Sharing the Unshareable - A Hard Update

I’ve waited all week for the right words to come to me. I’ve stared at a blank screen for days, trying to find the courage to share this update, knowing so many of you are waiting.

On Monday, we met with Kara’s oncologist to hear the results of her PET scan. Her cancer has spread. There are spots in her liver, stomach, and bones.

The doctor made sure we understood that it’s not curable—that’s his job, of course—but separating the feelings from the facts in that moment felt impossible. I couldn’t help but resent the messenger. The list of questions we had carefully prepared beforehand suddenly felt irrelevant. I crossed off anything related to a cure. We’re dealing with a new reality now.

In that room, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out. For the first time, Kara looked genuinely concerned. She sensed the fear and anxiety swirling around her, and it about broke me. She asked for further explanation: “What did the doctor say? What’s happening to me?”

I flipped the switch. I pulled some superwoman-level strength from deep within. I stroked her hair and told her, “Hey, I got you. It’s all going to be okay.” Internally, though, I questioned every word because none of this is okay. But I know I’ll give her everything I have to make it as okay as possible for her, even though I don’t think I’ll ever truly be okay again.

On the drive home, I pulled up the Iowa football game for Kara to watch on my phone. The game’s commentary became white noise, like the teacher in Charlie Brown—completely incomprehensible. I appreciated the distraction, though, as my thoughts spiraled. We made it home just in time to catch the end of the game. Kara darted into the house to watch them lose. I hated that for her. Every disappointment feels amplified now. But in true Kara fashion, she shrugged it off: “It’s just a game. There’s always next year.”

This week, we’ve kept our circle small. Saying the words out loud makes everything feel all too real, like taking another punch to the gut. So if you're close to us and receiving the news through this post, I apologize that we didn't have the strength to share it with you directly.

All things considered, Kara is doing really well. She’s not tired of the doctor visits and still smiles during blood draws. Her spirit is much stronger than mine. She’s hopeful in keeping her plans to visit her Florida friends and family in January and wants to join me as I head back to the office next week. She’s wishing everyone a happy New Year - and I can’t help but be a little bitter, thinking it’s extra cruel to be suffering in a time that everyone is toasting to new beginnings, because I really hate ours. We’re both clinging to each other a bit tighter these days. Our codependency has always been strong, but now it’s on another level.

Yesterday, we called the Mayo Clinic to get a second opinion on her case and explore clinical trial options. We’re trying to balance reality with a healthy dose of hope, summoning as much faith as we can muster.

Thank you to everyone who continues to pray for our family. Your love and support mean the world as we navigate this impossibly hard journey.