Kim Kicking Cancer!

Darin Jensen is organizing this fundraiser on behalf of Kaci Guilford.

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My name is Darin, and Kim is a person I have loved for more than forty years. I met Kim when I was in junior high school and Kim was a freshman in high school. Kim was a beautiful, talented girl dating my brother. She was a D-ette—the glamorous girl precision dance troupe at Davis High School in Kaysville, Utah. After high school, Kim married my brother and together they had three beautiful daughters: Kaci, Ashlee, and Kelsey.

Over the years, as we all grew into and got busy with our own lives, we saw less of each other. Kim and her family settled in Denver and I moved around the west coast. Even being far apart in space and time, Kim always held a special place in my heart as someone who offered me unconditional love and showed immense compassion in everything she did.

Thankfully, I eventually got reacquainted with my Denver-based clan and we have all grown closer over the past few years. Graduations, weddings, grandbabies—life transitions of all sorts; all the things that bring families together—brought us back together. I was in Denver this past Christmas with my own young children and shared in the blessing of Kim and Jim’s lovely blended family as they hosted a joyous Christmas for everyone. Our family is truly rich with love.

And now Kim is in the fight of her life. What a shock to find out last week about Kim’s cancer diagnosis. (You can read all about that odyssey below.) I am grateful that she is surrounded by her loving husband, Jim, her devoted daughters and many family and dear ones—all holding her in a circle of care and love. This part is not shocking because, Kim, of all the people on this planet, knows and shares love in abundance.

A devoted mother, daughter, grandmother, wife, and my sister-in-spirit, she is mustering all her strength and faith to kick this cancer. And no one and no thing is going to sway her conviction to kick this cancer and thrive well beyond it. With your love, she gains power. And that is the most important gift you can give.

But I’m going to ask you for something else. I’m asking you to join me in making a donation to a recuperation fund for Kim. Kim’s body and soul are working so hard and what she will need after the surgery and chemotherapy is healing through relaxation and comfort. I don’t know if what she will need and want is a trip to Mexico, Hawaii, or maybe a newer car to haul around her grandbabies. Whatever it is, I want to help make sure she has it—to make sure that she can focus on recuperation and that she has a little something nice to look forward to.

Plus, as everyone knows, this kind of ordeal is a financial burden—we don't get a break from our rents, utilities, and everything else, yet we give up some income to be by our loved-ones side. Let's lessen that burden for Kim and Jim together. Every donation, no matter how large or small, is greatly appreciated.

Kim is doing the biggest job for us in fighting off this cancer—please join me in paying her back with something special...just for her.

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The odyssey of the last two weeks, as told by Kaci:

It was a Wednesday evening, and Mom left a tearful message for me. When I called her back, I heard more tears in her voice, and was shaken by the fear I heard. “The doctor said I have ascites. Don’t google it. I am not sure what this will mean. My bloodwork is ok, my liver and platelets are a little elevated, but otherwise I’m fine. We think I maybe have cirrhosis.” We cried a little together over the phone, trying to understand what this could mean for the future. I was shocked—I had never, ever heard Mom scared for herself before. Sure, she’s complained of health issues for the last few years- mostly GI issues like bloating, feelings of fullness and general discomfort. But to hear Mom tearfully name a condition and warn about google searches, I knew something was off.

Monday, January 18: It was the feeling of fullness and discomfort over the weekend that led Mom to see the doctor. That week was full of tests, and anxious tension. On that Wednesday the doctor diagnosed ascites, but Mom still had a few more tests and a doctor’s appointment to determine the final diagnosis. After a CT scan on Thursday the radiologist rushed a paracentesis (a test to withdraw the abdominal fluid) and a drain of the fluid. The speed and urgency behind all the tests and doctor notes was concerning to Mom and Jim, to say the least.

Friday morning, January 22: Mom and Jim went to meet with the doctors to hear the results of the first week of tests. While they were hopeful that at best, this was just a weird condition and at worst, it was cirrhosis, the news the received shocked them: it’s most likely cancer. The primary care doctor scheduled an appointment with an oncologist the following Friday.

There were still some unreported test results, and the week between the primary care appointment and the oncology appointment was fraught with anxiety, tension, and prayers. Mom and Jim waited anxiously for the paracentesis results, and in the meantime, Mom went back to the hospital to get a PET scan and to get her ascites fluid drained out of her belly again. Her first draining was almost 3 litres of fluid; less than a week later, they drained another 3 litres. This was a condition that was obviously not getting better.

Friday, January 29, at 11am: Mom and Jim went in to meet with the general oncologist. The news was bad, and he had made them an appointment with a gynecological cancer specialist that afternoon. His diagnosis: stage 3c ovarian cancer. Not necessarily a death sentence, but by statistical averages, not a walk in the park either. The “good news” was the cancer didn’t seem to have a central tumor location, but was showing small activity all throughout her abdominal cavity- cancer ‘road rash’ (as they called it) over her uterus/ovaries/fallopian tubes, spleen and appendix, liver, colon, and diaphragm.

That evening, Mom and Jim had us girls and their family over for dinner to break the news. The family had been a hot mess all week, knowing the potential news could be devastating. Everyone was hoping for the best, but once the news was official, we were all in utter shock that barely a week ago, Mom was totally healthy and fine. We had prepared a dinner of comfort foods for the evening, and the days and hours leading up to the evening were pure stress—was this an evening of life changing, devastating news or just a weird blip in Mom’s otherwise general health?

Monday, February 1: Since Friday, things have happened fast and furious. Mom and Jim had a second opinion scheduled with another specialist. He agreed with the diagnosis and treatment plan: chemotherapy and surgery. Both doctors agreed that by looking at the spread of the cancer on the PET scan, it was unclear which to start first, so they wanted to do an exploratory laparoscopic surgery to check it out and make a decision. If the cancer was deemed operable at the time of the laparoscopy, they would operate right away and remove all cancer, and then follow up with chemo a few weeks later.

Wednesday, February 3: Just five days after swallowing the news of her diagnosis, Mom had laparoscopic surgery. Gratefully, the cancer was deemed operable and Kim had all of the visible cancer removed from her body that day. Her procedure included a total hysterectomy, a splenectomy, partial bowel resection, removal of her lymph nodes and removal of a layer of abdominal fat, as well as scraping the road rash cancer off of her liver and under her whole diaphragm. It was almost 5 hours of work.

Tuesday, February 8: Mom is recovering in the hospital, slowly but surely. The incision on her abdomen is healing well, and she is working on eating again, and building her strength up to do simple things like walk around and sit in a chair. She will soon be discharged to go home and continue recovery, and then start her chemo regimen in another 2-3 weeks.

While we all remain extremely positive, it’s tough to see our mom/wife/daughter/friend/loved one struggle with basic things, like acid reflux or sleeping through the night or moving her own legs. Mom is a woman of the greatest strength we have ever known, mentally and spiritually. She has overcome such adversity throughout her life, and continues, without question, to give back to others and love on them. Loving is Kim’s biggest strength—from coaching soccer teams each season to watching her three adorable grandbabies each week to taking care of her husband and daughters to annual volunteer projects and organizations, Kim loves to love people.

The recovery for Kim, our Mom, will happen—we have nothing but endless faith that this will all be a story we tell together later on, about our beloved one who beat cancer. It’s just that the road from here to recovery will be a long and arduous one, and we are buckling down to weather the storm. Thankfully, Kim’s love brings people together, so she has an army of support to carry her through the days when her strength just can’t do it alone.

Wednesday, February 10: Kim is going home today! One week after surgery, Mom is taking the battle to the homefront. We are all so happy to have her home.

***
Thank you for reading. I appreciate everything you can do to support Kim and her family. And I’m so grateful that Kim’s warrior spirit is fierce and that she is home recuperating. Be well—my sister.