Bone Cancer: Part 3: PET-CT Followup in Kirk's Office

Kirk (see photo) said that the PET/CT Scan showed two areas where cancer is likely. One is the ping pong ball lesion on her ilium that we already knew about; the other is a spot in her pancreas that we didn't know about. Although Kirk assured us that her life can be prolonged, I later learned online that her odds of surviving until next year are only 10%. 

During our visit with him, she asked that Kirk do the following: 

(1) Prescribe something for her rapidly worsening pain. (He gave her Tylenol with Codeine, and told her to let him know when she needs something stronger.) 

(2) Put a note in her chart saying that she wants to begin the process of obtaining life-ending medication through the Oregon Death with Dignity Act. He readily agreed to do this, and added that it's best to apply early (perhaps, he was thinking of instances in which people have been accused of goading a sick relative into suicide).

When we got up the next morning, the results of the blood tests that she had on her way to Kirk's office were online. They were normal with the sickening exception of the CA 19-9 pancreatic tumor marker. The normal value for this test is 37; Peggy scored +1000.

As we were leaving Kirk's office the previous day, my eyes had met his, and I saw in them an expression of horror unlike anything I've ever seen on anyone. I couldn't imagine the reason for this because I had thought that, since Peggy's body wasn't riddled with tumors, we had years, together, rather than months. When I got home and googled pancreatic cancer survival rates, I knew the reason for his anguish.

For decades, he has never seen one of us without also seeing the other, but I fear that we're nearing a time when, for however long I live, I will see him alone. 

I was working on my grocery list while waiting for Kirk to enter the exam room. When I turned the paper over to write on the back, I found a poem that I had written in the late '70s. When Kirk arrived, Peggy shared it with him, and he spent a long moment pondering it.

I would take Peggy's disease into my body in a heartbeat and count myself lucky to do it, so why is it that I cannot escape the selfishness of continually thinking of my own pain?