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PANcreatic CAncer Initial Detection via liquid biopsy

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PANCAID, for PANcreatic CAncer Initial Detection via liquid biopsy, is a research consortium in #pancreaticcancer #PDAC Funded by the European Union.

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On World Cancer Research Day, we’re highlighting research that addresses different challenges in pancreatic cancer care and the importance of involving patients in the questions being asked.

Pancreatic Cancer Europe contributes to initiatives across Europe including:
🔬 PANCAID, investigating a blood test for earlier detection
🔬 DISCERN, studying factors that may contribute to pancreatic cancer
🔬 GUIDE.MRD, exploring blood tests that could help guide care after surgery
🔬 PALACROS - EU Horizon, studying and improving access to care for people with locally advanced pancreatic cancer
🔬 ResCPa, studying the safety and potential of a new CAR-T cell therapy

These projects are at different stages and take different approaches. In each, the experiences and priorities of people affected by pancreatic cancer deserve a place in the research.

Learn more: https://pancreaticcancereurope.eu/projects-and-activities/

#WorldCancerResearchDay #PancreaticCancer #CancerResearch

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🎥 Meet Mireia Andueza Peral, winner of the PCE Short-term Scientific Stay Award 2026!

In our introductory interview, Mireia discusses her research, what inspired her to apply for the award and what she hopes to achieve during her three-month stay at the Barts Cancer Institute, Queen Mary University of London.

Under the supervision of Professor Amit Roshan, Mireia is developing computational methods to integrate circulating cell-free DNA with molecular and clinical data, supporting new approaches to the early detection of pancreatic cancer.

This research stay has been made possible through funding from PCE, supporting early-career researchers in gaining valuable experience, developing new skills and strengthening international research collaboration.

Watch the full interview to learn more about Mireia and the research behind her scientific stay: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IUHEybb2hc 💜

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🎉 We are delighted to announce Mireia Andueza Peral as the winner of the PCE Short-term Scientific Stay Award 2026!

Mireia is a PhD researcher at the Spanish National Cancer Research Centre (CNIO), where she uses artificial intelligence to integrate multi-omics liquid biopsy data for the early detection of pancreatic cancer.

Today, she begins a three-month research stay at the Barts Cancer Institute, Queen Mary University of London, under the supervision of Professor Amit Roshan.

During her stay, Mireia will develop computational methods for analysing circulating cell-free DNA and integrating these data with molecular and clinical information to help improve early cancer detection.

The stay will also strengthen collaboration between the research groups involved in the PANCAID project.
Congratulations, Mireia! We look forward to following your journey and sharing updates along the way. 💜

🎥 Stay tuned, our introductory interview with Mireia will be published soon!

#PancreaticCancer #CancerResearch #EarlyDetection #PANCAID #ScientificResearch

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The Fourth of July was always your favorite weekend of the year.

You would have loved that it fell on a long weekend this year. I can picture it so clearly… you making your famous ribs, getting the pool ready, texting friends, setting up chairs in the driveway, and staying outside until way too late watching the kids run around with sparklers.

You loved everything about this weekend.

I’ve already walked through so many hard firsts without you—my birthday, Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day—and somehow this one hit me differently.

Yesterday, I could barely drive to the party we’ve gone to for years. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to go. It wasn’t because I was scared.

It was because reality punched me in the face all over again.

You’re really not going to be there.

I hadn’t felt that kind of panic in a long time. The tears just kept coming. But good friends got me through those doors, and I’m so thankful they did.

Because once we got there, me and Ava had such a beautiful night.

Watching her laugh and run around with the other kids, seeing her so vibrant and happy… it did something to my heart. She carries a strength that amazes me every single day. More than once, she looked at me and said, “It’s going to be okay, Mom. It’s going to be okay.”

And somehow, I believed her.

I’m so glad we didn’t let grief keep us home. Even when reality was hitting us hard… even when our hearts were aching for our number one guy… we still showed up.

That’s what grief is, I think.

Learning how to carry heartbreak and beautiful moments in the very same hand.

Missing you terribly while still finding reasons to smile.

And last night, I know you would have loved every second of it.

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At Pancreatic Cancer Europe, we are proud to support the PANCAID project and its efforts to make pancreatic cancer research more accessible and patient-centred.

Through its ongoing social media campaigns, PANCAID is helping to break down complex scientific concepts into clear, understandable language while also amplifying the voices of patients, advocates, researchers, and healthcare professionals.

📚 The PANCAID Glossary Campaign explores key terms related to pancreatic cancer, liquid biopsy, and data science, making research more accessible to wider audiences.

🎥 The Stakeholder Snippets series shares valuable insights and lived experiences from across the pancreatic cancer community, highlighting the importance of early detection, diagnosis, and patient-centred care.

These initiatives demonstrate the value of communication in bridging the gap between research and the people it aims to benefit.

Follow PANCAID's channels to explore the latest glossary posts and stakeholder stories: https://pancaid-project.eu/

#PANCAID #PancreaticCancer #EarlyDetection #PatientAdvocacy #CancerResearch #LiquidBiopsy #HealthLiteracy #EUResearch #PancreaticCancerEurope

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I’ve been quiet the last few days because
if I’m being honest… I’m struggling.

I think people assume grief moves in this beautiful straight line where eventually you “start doing better.” But the truth is, I don’t even know what week I’m going to get version of me anymore.

Some weeks I surprise myself. I get things done. I show up. I laugh a little. I leave the house. I think maybe I’m finally finding my footing again.

And then other weeks?
I can barely get out of bed.
I cancel plans.
I stare at my phone and can’t answer people back.
I forget important things.
I can’t focus.
I feel angry.
I feel exhausted.
I feel lonelier than I ever thought a human could feel.

The hardest part is that there are still moments my brain genuinely thinks this can’t be real. Like somehow this all has to be some horrible misunderstanding and eventually life is going to snap back into place. But it doesn’t. And that realization hits over and over and over again.

I wish I could snap my fingers and make all of this disappear. I wish I could understand why this happened to us. I wish my faith felt stronger right now, but truthfully? I’m struggling there too. Sometimes hearing God’s word makes me angry because I keep thinking… where were You when we needed You most?

That’s hard to admit out loud.
But it’s real.

I know I’m not myself right now. I know I’m stuck in a place mentally that I do not want to stay in. But I think the difference this time is that I actually recognize it. Before, I would’ve buried it. Pretended. Smiled through it. Now I can see it happening in real time.

So if I’ve disappeared a little lately… that’s why.
I’m trying.
Even on the days it doesn’t look like it.

And honestly?
Sometimes trying simply means surviving the day.

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I didn’t gain followers this weekend.
I gained stories I wish didn’t exist.

Messages from wives.
Husbands.
Families.
All living the same nightmare we just walked through.

So let’s talk facts. Not feelings.

Pancreatic cancer has a 13% five-year survival rate.
That means almost 9 out of 10 people will not make it.

Over 67,000 people will be diagnosed this year in the U.S.
Over 50,000 will die.

It is already the 3rd leading cause of cancer death
and is on track to become #2.

There is no standard early screening.

And most people are diagnosed when it’s too late…
when survival drops to 3%.

Read that again.

Three percent.

This isn’t rare.
This isn’t “bad luck.”
This is a system that is behind.

Behind in early detection.
Behind in research.
Behind in giving families a fighting chance.

Because how are we in 2026…
and THIS is still the reality?

I sat in that room.
I heard “there’s nothing we can do.”

And now my inbox is full of people hearing the same exact words.

That’s not okay.

We don’t need more awareness posts.
We need earlier detection.
We need faster action.
We need better options before it’s stage 4.

Because people are not dying from lack of strength…
they’re dying from lack of time.

And I’m not done talking about it.

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Last night was one of those nights.

The kind where your body is exhausted
but your mind refuses to shut off.
The kind where the questions get louder
the quieter everything else gets.

What if we went somewhere else?
What if we pushed harder?
What if we caught it sooner?
What if… what if… what if…

And I sat there thinking about all of it. Every decision.
Every appointment. Every moment.

But here’s the truth I keep coming back to…

There wasn’t something we missed.

Because if you knew Rob, you’d know this—
due to his family history with heart conditions,
he was more on top of his health than anyone I’ve ever seen.

He didn’t avoid doctors.
He didn’t put things off.
He went regularly.
He stayed consistent.
He followed through.

He did everything right.

So how did we not know?
How did it take 43 years to find out about a BRCA2 gene mutation that could change everything?
How did something so aggressive move so fast without a single clear warning?

That’s the part I can’t shake.

Because this isn’t just our story.
This is happening to families every single day.

And if we really are living in one of the most advanced countries in the world… then we have to ask the hard questions.

Why aren’t we catching this sooner?
Why isn’t early detection more accessible?
Why are people doing everything right… and
still finding out too late?

This isn’t about blame.
It’s about awareness. It’s about access. It’s about doing better.

Because no family should be left sitting in the dark, replaying every “what if” when they did everything they were supposed to do.

I know I couldn’t have done anything differently.
I know Rob couldn’t have either.

But I also know this…

I’m not going to stay quiet about it.

If his story can push even one conversation forward, one test earlier, one life saved… then we keep going.

Even on the nights that feel impossibly long.

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Today we celebrate your life… and somehow the world just keeps moving like nothing shattered.

I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from this.
Like this is some nightmare I haven’t fully come out of yet.
But every time it hits again… it hits harder.

There’s a version of my grief today that
I don’t even know how to explain out loud.

It’s not just crying.
It’s not just sadness.
It’s not even the kind of pain I
can point to and name.

It’s the kind that makes my chest feel
hollow and heavy at the same time.
The kind that makes everything around me feel loud…
while I feel completely numb.
The kind that has my heart in a million
different places all at once —
with him, with Ava, with our memories,
with everything we thought we had time for.

One second I’m okay enough to stand there…
and the next I feel like I’m going to collapse inside
my own body.

I don’t recognize my mind right now.
I don’t recognize this version of me that
has to learn how to exist without you.

Today isn’t just a goodbye.
It’s the start of a life I never wanted.

And that’s the part that hurts the most.

Because you weren’t just my husband…
you were my safe place.
My calm.
My best friend.
The one who made everything feel lighter.

Now everything feels… heavy.

But today, through all of it…
we honor you.

Your life.
Your love.
Your laugh.
The way you showed up for everyone around you.
The way you loved us so big, so loud, and so fully.

I don’t know how I’m going to do this without you…
but I do know one thing —

I will carry you in everything I do.

Every step.
Every breath.
Every moment.

And somehow…
I’ll find a way to keep going.

Because that’s what you would want.

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Thank you doesn’t even feel like a big enough word right now.

To everyone who took the time to send a message, drop off flowers, leave something on my porch, or just think of me… I felt every bit of it. You made me feel so loved, so seen, and honestly like one spoiled girl in a moment where I didn’t know how this day was going to feel.

And to Moda Beauty Bar @moda_beautybar, Hannah @hanna_modamuse and your entire team… thank you for giving me such a beautiful, peaceful start to my day. Being there always feels like a second home to me, and this morning was exactly what my heart needed. Sitting with you girls, laughing, catching up… it reminded me that there is still light in a day like this.

I felt Rob so many times today. Especially on our way to school… he knows that’s one of my favorite parts of the day. Just me and Ava, music on, starting our morning together. I could feel him there, like he always was.

This whole week, I’ve had signs. Real ones. The kind you can’t ignore even if you tried. And I’m starting to understand something through all of this grief… I have to let myself be vulnerable enough to see them. To feel them. To believe them. Not push them away because it hurts, but lean into them because it’s him.

And Timehop… man, it hits different now. But what I love about it is this. Memories like these remind me that my guy loved me in a way that shaped my entire life. He paved paths for me before I even knew I’d need them. He helped me become who I am. He broke generational cycles, took away my fears, built my confidence, and loved me in a way that made me feel beautiful every single day.

That kind of love doesn’t just disappear. It lives in me now.

So if I’m being really honest… I’m learning that I don’t want to live in the dark spaces. I don’t want to stay stuck in the fear. I want to keep moving toward the things he believed I was capable of. I want to be better because of him. For him.

And today, because of all of you, I felt strong enough to take a step in that direction.

Thank you for loving me the way you do.

Miss you babe 💜🕊️🫶

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Cancer doesn’t just attack a body.
It steals pieces of a life.

It steals futures.
Plans that were supposed to happen.
Trips you talked about taking.
Random Tuesday nights that were supposed to feel ordinary.

It steals voices, laughter, routines, and the quiet little moments you never realized were sacred until they start to change.

It sneaks in quietly.
And before you fully understand what’s happening, it has already taken more than you ever imagined you could lose.

It steals normalcy.
The comfort of believing tomorrow will look the same as today.
The simple routines that once felt automatic.

It changes you too.

The version of you that existed before hospital rooms.
Before long nights.
Before waiting on test results and medications and doctors walking through the door.

Before learning how to live with fear and love in the exact same moment.

Cancer teaches you something most people never truly understand.

Time is fragile.
Life is unpredictable.
And love becomes louder than anything else.

But even in the middle of all of this… hope still lives here.

So many parts of me still believe in miracles.

Please keep praying for Rob.
Please keep praying for that miracle. 💜

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Yesterday we met with Rob’s new oncologist, and for the first time in a while, we left feeling relief.

His bedside manner is completely different. He was thorough. Informative. He took his time. It felt collaborative. It felt thoughtful. And when you’re navigating something this heavy, that kind of care matters more than I can explain.

After reviewing everything, he believes Rob may have become resistant to FOLFIRINOX, which could explain why we haven’t seen the progress we hoped for. Instead of continuing something that may no longer be effective, he wants to pivot.

The new plan is Gemcitabine (Gemzar), an IV chemotherapy commonly used for advanced pancreatic cancer. It works differently than FOLFIRINOX and targets the cancer in another way — a fresh strategy instead of forcing something that may have run its course.

We’ll likely begin Monday or Tuesday while Rob is still in the hospital so they can monitor him closely as he starts. That extra layer of safety brings me peace. The plan moving forward will be three weeks on, one week off, and no pump at home.

But beyond the chemo names and treatment shifts, what stays constant is who Rob is.

You know when you marry someone and you just know he’s going to be a great dad? That steady, protective, selfless kind of man? That’s Rob. And even now — in the middle of hospital days and hard conversations — he is still thinking about me and Ava before himself.

He asks if we’ve eaten. He tells Ava he’s proud of her. He checks on me. He worries about how we’re handling this. He carries us emotionally even when his body is exhausted.

I am so unbelievably proud of him. The way he’s fighting. The way he shows up. The way he refuses to let this steal his tenderness, his humor, his role as a husband and dad.

This season is hard. But watching him love us through it? That part is unwavering.

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