As an ovarian cancer survivor it took a long time for me to
tell my story. Now it’s hard to get me to not talk about it. Not everyone is
comfortable sharing their story. That’s all good, and I understand that, there
are still some parts of my cancer experience that are too personal to share.
Every survivor has a story and this is mine. Ovarian Cancer crept into my life
with illusive persistence. At the time of my diagnosis I had already endured
months of pain and anxiety. My relationships were changing and my emotions were
in a constant state of turmoil. It is little wonder that this disease is
sometimes called the silent killer. For a year I suffered all the classic
symptoms of ovarian cancer abdominal bloating, nausea, indigestion, feeling
full quickly, pelvic or abdominal pain, and constipation. I was back and forth
to my PCP thinking that, "Maybe this is something serious." I'd also
spend hours reading online about symptoms, get overwhelmed, and decide I was
making a big deal out of nothing. I believe that if I knew about ovarian
cancer, the symptoms and the lack of diagnostic testing, I would have been more
vigilant and realized that the changes in my body were not "silent"
but were there to make me pay attention. It wasn’t until attending a Lunch
& Learn at my job sponsored by the Georgia Ovarian Cancer Alliance and
getting one of their risk and symptom cards did I know something was seriously wrong.
My diagnosis came on March 17, 2006 after having my left ovary,
fallopian tube, omentum and appendix removed. When I woke up from surgery, I
was told by Gynecologic Oncologist Dr. Cyril Spann that I had stage 2c ovarian
cancer- a rare form called a germ cell (endodermal yolk sac) tumor. The next
four months were tough for me and everybody around me. I'm one of the ones who
didn't get too overwhelmed by my treatment program. Don’t get me wrong
chemotherapy sucked but it was manageable. I had three twenty-one day cycles of
the worst chemo drugs imaginable BEP (Etopiside, Bleomycin and Cisplatin). All
of my hair fell out and I always nauseous and tired. I had some pretty rough
days; depression and anxiety are to be expected, and I was no exception. My
life as I knew it would never be the same again, no matter the outcome. I never
planned on becoming an ovarian cancer survivor because, like most people, I
never planned on having ovarian cancer. I did my best to stay positive, and I
kept telling myself that I had plenty for which to be thankful - after all,
mine was an early stage cancer, NED (No Evidence of Disease) was extremely
likely, the treatment had been easier than I expected... But chemo still
sucked! I was also grieving the loss of an ovary (and fertility), the loss of the future I wanted,
my hair, the time it was taking for my hair to grow back before I could feel
like me again... I felt like my life had been put on pause to deal with cancer.
I wondered if I had caused it somehow, and how would I make sure I didn't get
it again? As I began adjusting to my new life as an ovarian cancer survivor, I
began to look for ways to deal with the new me.
Now eight years later it's mind-boggling how far removed
from my ovarian cancer diagnosis but yet how close I remain. I still can't believe that was me, chemo
bound, bald and scared out of my mind. I don't ever want to lose my connection
with ovarian cancer, I hate it...but I love who I've become because of it.
There are still those moments that I get that sinking feeling. Even as I write
this, my mind is racing and the tears are flowing...I'm okay now, yet there was
a real chance I wouldn't be. Having a disease like ovarian cancer has provided
me an opportunity to evaluate my life. It also affords me an opportunity to
think about my relationship with God. I grew-up a Southern Baptist, but being
told you have ovarian cancer put new meaning into those prayers that can
sometimes become customary. Someone once asked me to explain to them how I
could believe in God. As I sat thinking I was like, hey that’s not something I
can do. If you’re looking for the logic in belief, it’s not there, but I do
know that God cares for me and that He has a good place awaiting me when it’s my
time to go. I credit God, my medical care givers, my family members and my own
stubbornness for my survival of this disease. I truly believe that
this cancer journey/war has been a blessing. My biggest blessing/supporter has
been my husband of seventeen years, Erik. He has been with me every step of the
way from connecting my IVs, driving me here and there, and pushing me at times
when I had no will. All of this has not been without a few choice words from
both of us, but no one has been privileged to have more love than I have.
When I think about this eight year cancer journey/war, I
realize that even with the ups and downs, the surgeries, and the chemotherapy
side effects, I’ve gained many blessings out of this journey/war. This cancer
journey/war is mine, no one else’s. I’ve fought it and I own it. I’m going to
keep talking about it through advocacy as long as God allows me to do so. Advocacy
has given me a tool to continue fighting this disease, not only for me but for those
women who have lost their battle, those women who are recently diagnosed, those
women who may be at risk and those women who are at risk and don’t know it.
This is not to say that advocacy is preventive, because I have lost friends who
were just as passionate and committed to this cause as I am. I am only saying
that it has helped me. Speaking out works - by getting involved, breast cancer
survivors increased funding for breast cancer, which has led to new treatments
and tests that are saving more lives than ever before. We are doing the same in
the ovarian cancer community. As advocates for ovarian cancer we are educating
women and some healthcare providers about ovarian cancer, changing public
policy, raising research dollars and making a difference!
So for all of you who want to know why after eight years I’m
still talking about ovarian cancer…as the current president of the board of
directors of the Georgia Ovarian Cancer Alliance (yes the same organization
that did that Lunch & Learn full, circle moment); I intend to continue to
repay this gift I was given in hopes that I can prevent what happened to me
from happening to other women. I want all women to be aware of the symptoms of
ovarian cancer. I will continue to raise my voice and share my story. Ovarian
cancer or any form of cancer doesn’t deserve to suck all of the life out of
you, your family and friends.
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