How It Began (2016)

​As I have mentioned before on this blog, there is very little I can remember from 2016, the year that Kim was first diagnosed and treated for cancer. I suppose this is due to the shock of it all and being overwhelmed with this whole new experience. Other than our wall calendar scribbled over with appointment times and some rough notes in a notebook, I have no recorded account of how Kim’s first cancer experience unfolded. But from the scribbled notes and studying old calendars that Kim kept in a cardboard box, a rough time frame has begun to take shape in my memory.
 
In the beginning, maybe like most cancer diagnoses, I remember the excuses we made for how Kim was feeling. She was in her early 30’s; who is thinking about cancer in their early thirties? It was more than a year out, maybe more like two or three, when Kim began talking about and quietly complaining about changes in her gastrointestinal system. She saw her doctor, and it was chalked up to irritable bowel syndrome. This made perfect sense as it was not unheard of, and Kim had always been a bit irregular. However, as the seasons passed into years, and the symptoms of slight pain and constipation slowly progressed over time, a mild concern began to grow. By the beginning of 2016, her pain and now almost constant constipation were joined by a much more alarming symptom of abdominal swelling. By late winter 2015/16, it looked like Kim was in the early months of pregnancy.
 
Throughout the previous year, Kim had been sent for imaging and bloodwork, all showing normal results. However, a CT scan in Feb 2016 clearly showed that her reproductive organs had now joined the cause for concern. This imaging actually shifted any focus we had on her bowels or colon and placed it squarely on her ovaries, as the imaging showed what might be a rather large cyst on one of them. Whether it was a cyst or her actual ovary that was swelling couldn’t be said for certain, but there was clearly a pocket of fluid growing there. Throughout the months of March and April her ovary began filling at an exceptional speed. By early March, Kim was having trouble going for long walks. By mid-month it was visible to most people that she had gained a lot of weight. We were put on a waitlist to see an oncologist specializing in ovarian cancer, as this was the working hypothesis of what was potentially going on.
 
By the third week of April we had already made three trips to the local Emergency Room in Surrey, as Kim’s pain was becoming unmanageable. It was at one of these visits we were referred to an oncologist as a precautionary measure, but the appointment would most likely not be for another month. This was unacceptable based on how large Kim’s abdomen was getting. Each time we arrived at the ER we spent hours waiting, only to be sent home with a prescription for pain meds but not much else. Kim was now suffering due to the pain, constipation and obvious weight she was carrying around in her belly, looking eight months pregnant by the end of April.
 
I graduated from Regent College on April 29, 2016, with my Masters of Divinity. I remember, distinctly, walking across the stage of the Chan Centre at UBC in my cap and gown, receiving my degree, and looking out over the audience. I knew that Kim was so proud of the five-years of work I had put in, but as I looked, I distinctly remember seeing her sitting beside my parents, doubled over in pain, barely able to look up to see me walk. When I met them after the ceremony in the reception area, my parents were standing beside a staircase with Kim seated on the stairs, not able to stand for more than a couple minutes. We quickly made our exit home.
 
As we had learned though my own health struggles, navigating the health-care system is not always as orderly as we’d expect or like. We had learned many years before that though it’s a public health care system, it is also “every man for themselves,” and the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
Kim had a coworker, who had a family member, who had a friend who was gyno-oncologist. His office was an hour away from where we lived. Within days of our last ER visit, and a few days after my graduation ceremony, he made time to see Kim. He hinted that yes, this could be some kind of cancer, probably ovarian, but that ovarian cancer is often treatable and had good survival rates.
The most important thing about this visit, however, was that this doctor had privilege’s in the main metro-Vancouver hospital that we wanted to get Kim into.  This meant the next time Kim needed the ER because of pain, we could skip the local hospital and go straight to VGH. We didn’t need to wait long to punch this ticket. The following Sunday morning, just three days after seeing him, Kim was unable to stand or sit due to her pain and her massively swollen abdomen. I had responsibilities in church that morning as an associate pastor, and so we called Kim’s parents who took her to the ER. I followed soon after.
 
I don’t remember much at all about that day, other than that it was made clear to us right away in the ER, before I even got the hospital, that Kim was not going home anytime soon, and that surgery was going to be a top and urgent priority. The VGH team did not like that they were seeing at all. They were able to quickly get Kim’s acute pain under control, but she was still very uncomfortable. 
 
They got her down for surgery two days later, on Tuesday May 10th. We liked her gyno-oncological surgeon, someone extremely competent who was admittedly rough around the edges and brash, but someone after Kim’s own heart. Bedside manner be damned, she knew what she was doing and that, in our opinion, was the hand we wanted at the scalpel.