July 2015.
Kim: My phone rings, it’s Krista. “Hey buds, how are you?”. I cannot speak. I am mute, crying.
Krista: I am on the ferry to Victoria to work for the day. The sun is shining and we are one of the cars at the very front - amazing view. I call Kim and when I ask how she is … It is silent. No words. She can’t speak. I can hear her crying. Dear God what has happened. My head is racing. Is she hurt? Did something happen to Ava? I have no idea what has happened. “Oh buds. What happened?” She still can’t speak and her breathing is rapid.
Kim: I can barely breathe.
Krista: “Try and take a deep breath. Just breathe with me.” I am taking audible slower deep breaths hoping she can slow down a little so I can find out what has happened. “Nice and slow … blow it out through your mouth slowly if you can.”
Kim: I tell Krista that I had an appointment with Dr. O yesterday. Remember my psychic pain? Well, it’s back. Dr. O was skeptical about my feelings but ordered a CT scan anyway. There are spots on my lungs and in my bones. Now that I have said the words to Krista out loud, I slide into a hysterical state of being. It’s as if nothing exists and all I can feel, see, hear and touch is cancer. I start hyperventilating. I can’t breathe. Oh God, how did this happen?
Krista: Oh. My. God. The world stops for a moment and I feel like we are suspended in the surreal. I hear the words … or should I say my head hears them but my heart doesn’t want to. Before I can even allow any of it to really land and sink in I need to help Kim breathe. She is hyperventilating. She is having a panic attack and I don’t want it to escalate more. She is home alone and I am stuck on a ferry and not able to go to her.
Kim: I can hear Krista, soothing me, telling me to breathe. Even in my altered state, I can tell that I have rocked her too. She is trying to calm me down but it’s not working. The news is too much to process. How can I do this to my family again? I am telling Krista what Dr. O told me. Incurable. Cannot eradicate it. Time unknown but the key is to manage it for as long as we can. All I can think about is Char and Lindsay. They made it a year past their recurrence. I am in full-blown panic mode.
Krista: I’m doing my best to keep my composure and stay strong. “Kim, breathe with me. Match my pace.” Inhale … exhale. Inhale … exhale. Inhale … exhale. “That’s it. Keep breathing. Keep slowing down the exhale.” In truth, the breathing is as much for her as it is for me. As I keep taking the deep breaths the reality of it all is starting to really come to light. I can feel a gamut of emotions making their way to the surface. Kim is trying to get out bits and pieces of information and none of it is good.
Kim: I can tell that Krista is beside herself too and yet she is so calm. Trying to assuage my fear and insanity. “Kim, I need you to breathe. Take a deep breath.”, she is telling me. I am raw and it feels like I am drowning. Hearing that my cancer has metastasized is far worse than hearing that I had cancer the first time. The Agency does a great job telling you that a recurrence is less favourable than the initial diagnosis. My brain cannot process the severity of the meaning. All I can think about is Ava and the rest of my family. It feels like I had just come to terms with the effects on them from the first round and now we have to go back to battle and this time I won’t win.
Krista: Kim is terrified. My heart hurts so much for her. What can you say to anyone when they get that kind of news? Nothing can make it better. Nothing can take away her fear. She is still on the rollercoaster of a panic attack. It comes in waves, up and down. It is like tunnel vision, a camera shutter closing … there is more dark than light. I know them well. I used to get them after mom passed away. We just need to get through the rollercoaster. And the only way to do that is by breathing. No words, sentiments or anything will help except the simplicity of breath. Breath is the one thing that speaks to and can be understood by our whole body. Inhale … exhale. Inhale … exhale. Inhale … exhale.
Kim: I can’t stop picturing Ava’s little face this morning. We were having our morning cuddle when she asked if my cancer is back. “No”, I lied. “If nothing is wrong, why do you have to go back today?” she replies. I don’t’ know what to say. Tears start to roll down her face and she says, “I’m not ready to lose you yet.” Heart = crushed. My little babe is so mature and smart and yet so innocent as I look at her crying. I try to comfort her but I don’t know what to say to make this better. This two-minute interaction has sent me into the biggest tailspin of my life. I want to escape, run, hide … anything but face this new truth.
Krista: This is BS. I am upset, I am angry, I am incredibly sad for my friend. Kim has been through one of the worst experiences and she was finally … finally in a place where she was getting strong and I could see the fear didn’t have a hold of her in the way it used to. She was making incredible progress with diet, exercise, work and a healthier lifestyle. She had worked so hard and I felt like she was coming to a place where all of the pieces of her hard work were coming together. And then whammo - just like that her world flips on itself.
Kim: I really believed that I was done with cancer. I had an 80% chance of it not returning if I did all of the things The Agency told me to do. Why? How? I was so good. I did more than they told me to. I am scheduled for another CT scan this afternoon. To get a more expanded look to see if it’s spread elsewhere. It’s already in my lungs and bones. Can it be any worse? I was always afraid to get too comfortable after treatment and this is why. I was afraid that cancer would sneak up on me again and it has with a vengeance. Just when I started to live my life without fear, cancer reminds me once again that it has all of the power.
-Kim & Krista
image: Krista McKeachie