The cycle is continuous. It has no real beginning or end. When Richard Bloom, a 43- year-old resident of Hooksett wakes up, reprisal sets itself in motion once again, leaving him to ponder how much longer he has. It goes beyond the 18 medications he must take daily and the chronic pain he suffers through. It involves a rigorous fight to defy the odds and perhaps become an anomaly in the medical world: The first person to survive pancreatic cancer. And while Bloom is approaching four years in April, nobody has made it past seven, a startling fact he came to terms with long ago.

“My entire life revolves around my medication schedule, food, diabetes and hypoglycemia. All my friends have abandoned me because they have their jobs and families. When I started getting sick, people disappeared left and right,” said Bloom.

It wasn’t always like this for Bloom. In fact, it’s a dramatic change from the robust and upbeat life he used to lead. As a high-caliber car salesman in his 20s, he would often enjoy himself by riding his motorcycle and fishing. The hobbies he once immersed himself in, though, are now things of the past, as the world he once knew was shattered by the news he received back in the summer of 1996.

It began when he started missing a few days of work, due to being fatigued. After visiting with his doctor, he found out his liver enzyme count was elevated.

It was confusing news for Bloom, a man who barely drank and was in relatively good health. After more testing was done, it was discovered that he had Hepatitis C, catching him completely off guard.

“I went in to see my doctor and he told me you have Hepatitis C. I didn’t know what Hepatitis A, B or C was. He told me, ‘You’re one of the first tested for it,’” said Bloom.

The doctors were able to trace the origin of Hepatitis C back to a blood transfusion Bloom received when he was 16. After attempting a stunt on his motorcycle, he hit his shoulder and broke it open. However, hospitals weren’t checking for Hepatitis C back then. Bloom’s initial reaction was to be relieved. It wasn’t all in his head. It would be treatable and a return to normalcy was in sight.

He started undergoing the treatment, which required three interferon shots a day and had side effects such as sweating, muscle aches and vomiting that could last up to 18 hours.

After three months, a test concluded the Hepatitis C was inert but treatment continued for almost a year to ensure it remained that way. After he stopped the injections, he found out he had permanent nerve damage in his body and was diagnosed with chronic fatigue. He applied for disability and knew a return to work was unlikely.

For the next three years, things remained as they were and Bloom adjusted to his new lifestyle. But in 2001, the “game changer,” as Bloom refers to it, altered his perspective significantly. He suffered an acute ischemic stroke in the brain and part of his brain became nonfunctional, due to a blocked artery. Depression set in and he wondered how long the misery would last.

“I said to myself, ‘It can be like this for my entire life.’”

But it wasn’t. Over the next three years the rehabilitation resulted in a 95 percent recovery. He sold his house and some possessions, downsizing to a town house to cut down on costs and for easier maintenance.

A year later, however, Bloom felt chest pains and after going to two different hospitals, they found a tear in the wall separating chambers of the heart, roughly three-fourths of an inch. He was rushed to Massachusetts General and after a three-hour surgery, doctors managed to sew up the tear.

“What’s funny is that anytime a black-and-white X-ray is done, you can see my heart because it looks like a chain-link fence. You can never tell what life is going to throw at you.”

The next two years were filled with joy for Bloom. He went skiing, took a trip to Florida, and started thinking about going back to work. That vision changed when he suddenly experienced sharp pains in his stomach. It became a recurring theme and Bloom was hospitalized off and on. The hospital and his primary care physician accused him of abusing the system, suggesting he was a hypochondriac.

After he went to Dartmouth in Lebanon, they found out that the fabrication was actually islet cell tumors in his stomach. Doctors urged Bloom to undergo surgery, which involved taking out his gall bladder, removing the head of the pancreas, disabling the valves in the pancreas and liver, changing the location of the pancreas by moving it next to the spleen, removing 60 percent of the stomach, taking out the duodenum and repositioning the jejunum junction so that the common bile duct could go into it.

Bloom feels it’s a miracle that he made it this far. “This is the most invasive procedure a person can go through. Fifty percent of people who have undergone this surgery die in the next 18 to 24 months. All of the doctors are stumped as to how I’m still living.”

The complications resulting from this, however, have been severe. His autonomic system, which regulates involuntary functions such as breathing, the pumping of blood and more, no longer works properly, impacting how he operates. Also, because of all the shifting around and removal of organs that was required of the surgery, he is now diabetic and hypoglycemic.

As the bills mounted and his support system of friends shrunk, Bloom tried contacting Eileen Ehlers, a former state representative who was serving at the time. After hearing his story and exploring the options, she discovered there were no gray areas and couldn’t provide much help, as he was just barely over the poverty line.

“People are slipping through the cracks. Regulations are strict. I thought with all the safety nets out there, he’d be able to find some help. This is an in-your-face example of what Americans are going through. I think there are people in this town who would help if they knew,” said Ehlers.

Bloom goes once a week to Massachusetts General to consult with his doctors and go through testing and has found the drive to be more exhausting each time he undertakes it.

Ehlers’ husband, Bob, offered recently to drive him in one day to help out but can’t take the time off regularly from work. The Ehlers are hoping that people can possibly donate their time and services to help Bloom out.

“Driving to Boston for examinations, diagnostic tests and procedures can be very taxing for him. Without help he may not be able to drive back to Hooksett.

Helping Richard is not a fulltime job. If several people volunteer, it means that it could come down to just one trip to Boston a year or a couple of phone calls a month just to say hello,” said Bob Ehlers.

Anyone who is interested in helping Bloom may call 485- 3180.