Bethany

Kim Fernandez

The New York Times also did a follow up to the story from 2008

Thank you for supporting Kate over the past 3 1/2 years with your comments and notes here and directly to her. She fought a hard battle, and deserves the peace she now has. Kate passed away this morning, with her family at her side and knowing beyond a doubt how loved she was.

The last few weeks were hard on her, physically and emotionally, but in typical Kate fashion, she still greeted her visitors with a smile. She still offered her friendship and love, right up to the end of her fight. And, as always, she kept Lucky by her side, never giving up hope that something better was to come. Her cat, Charlie, stayed with her the last few weeks and she had a visit with her beloved horse, Cody, along with countless friends and relatives.

Those who loved Kate, even from afar, know what an extraordinary person she was. Stunningly beautiful, she made everyone feel welcome and at ease with her warmth, and she never stopped asking how everyone around her was doing. We’ll all miss her, but we feel blessed to have had her in our lives.

Kate would probably want to be remembered as a wife, runner, horsewoman, hard-working professional, dog and cat lover, and as a real survivor. She was up to any challenge–from a marathon to kayaking to fixing up the old house she loved, leaky artist’s loft and all–and we believe, even now, that pancreatic cancer was no match for such an amazing person.

Thank you all for your love and prayers. Please know that Kate offered all of you the same gifts, and your support meant the world to her.

Rest in peace, Kate. We all love you.

The details of that meeting are a bit blurry.  Was I actually supposed to make this decision right here and now?  The room started spinning and I became nausea at the thought of what he was asking me to do. I started to think about all of the things I needed to do when I got home – water the plants, return library books, put away the laundry – and for whatever reason the mundane aspects of my life are what gave me enough incentive to tell the doctor that I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Somehow I managed to joke that he wasn’t getting rid of me just yet.

I came home, still hurting from the knowledge that the treatment well is quickly running dry. I’m running out of options, but I’m trying to remain optimistic that one of these days something will come along and kill these tumors once and for all. Talking about it is the easy part, actually believing it is the tough part. How do I keep myself hopeful when my odds are dwindling with every treatment I receive?

I guess while I’m not very strong right now, I’m still fighting, and I’ll keep on surviving…and that will just have to be good enough for right now.

I was excited when I reached my one year anniversary of living with pancreatic cancer. I did it! I took a 3 to 4 month prognosis and stretched it to a full year. After one year of living with cancer, I thought I was strong and could take on anything. My foundation was stable and unwavering. I was quite proud of myself, thank you very much. My one year anniversary was something to celebrate. Bring on the confetti and cake! Unfortunately, my two year anniversary turned out to be something very different.

I woke up on the morning of my second anniversary and realized that I was far from happy – In fact, I was incredibly scared. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that, according to most published statistics, I have a mere three years left. Two down, three left. Something inside me snapped and my stable, unwavering foundation crumbled right in front of me. It’s difficult to explain, but this anniversary became a countdown to me…

• Will next Christmas be filled with more gift cards?
• Will I be able to make everyone stand up to toast in two years?
• Will I get to see Punxsutawney Phil three years from now?
• How many more Valentine’s Days will I have?

Now you all know how I feel about statistics, but I let the power of the numbers outweigh my personal beliefs. Someone suggested that I go back and reread some of my own posts about statistics and try to recapture the strength that I had back then. But, I didn’t. Instead I created and obsessed over my countdown. Two down, three left.

I don’t believe my countdown is a new concept. In fact, I’m convinced that most cancer patients have their own countdowns and refer to them constantly. Even in remission, I can still see a person take pause while opening Christmas presents to say a quick thank you for this year and pray for another cancer-free year.

So, I created this countdown in my mind and have been struggling with it for months. Enough. I can’t live like this. Well, more accurately, I refuse to live like this. So, the other day, I made my countdown a reality. I actually put the words on paper – and then I burned them. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t the best decision since our backyard is covered with dry leaves and I have no idea how to work our fire extinguisher.

Anyways, it was worth a shot and I can honestly say that I’m feeling better. There was something cathartic about seeing those words burn away.  While I might need to find a long term fix for my countdown obsession, at least in the short term, I seem to have gotten it out of my system. Of course I may need to revert back to using this technique again, but at least next time I’ll be sure to have the fire department on speed dial.

Thanks for your patience, love, and kindness. Warm hug,
Kate

Now my morning routine consists of laying in bed, trying to convince myself to move. Thank goodness Remy isn’t in a rush to get outside in the morning. There are some mornings when I feel trapped under my goose down comforter. My brain and body play tug-of-war on those mornings. My brain is ready to start the day and creates a long To Do list, but my body has other plans…and getting out of bed isn’t high on its list. I eventually make it out of bed just to spend the day on the couch. I take a little comfort in the fact that I usually feel a little better after my couch days. I have more energy following a couch day and usually manage to have a couple of productive days.

I’m not sure why I felt compelled to write about my couch days  -  I don’t want sympathy or anything like that. Maybe this is my apology for not blogging more often. I needed to take the summer off, but the summer quickly turned into summer and fall. So I’m happy to announce that I’m back and thanks to everyone who wrote such wonderful and supportive comments while I was away.

Warm hug,
Kate

One of my favorite places in the pond is over on Lily Pad 7, where you can find the Hop Chocolate Candy Shoppe.  As a tadpole, I used to go there all the time, always leaping home with a mouthful of tasty treats.  I dreamed of working there, and imagined myself eating as many chocolate-covered flies as I could fit in my gullet.

I finally got a job there one day, and ate so much the first hour that I thought I’d never want to see another piece of chocolate again, let alone eat one.  It’s a kind of overload, I think, that happens with most things.  What’s the old quote?  Too much of anything, even a good thing, is a bad thing.

When Kate first started this blog over a year ago, she wanted to write about her own journey as someone with pancreatic cancer – and that’s what she’s done.  Her posts discuss her experiences and feelings at various points in her fight with the disease.  But between you and me and the other frogs, I think Kate has maybe hit a little bit of that overload that I was talking about earlier.  At times, it’s hard for her to write only about cancer – that’s certainly not the only thing going on in her life, and it’s not the only thing that defines who she is.  It’s not what she wants to think about 24/7.  And honestly, after a while, it’s hard to always find something totally new to say – hence the Summer hiatus.

So with your support, I think I might whisper the idea in Kate’s ear that it would be perfectly okay for her, at least from time to time, to write a post or two here that aren’t directly about cancer.  Those posts would continue to tell her story, and still do so against the backdrop of PC – and I think they’d also show exactly what Kate means when she writes “let’s see how much life I can squeeze in between work, chemo, sleep, and scans.”

Did you know, for instance, that Kate just got back from a vacation in California?  I’d love to hear about it.

Hint, hint.

While I was struggling, I wondered how people could endure this treatment for months on end. My anti-nausea meds weren’t working, I couldn’t eat or drink anything. I finally found some medicine that brought relief and I was quickly back to my normal self, but I went to some pretty dark places during those four days. I doubted my strength and determination and was close to quitting the treatment. I was ready to throw in the towel after four days. Four days.

I tell you this because I want to pay tribute to those people who struggle with pain or nausea on a daily basis. It’s easy to say that you would be willing to go through hell to be healed, but it’s an entirely different thing to actually do it. There are some people who are in constant pain that can’t be relieved by medicine and I only wish I knew how they find the courage to continue their treatment. Apparently I’m not as tough as I originally thought and I have to say that that scares me just a wee bit. If I was in summer school, I’d be looking at a big red F right now. Let’s just hope I can squeeze out an acceptable C before the next round of tests.

Now, a few days later, I’m looking at their decision in a different light. I had a follow up appointment with my doctor and he put me Sutent, an oral chemo. Compared to my last treatment, this daily pill will be a breeze. Of course there will be side effects, but, not nearly as severe as my last treatment or the other one Guardian wouldn’t cover. It’s almost as if Guardian gave me the summer off by denying our request. All of a sudden, I’m on summer vacation from chemo. I don’t have to schlep down to the juicing room for treatment. No bloodwork, platelet or blood transfusions, premeds, or flushes.

However, just because I have July off doesn’t mean that I get to slack off. I still need to be vigilant about my diet and exercise regimen. In fact, I hope that my energy level will rebound on the new treatment and I’ll be able to exercise more. I’ve been a couch slug for way too long…time for me to hit the gym again.

And, speaking of exercise, I’d like to give a great big thank you to my friend Matt. He’s training for the LA Marathon and raising money for the Lorenzen Cancer Foundation. Check out Matt’s blog as he trains for his first marathon since having major ankle surgery. Thanks Matt…you’re awesome!