Our Destiny Is Not in the Data

Yann Bizien

• Recurring stomach pain led to diagnosis
• Chemo, then maintenance chemo
• Recurrence, followed by chemo, a Whipple, and more chemo
• Helping research to understand supersurvivors

My journey, like yours, began with discouraging statistics—the kind that can truly leave you hopeless.

In 2017, at just 35, my initial, recurring stomach pain was dismissed and treated with simple medicine. But when it came back, an abdominal ultrasound revealed spots on my liver.

Beyond the Statistics: Our Blueprint for Survival

This led me to a gastroenterologist who planned a gastroscopy (upper endoscopy). However, time ran out. The tumor on the head of my pancreas was growing so fast that my duodenum was severely compressed. I could not eat. I landed in the emergency room at Hospital Mignot, Versailles (near Paris), facing the chilling, official diagnosis: stage IV pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma (PDAC).

The Power of “I Will Not Give Up”

The immediate question from my oncologist was harrowing: start chemo right now while you can’t eat, or perform surgery to restore eating ability and delay chemo? We opted to start with the gastrojejunostomy (a surgical procedure that connects the stomach directly to the small intestine while bypassing the duodenum), and a few weeks later, the grueling fight with FOLFIRINOX began. Like many patients, I battled against the strong side effects we all know: deep fatigue, relentless nausea, neuropathy, weight loss, and pain.

After six rounds, my doctor began a conversation I will never forget. “Yann, the images are not showing good results. What do we do? Do you want to continue anyway?”

My daughter was four. Giving up was not an option. “I felt an improvement in my body,” I told them. My intuition and my will were stronger than the scans. I insisted that we continue the treatment. From that day forward, the tide turned. A good response finally appeared on the blood tests and the CT scans. The tumor on the pancreas became invisible, and the five metastases on the liver reduced to millimeters and became stagnant.

I entered a period of stability—a remission maintained on a lighter chemo regimen—that lasted incredibly until the end of 2021. The routine was so steady that I often questioned, am I allowed to have projects now? To truly heal? I answered those questions by having a second child—the ultimate act of taking control and daring to live fully.

Hitting Rock Bottom (Again) and Rising Up Through a Whipple

The disease tried to reclaim its territory in late 2021. The familiar, dreadful pain in my pancreas returned, awakening me in the night. My biomarkers went up, and the images confirmed a relapse. By this time my whole oncology team moved from Mignot Hospital to Hospital Foch (near Paris, France), and I decided to follow them.

But here’s where resilience changed the game. During a multidisciplinary meeting, a surgeon unexpectedly proposed a Whipple procedure. This was a profound surprise, as I had been told throughout my journey that I was not eligible for surgery. Yet, the moment I met the surgeon, I was convinced that it was worth a shot.  It was the only way to significantly increase the probability of a cure.

The surgery was preceded by six rounds of chemo. I then had the Whipple in the summer of 2022 at Hospital Foch. It went well, and the biopsy confirmed the absence of cancer cells on the pancreas and on the liver.

Once I recovered, I had six more rounds of chemo—the hardest rounds of my life. I couldn’t even take the last one. I hit rock bottom emotionally and physically. The return home was grueling. Side effects of the chemo were amplified by the surgery recovery. But then, the recovery took hold, and I was fully healed. I continue to do my follow-up  at Hospital Foch.

Now, I am a happy father of two girls, ages 12 and five, living in a beautiful place near Paris (Le Vésinet). I dedicate my time to cancer research (at Cure51), do sports (10K foot and bike races), and I actively share hope with other patients and their relatives.

Our Destiny Is Not in the Data

My personal battle—from stage IV PDAC to Whipple surgery and supersurvivor status—set me on a scientific mission. I am living proof that statistics are not our destiny.

Now, I channel my experience into a patient advisory role on the Exceptional Voices Committee at Cure51. As my oncologist explained to me, Cure51 is a biotech company leading the ROSALIND study. Our mission is to understand survival among the most aggressive cancers by comparing long-term survivors like us with those who did not survive. Specifically, for metastatic PDAC, we are seeking those who have survived more than five years after diagnosis.

We are building a global network of 100 participating cancer centers to collect vital data: medical history, blood tests, CT scans, and, critically, tumor samples. We will be focusing on partnerships with major U.S. cancer centers in 2026.

My role is to grow a community, share a message of hope, and connect us—the patients—directly with researchers through conferences, webinars, and international oncology projects.