Kim's PET/CT Experience (Part 3 of 3)

“Someone, somewhere knows something.” This was the phrase that Kim and I said as we walked out of the Vancouver Cancer Centre in Sept. 2018 following her third scan (see previous post if you haven’t read it yet). Kim had undergone three months of chemo by this time, and the potential surgery we were placing our hope in was dependent on what this scan would show.  If the scan revealed that the chemo was doing its job in shrinking Kim’s cancer, then surgery would be a go.
When the results came a week later, we were overjoyed. Indeed, the chemo was being effective, and surgery was scheduled for Feb. 2019, after Kim had completed all six months of chemo and recovered her strength.

What followed the results of this scan, however, were some of the darkest days of Kim’s cancer journey. I only recently, for the first time, read some of the writings I made during that fall of 2018. At that time, I wrote about how difficult this second series of chemo treatments was on Kim, and also the difficulty and stress it put on each of us. 
 
We did get through it, though. In December 2018, Kim finished her final round of chemo. In 2016 and 2018 combined, Kim suffered through 12 months of chemo, a total of 24 treatments, each treatment lasting at least 3 hours in the chemo clinic, plus another 48 hours of long-infused chemo treatments at home. Kim was so strong throughout all her treatments, persevering when all she wanted to do was stop. A true testament to her character.
 
With the completion of her final chemo at the end of 2018, her fourth PET/CT Scan was booked for mid January 2019. This scan was not so much for us, but it would serve as the final map of Kim’s abdomen for the two surgeons who would be operating on Kim in February of that year. For Kim and me, the scan felt quite passive. The results didn’t matter so much to us; the surgery was booked, and this scan was for the benefit of the surgeons.
The surgery would be an all-day, very intense affair. The surgeons would begin by opening Kim’s abdomen and slowly, methodically, scrape and cut away all the cancer they could find. That fourth PET Scan that Kim had would show them where to look and how far into each organ they would need to cut, if not outright remove. Once the removal of all visible cancer was complete, they would do what we called a hot-chemo-bath. They would insert a tube in one part of her abdomen, and another tube in another part. They would then close her up. One tube would pump hot-chemo into her abdominal cavity, while the other tube would slowly suck it out. The chemo would cycle through her abdominal cavity, thus bathing all her organs and tissue, seeking to kill any remaining cancer cells in the area.
 
After surgery, Kim was once again declared to be in remission. Her bloodwork returned to normal, and no cancer could be detected in her body. Kim had fully recovered from her surgery by April 2019, and we had a wonderful year ahead. Kim returned to full-time work at Elim Village, and I as pastor of Bridge Community Church in Langley.
 
And then it all changed. In Spring 2020, Kim began complaining about sciatica pain. She had had two clear CT scans since her surgery, so we comforted ourselves by saying that maybe this was just her sciatica acting up. However, a third routine follow-up CT in early summer showed signs that all was not well in Kim’s body. By the time August 2020 hit, and Kim was sliding for the fifth time into a PET/CT Scanner, it had already been confirmed through x-rays, CT’s, and bloodwork, not to mention the increasing pain Kim was in, that the cancer was back. On the day of her fifth and final scan, we felt utterly defeated.     
 
Kim had made up her mind, already at the end of 2018,  that she was done with chemo. By the time of her scan in August 2020, we also knew that any further surgery was not an option. The surgeons had performed all the heroics they could for Kim.  This fifth scan was therefore not so much a first step in making treatment decisions as a final step in helping Kim make her final decision. The one time we did not want this most definitive scan to spit out its report, it did so nonetheless. This final PET/CT Scan showed that the cancer had spread throughout much of Kim’s body–abdomen, lungs, groin, and back. It showed it pushing up against the nerves in her back and also against her digestive tract. Our oncologist did her job, gave us trial treatment options, but we knew what the scan said.
With the help of that final PET/CT Scan, Kim decided that her time on this earth was now coming to an end. She opted out of any further treatment.
 
PET/CT Scanners are the best we have in imaging technology. These scanners provide answers in the midst of confusion, as we experienced early on with Kim’s cancer in 2016, when we had to make important decisions about her treatment regimen, and to get a baseline idea of where her cancer was. Her second scan, in 2018, told us that Kim had to get back on chemo to give her the best chance at surgery and a potentially healthy future. The scans provide comfort and assurance that treatment is working, as we experienced in Sept. 2018, and that next steps on the path to treating the cancer can be considered. These scans provide a roadmap for surgeons, pinpointing where and how to operate. And in the end, they can help make that most important final decision. We had gathered all the information possible, and though it hurt, it helped us make the right decision to cease further treatment.

Throughout Kim’s cancer journey, though we were usually reeling and heartbroken whenever Kim had a scan, we were also incredibly thankful for them. They spit out very difficult information to process, but truly valuable information we needed to go forward at each juncture of her journey. And even that last scan, as difficult and final as the results were, we were able to nod and accept them with a measure of peace. We had done everything we could, Kim had fought the good fight, and now the scan showed that the time had come to truly focus on what mattered most in life: Faith, Hope, and most important, Love.

Thank you for joining us on this fundraising journey.

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