 whose approach was similar. I chalked it up to cultural differences and traumatically began researching euthanasia. My work in oncology wasn’t helpful; research led me to the same somber stats and few options I already knew. Without ever being introduced to an oncologist, much less a discussion of my options, I raced through the stages of grief in a single afternoon. I thought only of recovering enough strength to fly to one of the neighboring EU states that allow assisted suicide. Those were dark days.

 

 

 

 

Luckily with the help of friends, I recovered my senses and my fight. I submitted to tests, scans, and biopsies while researching better cancer treatment that might be available to me in the area. By the time I could leave, I’d found--by divine intervention—Dr. Angelique Saint (yes, it was her name that sealed it) at Lacassagne, a world-class oncology center in Nice. Within 2 weeks I’d begun chemo.

 

I am grateful to have found excellent treatment though, as they all do, the French system has its pros and cons. The greatest gift is that between the state and my private insurance, I am fully covered for standard-of-care therapy and pay few out-of-pocket costs. The cons are that there are fewer clinical trials and experimental approaches available to me. I have been rejected from one trial, but my doctor presses on, submitting my dossier to all those for which I’m eligible here or in Paris.

 

Treatment thus far has been difficult. The tumor has lodged itself between my biliary duct and pancreas. Initially prescribed chemo for the biliary duct, I went through the course of 2 months only to learn that not only was the protocol ineffective, but the tumor grew. I return this week to try the regimen for pancreas. Other blood markers had improved, so I’m hoping this time will be more successful. While it’s true late-stage prognoses are not great, there are people who are managing to live with this disease. Especially promising, even beyond targeted therapies, is the development of “cocktails,” powerful combinations of off-patent, obsolete medications. As in the early days of HIV before retrovirals, researchers and only the most intrepid doctors have found astonishing success with some patients living beyond 20 years. These are hard to come by, but I intend to continue research and get my hands on anything I can smuggle in to help me.

 

 

 

 

So, here’s the deeply humbling part where I ask for your help. While treatment is covered, the rest of life is not. I have been unable to work, which, until we see the tumor shrink significantly, will likely continue. As every cancer patient will attest, chemo’s legendary tsunami of poisons creates rolling side effects that build cumulatively. The irony of feeling so close to death in the name of avoiding it is almost amusing—on a good day.

 

Heart and hands full, I ask for your help. I have enjoyed contributing to a wide range of campaigns in the past whether medical, loss of homes to fires, natural disasters, films, books, and art projects, never imagining I too would be on the receiving end.

 

 

 

I appreciate all those who are sharing this journey--the kind that no one chooses--with me. I won’t lie: there are many dark days, and yet my dear friends refuse to turn away. If you know me, I kissed or hugged or bought you a beer, likely a combination of all 3, the last time we met. I know that times are tough for many. Whether you are able to contribute or not, it means the world to know that I am not fighting alone. I thank you profoundly for walking beside me.

 

Cheers till we meet again.

Love, Lisa

 

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Lisa is also posting when she can on Instagram @lisamartinnyc