I’m a Prostate Cancer Survivor Who Lives With Pancreatitis — but I Don’t Let That Slow Down My Passion for Travel

For Travel + Leisure’s column Traveling As, we’re talking to travelers about what it’s like to explore the world through their unique perspectives. We talked to Michael Cohen, who works for Disney Theatrical Group. On top of traveling with acute pancreatitis, he also recently faced a prostate cancer diagnosis. But he never let his medical challenges stop him from seeing the world. Here’s his story…

Growing up on Long Island, I was sheltered most of my life. We traveled when I was a kid — mainly to the Caribbean, Puerto Rico, and the Bahamas. When I was in high school, a friend was studying abroad in London, and I went to visit her. It really opened my eyes to life beyond Greenlawn, New York, and the trips I took with my family. 

It wasn’t until many years later, after graduating college, that I had the opportunity to travel internationally again, and since then, I haven’t been able to stop.

But out of the blue in 1998, I had the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt. I went to the emergency room and was diagnosed with acute pancreatitis. I didn’t know what that was, but my brother was in medical school at the time, and explained it’s an inflammation of the pancreas. The pain, he told me, stems from the pancreas swelling and dumping out amylase and lipase into the bloodstream. The only way to rectify it is to not engage with your digestive system. So no eating or drinking, and you’re put on an IV to prevent dehydration.

That was my first pancreatitis attack. I’ve been hospitalized nearly 15 times since then. My acute pancreatitis is idiopathic, meaning there’s no known cause for my random attacks. I don’t feel them coming on; it’s like a ticking time bomb.

I control my diet with low-fat foods and avoid saturated fats. I don’t drink hard alcohol, either. I have wine now and again — one of my great joys in life — but it doesn’t seem to be the root of the issue.

In December 2015, I went on a cruise with my best friend, Moni Veluz, and two couples. It was Christmas Eve, we were having dinner, and I was feeling great. The next morning, we were in Cartagena and I started to feel a little off. Moni was taking off on an excursion alone, so I went with one of the women on a horse and buggy ride through the Old Town. As we were bumping up and down on the cobblestone streets, I was in so much pain. I left her there and ran as I saw a taxi. 

I went back to the ship’s infirmary. I thought, if this is a pancreatitis attack, I’ll stay here and avoid eating for a few days. But the ship’s doctor said, “No, the stewards are packing up your cabin as we speak and we’re sending you to a clinic right away.”

I started bawling. I didn’t speak the language, and I couldn’t reach my best friend because it was 2015 and we still relied on Wi-Fi internationally. So, I called my family and let them know what was going on. I was put into a VW bug version of an ambulance.

A while later, my phone started buzzing with text messages from Moni, who had boarded the ship. The good news was the Norwegian Cruise Line ship we were on knew to call a couple from California who lived in Cartagena and ran a nonprofit. They met me at the clinic and were able to help with translations. This couple graciously gives up their time when there’s a sick passenger not from the region. They came every day to be by my side and helped me get through it.

I ended up staying at the clinic for a week. When I get pancreatitis attacks, the amylase and lipase levels typically come down quickly, but not this time. The average is about four to five nights, with the longest being six nights when it happened on my birthday two years ago. 

There’s no indication an attack is about to come on. I could be fine during the day and wake up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain. I try to put the idea out of my head, and do my best to stay on top of my diet and not give my body a reason for it to occur. But it’s going to happen for the rest of my life. 

If I’m traveling domestically and it occurs, it’s manageable, but I’m more thoughtful about going abroad. I research hospitals and consider the destination’s medical facilities. A couple years ago, I went to a remote island in the Philippines, so I had to look up a MedEvac, in case I needed it. People have passed away from pancreatitis — it’s not without its hazards — but I try not to scare myself.

But I have to travel — it’s my passion. We can’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, so I stay informed. I try not to travel alone anymore. I’ve even paid for friends who don’t have the resources to come with me, just so I have that level of comfort level of having someone there. 

Separately, right before the pandemic hit in February 2020, my general practitioner began noticing my prostate-specific antigen (PSA) levels were increasing. That’s an indicator for prostate cancer, or an enlarged prostates. He encouraged me to see a urologist and get a biopsy because of the risk of cancer. 

Of course the pandemic hit, so I wasn’t able to get one until winter of that year. While I was waiting for the results, I got a call that they messed up the slides and conducted the wrong tests, so there was nothing conclusive. You have to space biopsies apart as it’s risky in terms of infection, so I waited. It ended up being 2022 when I had the second biopsy. I had a trip to Madrid planned two days later, so I few to Spain and got the results while in my hotel room.

I opened it, but wasn’t sure what the information meant. I sent the results to my brother, who called and told me to sit down. He said it looked like cancer. That night, my brother, the urologist, and I spoke on Zoom. The doctor said there was no immediate rush, but it’s intermediate cancer, so I got my work done in a day and flew back early. 

I had to decide between a radical prostatectomy, which means taking out the whole organ, and radiation. The doctor told me it wasn’t common for someone in their early 50s to get prostate cancer, at least not at this grade level. I eventually decided on a radical prostatectomy in March 2023. This involved an oral medication, and after the surgery, once healed, other types of therapies. Plus, I needed injections in a very sensitive area at least three times a week.

After a certain amount of time, my body still was not responding to the treatment. That’s when I got diagnosed with a condition called venous leak. The only solution was to consider an implant, a prosthesis. It took a while for me to wrap my head around this idea. Finally, I said, I’m young, and I want to feel as normal as I can, so I decided to get the surgery. 

A week before the date, my dad died. I took the time to grieve and pushed the surgery by a week. This turned out to be even more painful, with a longer recovery period than the cancer surgery. I couldn’t walk around, I couldn’t do anything. I was in pain every day for more than two months.

In the midst of this, I had been planning a five-city, two-week trip to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Disney on Broadway. Three days before departure, I was doubting if I could travel, but my wonderful boss helped me make it work. 

It turned out to be a complete catharsis for me — every step of the way, even just getting into the car to JFK, landing in each city, and our robust schedules. I brought comfortable clothes to help with any discomfort and sat down as much as I could. 

I was traveling with a great group of people, including Michael James Scott, who plays Genie in Disney’s Aladdin on Broadway, as well as my colleagues at Disney Theatrical Group and Good Morning America. We met international actors in all our productions in Paris, London, Hamburg, Tokyo, and Madrid.

But those moments in between were such a treat, too. I experienced the culture through food, wine, and shopping. At the end, I even took an extra week to travel in Japan. That gave me confidence that I could get back to traveling for myself.

I’m finally on the other side of it, and have been cancer-free since the radical prostatectomy. Things are getting back to normal with the prosthesis. Now, I go for blood work every six months to check my PSA levels.

This is life. We all have obstacles. Relatively speaking, what I’ve gone through is manageable. There are others who face serious challenges that prevent them from traveling entirely. I have enormous empathy and am inspired by them.

I know I’m privileged beyond belief, and I’m grateful to have these travel experiences while I’m young and mobile. When you have health scares, the question of whether you can get out into the world again pops into your head. I feel like I can breathe in the most cathartic way when I’m abroad — that’s where my heart is.