Our Cancer Journey — Part 2: Living Scan to Scan

One treatment at a time. One scan at a time. One step at a time.

“The cancer is back. It’s spread to your liver, lungs, and bones. It’s now Stage 4.”

Those words from the GP hung in the air, a gut punch that stole the breath from our lungs. How could this be happening? Just six months earlier, the urologist had been so confident.

“We got 100% of the cancer,” he’d said. “You’re good to go.”

We were so naïve. We believed him. We thought the nightmare was over.

Now, it felt like time had stopped.

What the hell just happened?

The initial diagnosis had been a shock, but this felt like a betrayal.

When certainty disappears

Our world shifted abruptly from the care of a kidney specialist to that of a medical oncologist. Questions swirled endlessly. Where do we go from here? Do we start chemotherapy? Radiation? What are our next steps?

After meeting with our new oncologist, he recommended a treatment I had never heard of: immunotherapy.

And so, the research began.

Drowning in information

The internet is a double-edged sword. On one hand, you have a universe of information at your fingertips. On the other, you’re drowning in conflicting advice, snake-oil salesmen pushing the latest “cancer-killing” pill, and countless YouTube doctors claiming they have the cure.

Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has a miracle food or a special protocol.

The sheer volume of information is overwhelming. How do you know who to trust?

The harsh truth about cancer is that no two journeys are the same. Two people can be on the identical treatment plan — one goes into remission, and the other loses their battle. It’s a horrible disease that doesn’t care how much money you have, how nice you are, or who you are.

Cancer does not discriminate.

Living scan to scan

We started immunotherapy. This became our new normal: three-weekly trips to the hospital for infusions and daily medication.

Life was no longer measured in birthdays, holidays, or seasons. Instead, we lived from one three-month scan to the next.

If you've never lived with cancer, "living scan to scan" is exactly what it sounds like. Instead of measuring life by birthdays, holidays, or seasons, you begin measuring it in three-month blocks, waiting for the next scan to tell you whether everything has changed... or nothing has.

Scan anxiety is real. It’s a constant, low-humming dread that builds to a crescendo as the appointment draws closer.

How do you cope when it feels like your own body is failing you? It’s supposed to be your greatest defender, yet it’s allowing this disease to thrive. The logic feels so simple: see a cancer cell, kill it.

Come on, immune system. Do your job.

Small wins that don’t feel like wins

Three months into immunotherapy, the first PET scan showed that some of the cancer had progressed. As a result, our oncologist recommended adding radiation to target the cancer in the bone.

This was August 2023 — almost a year to the day from the initial diagnosis.

We learned that radiation wasn’t covered by our private health insurance, leaving us with another hefty bill to pay. But you do what you have to do.

The radiation successfully shrank the cancer in the bone. You think you should celebrate these small victories, but it’s hard to feel true joy. Your husband still has cancer. You’re still going to the hospital every three weeks for an infusion. He’s still taking oral cancer drugs every single day.

And the drugs are taking their toll.

They make him sick. They cause high blood pressure, which means more pills to manage that. They bring on arthritis, adding another layer of daily pain.

But he’s still here. He's still alive.

So you fight with everything you have.

Doing everything “right”

Jason followed the advice of reputable doctors online. He read the books. He did everything humanly possible. He gave up alcohol, fast food, and anything else that could be considered a poison. He adopted a healthy diet and took his daily greens.

He did everything right.

And yet, the cancer persisted.

So we kept living in our three-month cycle, from one scan to the next.

June 2025

Fast forward to June 2025.

The immunotherapy has stopped working. The disease is no longer being held at bay. After our most recent scan, we sat with our oncologist as he walked us through what comes next.

Despite Stage 4 cancer, high blood pressure, and arthritis, Jason is still relatively healthy. He still goes fishing. We still take holidays. He can still do most day-to-day activities.

He is still fighting.

Our oncologist laid out the options in front of us — a new battlefield to navigate:

Treatment

Another treatment

Or a clinical trial.

The fight isn’t over.

But it is changing.

This is what our lives have become — measured in three-month cycles, learning how to live fully while carrying the weight of what comes next.

Chooky xx

Author's note:

Thank you for taking the time to read this part of our story. This chapter marked the moment everything changed for our family.

If you're reading this because you or someone you love is facing cancer, please know you're not alone. Every journey is different, but I hope that by sharing ours, you'll find comfort, understanding, or simply the reassurance that someone else truly gets it. We'll share Part 3 when we're ready. 💛