Dr. Taylor Riall has spent her career caring for patients with pancreatic disease. As a surgeon, mentor, and researcher, she is known for her compassion and deep respect for the people she treats. But when she herself became a patient in 2021, her outlook shifted in ways that changed how she practices medicine, mentors others, and approaches life.
Finding My Calling and Specialty
I’ve always wanted to be a doctor, but no one in my family was a physician. My dad went to college, but medicine wasn’t something I really understood growing up, it was just what I wanted to do. I didn’t even really know what it meant to be a doctor.
I graduated from Rutgers University in just three years, and completed medical school and residency at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. My first clinical rotation was in obstetrics and gynecology — it was rough. I remember thinking, “Did I make a mistake going to medical school?” Luckily, my next rotation in pediatrics changed my perspective as it was the complete opposite. Everyone was so kind and supportive. I thought, “Okay, I can do this. Maybe I’ll be a pediatrician.” Then I remembered that I don’t really like kids… or parents.
It wasn’t until my next rotation in surgery that everything clicked. It was the middle of the night, a patient with a gunshot wound to the leg. The surgeon repaired the femoral artery and then let me close the skin. I thought, “This is the greatest thing ever.” That’s when I knew I wanted to be a surgeon.
At the time, surgery was an overwhelmingly male-dominated field. People would ask, “Are you sure you want to be a surgeon? Don’t you want to stay home and have babies?” I didn’t even have a boyfriend, so that wasn’t exactly a pressing concern. I never got overly sensitive about it because most people weren’t trying to be discriminatory; they just didn’t know anything different, as it was a different time. The Chair at Johns Hopkins, Dr. John Cameron, was incredibly supportive throughout my career. He and my mentors at Hopkins inspired me to be a pancreatic surgeon. At the time they were performing more pancreatic surgeries than anyone else in the country. I probably saw more Whipple procedures than appendectomies. As a resident, you’re so influenced by your mentors, and all of mine were pancreatic surgeons. It just became what I knew – and what I loved. I remember one piece of advice that stuck with me – Dr. Tom DeMeester once told me, “You need to be good at the 90%-the common diseases- but really great at one of the 10%.” For me, that was the pancreas. The pancreas is challenging, different every time, and I find it incredibly rewarding.
Medical school was a blur for me. A piece of advice I would give to those wanting to go into medicine is don’t rush through life. Whether it’s college, medical school, or residency, don’t rush through life. We’re always saying, “It’ll get better when I get into med school…when I finish residency…when I get my first job.” But it doesn’t get better – it just get’s different. There is no finish line. Once you finish one thing, you’re already striving for the next. So enjoy where you are. You’re only a Resident once, a medical student once. There’s something special to take away from every stage.
From Surgeon to Patient: On Empathy, Resilience, and Redefining Care
In 2021, life turned unexpectedly. After six months of coughing, repeated tests, and treatment for what doctors told me was Valley Fever, I was diagnosed with lung cancer – this came as a shock as I had always lived a healthy lifestyle. I was a non-smoker and an active 49-year-old surgeon. I figured I would have to start smoking and drinking, as clearly my current lifestyle wasn’t working.
They missed my diagnosis initially. My advice to patients is to trust your instincts. I knew my body well enough to recognize that something wasn’t right with the Valley Fever diagnosis. They kept reassuring me, but my instincts told me something else. I also encourage my patients to get a second opinion. Even if I’m the one they’ve seen initially. My patients deserve to feel confident in their care. Some patients are afraid their doctors will be offended, but good doctors want what is best for their patients. This isn’t about ego – it’s about your life. For me, getting a second opinion did feel weird, but it saved my life when I finally received the lung cancer diagnosis.
During my first surgery, surgeons removed the upper lobe of my left lung. This was supposed to be a smooth, minimally invasive procedure, but complications quickly changed that plan. I lost a significant amount of blood and needed a second chest tube. I felt like a shell of the person I was. I am not patient and probably went back to work way too soon, but slowly and steadily recovered. Fortunately, my cancer was caught early (stage IA2). Initially, I found it
hard to focus on good news when my body and spirit felt so far from “normal.” But I gave myself the space to focus on my own recovery and allowed myself to fully experience everything I was feeling.
My personality is such that I dive in, and with this I told myself, “I’m going to exercise every day. I’m going to get my strength back.” And I did. I recurred in 2023 and required a second operation, followed by targeted chemotherapy. While I have continued to work, chemotherapy has its side effects. Mine are painful muscle cramps and fatigue, which can lead to frustration. I’ve had to reset my expectations. I can’t run marathons anymore, but I can run some, ride my Peloton, do strength training, and walk the dogs. I’ve shifted my focus to what I can do to feel healthy right now. It’s not the same as five years ago – and that’s okay. The chemo is working, and I can live with the muscle cramps. I try not to think about it all the time as it doesn’t really help me. Through all of this, I am grateful to my colleagues and friends for their support. I don’t know how people do it without that. I’m lucky to have amazing people around me.
Seeing Medicine from the Other Side
The years of training and medical expertise didn’t fully prepare me for what it would feel like to sit on the other side of the exam table. In some ways it made me a better doctor. But it also made things harder. I’ve always connected deeply with my patients, but now I feel their struggles even more. That empathy can be draining and I remind myself—it’s not my fault they have pancreatic cancer, I didn’t create their disease process. It’s not my fault, it’s hard to treat. My job is to support, to listen, and to guide them. But I can’t own what I can’t control.
I now know what it’s like to navigate the healthcare system as a cancer patient, and I often go above and beyond to help patients navigate a system that feels stacked against them. I will joke that I am the “triage nurse” and GI coordinator for all of Tucson, but I can’t let them get lost in the system. Even if it means doing things that technically aren’t my job. It comes at a personal cost, but it’s the right thing to do. I want to be an advocate for my patients. Patients are so thankful for someone who truly listens and that’s what keeps me from feeling drained.
Redefining Balance and Career Purpose
After decades in medicine, I think more now about what I want the rest of my life to look like. I love what I do – but I also love my family. I want to spend time with them. Since my diagnosis, I’m more selective about what I take on. I say no to things that don’t matter as much. The hardest decision for me is whether to keep doing chemo – it wears me out. But I talk often with my thoracic surgeon, and he understands.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve also redirected my research focus toward improving the patient experience. My past research has been good, but I started to ask myself, “Have I really made anyone’s care better?” Now, I want to improve what patients actually go through and help them navigate their cancer care. Based on our research and the needs of our patients, we’re starting peer mentorship programs and involving psychologists more often. I want patients to feel supported beyond surgery. At this point in my career, I don’t want to write more papers, I want to make an impact on the patients that I see.
Paying it Forward Through Mentorship
For me, mentorship isn’t an obligation — it’s one of my career purposes. My whole career has been about elevating others. When you become a division chief or chair, it’s not about you anymore — it’s about them. I’ve had mentors who gave me opportunities, and I want to do the same. I know that in the field of research it can be very individualistic, but I encourage researchers to collaborate, rather than compete. There’s room for everyone. We’ll make the biggest difference when we share what works and not hold our resources so tight — because, at the end of the day, it’s all about the patients.
Focusing on Joy
There are so many things that bring me joy. Both my husband’s sense of humor and my dogs (Winston and Dakota) bring me a lot of peace and happiness. I try not to miss the sunset in all the noise. It’s nice to wake up every day, and it’s just nice to know that I have friends and support around me. Not every day is good, but there’s something good in every day.
Even with my muscle cramps and fatigue, I still continue to run, exercise, ballroom dance and travel (I recently went on a trip to
Greece with my Mom), and I dream of running the London Marathon one day. Maybe when I’m off chemo, I’ll do it. For now, I’m just doing the best I can – and that’s enough.
