Hello! Sorry we have to meet this way... (Post #1)

 

The man himself, happy to be home 

from the hospital back in November.

Hi there, welcome to Ken's blog.😊 Except he's not the one writing it, I am, his wife of almost 30 years. 🥰 I began blogging back in June of 2022 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, but this isn't about me, it's Ken's turn now. 😒 (If you have a morbid sense of curiosity and want to read about my cancer journey, my blog can be found here.) 

As it's highly unlikely that you stumbled across this blog by chance, I'll presume you're acquainted with Ken. However, you may not be acquainted with me. I come with several warning labels including, but not limited to:

1. I write as I would speak to a friend; hence, the verbiage can be rather colloquial. Right. Because most people use the words "hence" and "verbiage" in their usual lexicon.😁 You'll understand what I mean by the end of this blog post, trust me. 
2. I believe in authenticity. This means I don't hold back when discussing emotions - you've been warned! 🌊
3. I am somewhat fluent in basic medicalese, provided the topic has affected a family member, as my coping mechanism involves researching, and researching, and researching. 🤓
4. I talk about God a lot... like a lot a lot. I try not to be annoying, but probably don't always succeed. 😇 
5. Oh, and I overuse ellipses...a lot. (Sorry, not sorry!🤭)

Rather than rehashing the whole story and risk putting everyone to sleep, I'll just put a link to the first post explaining things right here. I posted a quick update after his February 25 appointment with his surgeon, which you can access here. 

Some of you have reached out with questions I haven't addressed in the previous blog posts, so I thought I'd take the easy way out and format this post as a Q&A. 

Appendix cancer? That's a thing?

Right?!? Sounds bizarre, doesn't it? I found this explanation on the Canadian Cancer Society website:

     

Cancer cells have gene mutations that turn the cell from a normal 

cell into a cancer cell. These gene mutations may be inherited, 

develop over time as we get older and genes wear out, or develop 

if we are around something that damages our genes, like cigarette 

smoke, alcohol or ultraviolet (UV) radiation from the sun.

Source: Canadian Cancer Society

So basically, any living cell can become cancerous. Pleasant thought. 🫨

In Ken's case, his appendicitis was the result of his cancer.

I don't understand, how did Ken not realize he had appendicitis? 

Good question! If you discover the answer, please let me know. 😒 Usually, when you have appendicitis, you have a fever, lower right quadrant pain/tenderness, and may vomit. In other words, you feel sick. Ken had none of the above, well, sorta'... He did have a bit of abdominal discomfort, but he has the pain tolerance of a fence post and just dismissed it as a side effect of a new migraine medication he was taking. Marigan, our daughter, who happens to be an ER nurse, even looked for McBurney's Sign (to no avail), described by the Emergency Care BC website as:

McBurney’s point tenderness, maximal tenderness at 

1.5 to 2 inches from the anterior superior iliac spine 

(ASIS) on a straight line from the ASIS to the umbilicus.

Source: Emergency Care BC

Could this all have been avoided if he'd gone to the hospital earlier?

Maybe? We'll never know, will we? And wondering about the "what ifs" isn't exactly helpful. 🤷‍♀️ For reasons currently known only to God, this is the pathway our family was supposed to take. Could God have made his symptoms more obvious? Sure, but He didn't. (Also, comments/questions like these are not helpful and have been known to cause a reaction called "snarkiness."😏)

How's Ken feeling? 

Physically, he feels better than he has in months. 🤷🏼 Emotionally, well...🎢 I believe he's trying to keep himself so busy that he doesn't have time to think. Also, being Ken, he doesn't want to burden anyone, but tears have been shed. 🥹

How can you talk about this so calmly? 

😂🤣😂🤣😭 Yeah, I'm not always calm, believe me. On Wednesday, the 5th of March, I started to feel overwhelmed by feelings of anticipatory grief. This is exactly what it sounds like:

Anticipatory grief is the grief that occurs when 

you are waiting or expecting a death to happen.

Source: Canadian Cancer Society

(As an aside, I would be a pretty bad widow, and the chances of finding someone like Ken, who not only tolerates my quirks, but thinks they're a good thing are null, nichts, nada. August 26, 2025 will be our 30th wedding anniversary, which is not nearly long enough when you have a good marriage. I do think it's unfair. I mean, I actually LIKE my husband. Oh, I love him too, of course, but I LIKE spending time with him, I LIKE working with him, I LIKE doing life with him. We're not done yet! I hope. 🥰)

Before all the drama began, I ordered this figurine as a Valentine's Day 

gift for Ken. He has a similar hat purchased on our trip to Scotland in 2019, and I 

bring him breakfast every morning I'm at work. Unfortunately, growing old together is not

 something we can take for granted. I'm hoping and praying this scenario comes true. 

Wednesday night I went to bed feeling kinda' low and woke up feeling as though Eeyore had taken over my Emotions Department. I got ready for work, looking forward to my regular hair appointment I thought was booked for that morning. I thought wrong. (Yeah, stress messes with your memory. 😑) Unfortunately, in anticipation of a visit to my amazing hairdresser, I hadn't even combed my hair! Not exactly the professional image I like to portray. 🤦🏻‍♀️ No worries, I would just pop into Dollarama across the street from the clinic, and pick up some bobby pins or some such. Not so fast...I had to wait a few minutes for them to open. Unfortunately, the tears I'd been holding back since awakening breached my self-control and I was unable to stop crying. Ken called to see what was taking me so long and told me to go home upon hearing my squeaky voice. 🙃 One slight problem - we'd driven to work together and are not exactly walking distance to the office. Thankfully, Ken's parents came to the rescue and dropped off one of their vehicles. (If you've met his parents, not only will this not surprise you, but you'll know where he got his "niceness" from. ❤️) Our emotions are best described as emulating a rollercoaster. Thankfully, God is our seatbelt and sometimes the only reason we don't feel like we're hurtling through space. 

Does this mean you don't believe in miracles? 

Not at all! I believe in miracles with all my heart. The very fact that I'm typing this blog is evidence of a miracle! (Read more about that here.) Do I believe that God could miraculously heal Ken? Without a doubt. He could heal him spontaneously, He could use Dr. Haase, the surgeon, He could use HIPEC...I try not to limit God. 😁 However, believing that God can work a miracle is different than demanding that He do so. Ken and I believe that whatever transpires, it is God's will. (Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds to those who don't share our faith. That's fine. 😊) We have had plenty of opportunities to exercise this particular belief, and it's only grown stronger with each "stroke of bad luck." (BTW, we don't believe in luck. 🙏🏻) So do I believe that Dr. Haase could open Ken up and say, "Wait... where's the cancer!?!" Yup. Absolutely. Do I believe that He will? Maybe. Thankfully, I'm not God. (Yeah...you really ought to be more grateful for that particular fact...⚡🌩️⚡) I may not know what the future holds, but that's okay, because God does, and I trust Him. Lately, God keeps bringing the Bible verse from Exodus 14:13a to my mind:

“Don’t be afraid. Stand firm and see the Lord’s 

salvation that He will accomplish for you today."

So what's the plan, I heard his cancer is Stage 4?

Yup, you heard right. However, Stage 4 in 2025 is not the same as Stage 4 in 2000 or even 2010; science has come a long way. Ken will have surgery (CRS-HIPEC) on the 17th of March, which will dictate further treatment. He may need systemic chemo ("normal chemo") or he may not, that remains to be determined. Thankfully, while his scan showed nodules of cancer within and just outside the peritoneum, there is no evidence of spread to other organs such as his liver, lungs or bladder. 

 

What's this HIPEC thing you keep nattering on about?

HIPEC is super duper cool! (Provided you're not the patient, of course.😬) It is usually combined with Cytoreductive Surgery (CRS) which is where they try to remove as many macroscopic (visible) cancer cells as possible. This may require considerable "carving," to use the term of one surgeon Ken saw, including the removal of any organs or portions of organs that are affected by cancer. Following the CRS, HIPEC is administered. The John Hopkins Medicine website has a great explanation:

After your surgeon removes all visible tumors and diseased tissue 

from the abdomen, he or she will insert a catheter containing

 the chemotherapy drugs, which are pumped into your abdominal 

cavity. The catheters are connected to a perfusion machine, 

which heats the chemotherapy drugs and flows them through 

your abdomen for one to two hours. Your surgeon will 

drain the remaining chemotherapy from the abdomen and rinse 

the abdomen with a salt solution before the incision is closed.

Source: John Hopkins Medicine

A few additional details include:

• The chemo is heated to 42℃.
• It's stronger than "regular" IV chemo drugs.
• They rock the patient gently from side to side to ensure that every nook and cranny gets nuked.
• It's preferable to IV chemo because abdominal cancers often have poor blood supply, which renders it less effective. 

So this is pretty major surgery?

Well, considering that it's called "The Mother of All Surgeries," I would venture to say yes. We were told it can take anywhere from 5-10 hours. Now, the surgeon is not "carving" the whole time; they want to ensure that they have all the cancer without removing too much tissue, so they constantly send biopsies to the lab. This extends the overall time required to complete the procedure.

Oy. That sounds brutal! What's recovery like?

Hard? He's not only being "carved up" like the proverbial Thanksgiving turkey, but will be "brined" as well! Following his surgery, he will be taken to an isolation room on the surgery ward where he will have his own HIPEC-trained nurse; thanks to the chemo, he'll be toxic. (Sorry if I find that absolutely hilarious. My so-sweet-he-causes-cavities hubby will be "toxic?" 😁) His hospital stay will probably be between 7-14 days. 

If you're really interested in the details of his surgery, you can find the online patient information booklet from AHS here. 

So you're just hanging around at home, waiting for surgery? 

Bahahahahahaha! 😂 Okay, if you're asking that question, you probably don't know Ken very well. He worked all last week and has a fully booked week ahead. He doesn't want to let his patients down! So no, if anything he's working harder than ever in an attempt to get things done before his surgery. He still has no symptoms, so why not? I mean, I could compose a list of at least 17 reasons in less than a minute, but...🤷‍♀️ Yes, attempting to continue living as though nothing has changed is helpful as a distraction, but it's not always successful. Then again, I have commented that if he wasn't working, it might not be the cancer that's responsible for his demise...😇 Meanwhile, my nit-witted brain is offering such helpful thoughts like, "Hmmm, you probably shouldn't buy more than one bottle of that mustard. Ken is the only one who eats it and who knows if he'll be around long enough to finish even one bottle." Yeah, it's great when your brain cells turn on you. 🙄 ( In all fairness, the pure absurdity of this thought did make me laugh, so there's that...)

This must be really difficult for your family, especially after your cancer experience.

No, really?!? I know people don't know what to say, but trust me when I say that this comment is NOT helpful. So far, I have exhibited amazing self-control and refrained from saying, "Oh really, you think so? Hmm, I hadn't thought of that. We're really happy to be on this journey again; there's comfort in the familiar, you know?" So far. 😬

After my diagnosis, I wrote a blog post titled "My friend was just diagnosed with cancer; what do I do?!?"  (Linked here.) I have since discovered that when your husband is diagnosed with cancer, the same suggestions apply. Seriously, what can you say to a family in our situation? Upon telling a friend, she responded with, "I don't know what to say! I don't have the words...are there words?" The answer is no, not really. Her response was perfect. Reactions such as "I'm sorry," "I'll be praying for/thinking of you," and "Wow, that really sucks!" are about the only appropriate responses, because yeah, it really does suck. 

So why do you blog about it? Ken is a private person, isn't he?

He sure is, which is why I'm the one blogging, yes, with his permission. Actually, he's the one telling people about it! 

I blog for a couple of reasons:

1. Writing is therapeutic for me.
2. I hope someone might be helped by the information I share.
3. I believe in armies. 🤔 Allow me to explain by sharing a story. 

When we received the news that Ken's cancer had spread and was Stage 4, I had a bad day. Like, a really bad day. As it was my birthday, I had planned to sleep in, enjoy some shopping in the city, and pop by the office for lunch. After Ken called me with the news in the morning, I was in no shape to leave the house. I teared up periodically throughout the day, but when Ken got home we sat on the sofa in the sunroom and he held me while I sobbed. I mean, serious can't-catch-my-breath type of sobbing. I can't actually recall ever crying so hard. I was struggling with anxiety and the world looked pretty dark. I don't really remember much about Thursday, but around noon on Friday I posted a blog titled "Worst. Birthday. Ever" for obvious reasons. By evening I was feeling much better, almost as though someone had lifted a weight off of me. It was more than one person, however; as comments rolled in, the prayers went up. I know, without a doubt, that prayer works. I'm evidence of that. The difference between Wednesday and Friday evenings is hard to describe. Saying that it was like night and day sounds trite, but it's accurate. In sharing our news, I unleashed an army of prayer warriors who stormed the gates of heaven on our behalf. And I am grateful, so very, very grateful. I liken it to the difference between swimming with or without a life jacket. Yes, you can swim without one (provided you can, indeed, swim...😁) but it takes much more effort than bobbing along with the life jacket.🤷‍♀️ Intercessory prayer is amazing!

Recently, God reminded me of the story of Elisha and God's invisible army. Here's a synopsis, courtesy of Google AI. 😊

• The king of Aram sent an army to capture Elisha in the city of Dothan 
• Elisha's servant woke up to find the army surrounding the city 
• The servant was afraid and asked Elisha what they should do 
• Elisha told the servant not to be afraid and that their army was larger than the enemy's 
• Elisha prayed to God to open the servant's eyes 
• God opened the servant's eyes and he saw a heavenly army of horses and chariots of fire 
• God blinded the enemy army, which did not fight against the Israelites 

So how does this relate to our family's situation? Well, we feel as though we are being supported by so many people, if we were able to see them all in one place, it would be overwhelming! We have received messages of support from around the world, so thank you. They are a reminder that God's still good, even when life isn't. 

Special friends of ours dropped off a meal. Yum!