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At the suggestion of our volunteers, and with the incredible assistance of
survivor Dianne Blankenstein, we have gathered stories from many of our survivors. These stories help demonstrate the
difficulty in early diagnosis of ovarian cancer, but most of all these stories demonstrate the
tremendous spirit of these women. All of these women, those who have passed on and those who have
reached their milestone 5 year+ survivorship marks, have been inspirations to all who have had the privilege of knowing
them. We want to thank each of these women, and all our survivors - you are truly remarkable women!
 
"My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at the age of 44 in the mid-1980s. At that time there was very little,
if any, information on ovarian cancer for survivors or their families. My mother sought out doctors for four or five
months before she was finally diagnosed with ovarian cancer at an advanced stage. It was her persistence in telling
doctors that she "wasn't feeling right" that finally resulted in a diagnosis, although unfortunately at a late stage.
I was fortunate in that my mother survived until age 59, at which time in 1999 she died of ovarian cancer.
The combination of my mother's struggle and my own awareness of how little was available for patients and their families
led me to become involved with the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition. In 2000 I was fortunate to work with Nancy Perry,
RN to establish the DFW Chapter in honor of my mother. Toward the end of her life my mother said "Do something about
this disease" and that is what we are doing - we're shouting out about this silent disease."
- Renee Rossi, M.D.
"I decided to take my Mom to the Texas Rangers game for her Mother's Day gift on Saturday, May 7, 2005. I ordered two
tickets off of the internet and when I received them there was a phone call from the salesperson stating that there had been
a mistake. He told me he accidentally sent me two tickets that were one row behind the ones I ordered but they were the
exact same seat numbers. I told him no big deal that I was fine with just one row back. He apologized and thanked me for
being okay with the mistake.
My Mother and I went to the game very excited to watch the Rangers play the Cleveland Indians on the 7th. We were in
section 18, row 7, seats 9 and 10. We were behind the Indian's dugout between third base and home plate.
The Rangers were winning the game by several runs and had quite the bats that night. Alfonso Soriano had already hit
two homeruns. My mother and I are both big sports fans and had talked about leaving between the 6th and 7th innings to
go watch the Mavericks in one of their playoff games. It was the bottom of the 7th when we were getting ready to leave and
we saw Alfonso Soriano get up to bat. We decided to stay and watch to see if he hit another homer. As all eyes were on him
he swung his bat very hard and hit a line drive foul ball. The ball was going about 150 miles per hour when I suddenly realized
it was heading straight for me. I couldn't move it all happened so fast, however, the thought crossed my mind "what is the
purpose?". The next thing I knew I was gasping for air and holding my stomach in serious pain (little did I know this
would be the first miracle I would experience). My mother was extremely concerned as the Ranger's first aid cart drove up to
get us. It was in the first aid area where I was told you really need to go to the emergency room to be checked out. I
was very concerned about my Mother and decided I would be okay. We left the game and headed home.
The next day was Mother's Day and I had gone to one of my sister's houses to visit. Two of three sisters were there with
one being a nurse. I told them my stomach wasn't feeling right and it hurt. My sister who is a nurse said let me look at
it so I lifted my shirt and to both sisters' surprise I looked 9 1/2 months pregnant. They immediately said we need to get
you to the emergency room. We headed to the closest hospital which was Harris Southwest Medical in Fort Worth. After some
time there I was called back and my sisters came with me. The doctor came in and said we will need to do a CAT scan to see
if the hit caused my spleen to burst or possible kidney damage. They ended up doing two CAT scans. My sisters and I were
just talking and laughing waiting for the doctor. A little while later in walks the doctor. He knelt down at the end of
my bed and said "Well the good news is your spleen is fine and your kidneys are not damaged but you do have cancer". My
sisters and myself were completely blown away by this. I asked him did you say "cancer" and he said unfortunately yes. He
said we have an appointment set up for you in the a.m. to see an oncologist. My oldest sister who is a nurse said wait a
minute how can you tell her she has cancer when you haven't even done a biopsy??? He said I know cancer when I see it.
The next morning my sisters and I left to go to the oncology appointment and the doctor confirmed what the emergency room
doctor had said. He said it really does look like cancer so we will need to do a biopsy and find out exactly where it is
coming from. I was admitted into the hospital where a biopsy was done and it confirmed I did have cancer. I sought two other
opinions and found the doctor that came most highly recommended. His name is Dr. John Schorge at UT Southwestern Medical Center.
He has truly been my knight in shining scapel. Dr. Schorge explained to me that I had stage IIIc ovarian cancer and would
need extensive surgery followed by chemotherapy.
On May 24, 2005, a major surgery was performed. My doctor found a very large amount of cancer. He did a complete hysterectomy,
removing 15 tumors (one was 10 pounds alone!), removing my spleen, appendix, a portion of my small intestine and 5.5 liters of
fluid. I woke up 25 pounds lighter which was simply amazing. I was recovering quite well, however, on the third day after
surgery I had an extremely difficult time breathing. It became life threatening so I was moved to ICU where I spent the next
6 days.
My lungs had filled up with fluid and I was basically drowning. My breathing had become extremely labored and my body
could not handle much more. There had to be a decision made to put me on a ventilator or not. The decision was made to
proceed with the ventilator and I stayed on that for about 3 days. When the time seemed right the ventilator was removed not
knowing for sure if I would be able to breathe on my own. This was my second miracle that I took my first breath off of the
ventilator and continued to breathe on my own (this happened on my Mother's birthday). Two or three weeks later I began
chemotherapy that ended up being 8 rounds, three weeks apart. About a month after my last round of chemo a CAT scan was
performed and my scan was clear. My doctor talked with me about becoming a part of a phase III study that I am now doing.
I am receiving chemotherapy once a month with blood work each week for 12 months. This is a maintenance plan that my doctor
and I decided on to help keep the cancer at bay.
It was DIVINE INTERVENTION that the ball had hit me because I would not have known that I had advanced ovarian cancer.
Not only did that ball hit me, it hit me in the stomach, not the head, face or leg, etc - THE STOMACH. Ovarian cancer is
very symptom silent and many women unfortunately do not know they have it until they are in the third or fourth stages. This
cancer is referred to as "the silent killer". Unfortunately the chances of a baseball hitting another woman with ovarian cancer
are slim to none, therefore, we need to all be advocates and insist that more research be done to come up with an early
screening test for this cancer. This is my mission, my purpose in life to help educate more women about this disease and
do what I can to get researchers and doctors really focused on testing used to find ovarian cancer in the early stages.
I want to be on Oprah to spread the word to women like me who had no idea about the severity of this disease and the lack of
testing. As women we need to stand together to demand better testing. Maybe if an ultrasound/sonogram and CA125 were done
every 6 months ovarian cancer could be caught much sooner. I may not have the answers, however, I do know there needs to be
a solution to this very, very soon so that other women do not have to deal with this life threatening disease."
- Jenny Sorrell
"My story really began back in 1999 when I had a hysterectomy removing both my ovaries and my uterus because of fibroid tumors. It took me almost a year to agree to the surgery, and only then when my gynecologist had tried everything else to make the bleeding stop. I had been under his care for 25 years and he had saved my daughters life when I had premature twins and she was tangled in her cord. He was an excellent doctor and a very caring person who has since died with cancer. I remember well our conversation in the hospital after the surgery when he told me the fibroids were benign and I would never have to worry about ovarian cancer.
In July 2002 I had my regular gynecological exam with my new gynecologist and nothing out of the ordinary was found. In October 2002 I went to my family doctor for my annual check up - part of which was a lung x-ray. He called after getting the results and said there was something wrong with one of my lungs - that I wasn't breathing deep enough and that I should take deep breaths several times a day and that he would schedule another x-ray the next month. Well, I didn't pass that one either, so he sent me for a dye test. That report came back that I had hydronephrosis of the left kidney (all swollen), but it said there was no sign of cancer. The swollen kidney was what had caused the shadow behind the lung on the x-ray and made it look like I wasn't expanding the lung enough when I breathed. My doctor recommended I see a urologist.
My husband and I were planning on leaving the next week for 2 weeks in Hawaii and were taking our adult children with us. I had no pain and the report said no cancer, so urologist vs. Hawaii. I picked Hawaii and we spent Thanksgiving and the early part of December there. I wouldn't do it differently even knowing the end results. I had the best time of my life and it gave me something to dream about all during chemotherapy. By that time I was having stomach problems and frequent urination. I had both of those symptoms so often with the fibroids that it just seemed natural for me.
In February 2003 I went back to my family doctor for a cholesterol test and he made an appointment for me with a urologist. By that time I was uncomfortable when I tried to sleep and I would become nauseous in the night if I rolled over onto my left side. In late March and April the urologist did several tests, among them a sonogram and a CT scan of my abdomen. The pathologist decided I had a kidney stone blocking my left ureter causing my kidney to swell. Both reports said no sign of cancer.
In May 2003 I had my first surgery of four surgeries for the year. This one was to remove the kidney stone and put a stent in the ureter to hold it open so the kidney could drain properly. During the surgery the urologist did not find a kidney stone, but some unusual tissue that had not even begun to form a tumor. He was not able to go further up the ureter to see the kidney because of the growth, but he removed all he was able to reach. The pathologist diagnosed the tissue as cancer and my urologist insisted I have a colonoscopy since the tissue cells resembled what is seen in colon cancer.
Mid June I had the colonoscopy - something one should only experience once in a lifetime. Fortunately no cancer was found. In late June 2003 I had my second surgery. The stent had stretched the ureter and the urologist was able to go up and look at the kidney. He also noticed some strange tissue further up in the ureter. To be safe he felt he should remove that section of the ureter in another surgery. He put in a second stent to help the kidney continue functioning.
In July 2003 I had more tests - none of which revealed anything abnormal in my abdomen. By then I was hurting on my left side when I sat or lay down. August 11, 2003, I went in for my third surgery of the year. At the time I went into the surgery I didn't know if my urologist would be able to save my left kidney. It had blocked again. When I came out of surgery I was told that a tumor between the size of a golf ball and a tennis ball was found in my pelvic area pressing against the ureter and blocking my kidney. The same pathologist that had looked at the earlier tissue looked at this tumor and said it was the same type cancer. My tumor was sent to Boston General up at Harvard Medical School and was diagnosed as endometroid adnocarcinoma. It was a grade 1 tumor. Since no one suspected it was ovarian cancer at the time of the surgery, a gynecological oncologist was not called into my surgery so I was not staged. Apparently some microscopic cells or ovarian tissue remained after my hysterectomy. It was just one of those things that sometimes happens. The good thing was that my kidney was saved. My bladder was rebuilt to take up the space where a portion of the ureter was removed. My left kidney doesn't work as well as my right one, but it's a keeper. My bladder is now shoe shaped and works better than it has in years.
My urologist had a gynecological oncologist visit see me at the hospital. I was to see him in his office after my release from the hospital. I went home on Saturday following my surgery and by the next Thursday I was back in the hospital with blocked intestines from the scar tissue from the 1999 surgery. I spent 23 more days in the hospital. My urologist selected a general surgeon for me and on Labor Day September 1, 2003, I had a section of my small intestines as well as my appendix removed - my fourth and last surgery of the year. During that surgery my oncologist was present and able to look for more cancer. The doctors were not able to get back into the area of the third surgery because it had not healed, but they didn't find any cancer on my right side.
I had the symptoms, but no one thought of ovarian cancer because I had my ovaries removed years before. My tumor never showed in any of the CT scans or numerous other tests. Nothing would have been found without the surgery.
I underwent the standard 6 treatments of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. In some ways I was more afraid of the chemo than the cancer. I was so heavily sedated after the fourth surgery that I barely remembered the oncologist visiting me - much less telling me I needed chemo. My husband remembered, but didn't think I was strong enough to handle it so he never talked to me about it. I really lost it after the office visit where the oncologist told me I needed chemo. I had watched my sister-in-law die of lung cancer 20 years before, a neighbor die of ovarian cancer about 10 years ago, and a co-worker survive breast cancer. They all suffered so with the chemo. I feel fortunate that medical science has made such improvements with the treatments since then.
I couldn't have had better care or better doctors and nurses taking care of me during my surgeries and treatment. They are truly dedicated professionals and all heroes to me. I consider August 11, 2003, as the day I became a cancer survivor. And I can now honestly call my self the quarter of a million dollar woman."
- Dianne Blankenstein
"Growing up in northern Indiana, I never knew my grandmother on my mother's side. I always knew she died at the age of 47 from breast cancer when my Mom was 11 years old. I can remember on one occasion when I was little my Mom telling me that she would probably get breast cancer too. She did at the age of 41. She went through chemotherapy, and it went into remission but it came back. Eventually the cancer invaded her body in numerous places, including her brain. She died at the age of 47, the same age as her mother. So now my Grandmother died at 47 and my mother died at 47, both of breast cancer. The thought was always there. I wonder if I'll get breast cancer and die at 47 too.
As an adult, I am 35 years old. I am married to a wonderful man for 15 years. My husband is partially paralyzed from an automobile accident 25 years ago. We have two beautiful boys, ages 8 and 10. Our lives revolve around our children's activities, running here and there for practices and games. We have a wonderful life.
Approximately two years ago, my father, who still lives in northern Indiana, asked me if I remembered one of my cousins from my mother side. Although I had not seen her in over 20 years, I did remember her. He told me he heard she was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She was 36 years old. That scared me. At the time I was 33 years old. That was awful close to my age. I periodically asked my Dad if he would hear anything about her but since my Mom and Dad were divorced close to 30 years ago, he was no longer close to that side of the family, therefore, did not know anything.
In late May 2001, I received a thick manila envelope in the mail. I saw that it was from my aunt, the mother of the cousin who had breast cancer. I had not heard from the family in over 20 years. Opening that envelope changed my life. It contained the information about my cousin's finding of the BRCA1 mutation, information explaining the mutation and information on the testing for the mutation. If someone inherits a BRCA1 mutation from their mother or father, they are more susceptible to the development of breast and ovarian cancer. Women with a BRCA1 mutation have up to an 87% risk of developing breast cancer, and up to 44% risk of developing ovarian cancer. Going through the information blew me away and it was scary. It was not something I was ready to deal with and to be quite honest, it was too much to handle. I put the information in my filing cabinet and closed the drawer....until that one day in April.
I was working in my home office in April 2002, and all the sudden, I had this overwhelming feeling. I told myself it was time to deal with this issue. I knew the results of the test would change my life forever but I was ready to deal with it. I pulled the information out, reread everything in it and started the process. I had contacted my Aunt and asked her for the contact information of the institution that did their testing. Once I was able to contact them, they forwarded me to a genetic counselor at UT Southwestern in Dallas. I called my two brothers and sister and told them I was going to get tested, and asked if they wanted to go with. Both of my brothers have a daughter, so it was in everyone's best interest to get tested. The counselor agreed to do our counseling together as a group. Our testing date was set. July 24th was the big day.
At 11:00 on July 24th, my brothers, my husband and I met at UT Southwestern. Unfortunately my sister, who lives in Austin, was unable to attend the counseling session with us. Our counselor went over everything regarding the BRCA mutation, and the potential problems it presents if you have the mutation. All three of us decided right then to be tested. We also all agreed to go into several research projects to help with future developments of the mutation.
We all went on a family vacation to Florida the following week. Our counselor then went on a three-week vacation so we had a small delay in getting our results. On August 22nd, I talked to the counselor and she said the results are in. My brothers went for their results that afternoon. One was positive, one was negative. My appointment was set for the next day.
On Friday, August 23rd, my husband and I found out that I was positive for the BRCA1 mutation. I knew going in what I would do if I were positive. I was not going to get cancer. Therefore, it was just a matter of finding the right doctors for the prophylactic double mastectomy with reconstruction, and the prophylactic complete hysterectomy surgery. I was determined to get the cancer before it got me. My brother probably said it best. He said I would be the first one in the family to actually beat this thing. I couldn't agree more.
Over the next several weeks, I met with the three surgeons. All three of them went over in great detail the surgeries and various options available to me for the surgeries. I was so pleased with each one of them. We had decided to do all three surgeries at the same time. The combined surgery would be 10 - 12 hours and the recovery would be hard, but I was young and determined that I only wanted to go through the surgery once. The reconstruction would involve a TRAM flap/implant combination. My surgery was scheduled for November 6, 2002.
There were a few people who questioned my, so-called "radical decision" about the surgeries. Oddly enough, the majority of them were men. They couldn't understand why someone who "might" get this disease would go through the extreme measures of this surgery instead of just monitoring the situation. It was obvious to me that they had no idea what it was like to have this hanging over your head. Their questioning never made me question my decision to have the surgeries.
The insurance portion of the process was a nightmare. I actually worked for my health insurance company for over 15 years. I know the contract language well and immediately saw the exclusion for prophylactic surgery, which was exactly what I was doing. I had each one of the surgeons write a letter explaining the BRCA mutation, the family history and the potential costs involved if the surgery was not performed. During the late month of September and the entire month of October was just a stressed out waiting game. I knew if the insurance company did not pay for it, I would not be able to afford the surgery myself, therefore, I would not have the surgery.
On October 31st, exactly one week before my surgery, the insurance company called and said that they had made the "administrative" decision to pay for the surgery. I felt like the weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
I went in for the surgery on November 6th. After the surgery, I remember arriving in my room and seeing my dad and my husband standing there. Drugged up with numerous medications, I asked if everything went ok. I should have known something was wrong when they said everything was fine, but kept their backs to me.
My gynecologist oncologist had to immediately leave town after my surgery due to a family wedding therefore his associates were assigned to due his rounds while he was away. I'll never forget the doctor's associate waking me up out of a morphine deep sleep to try and describe the painful news that they found something during surgery. I was trying to listen intently and trying to comprehend the facts that they were giving me. I remember finally saying "I have cancer?" The response I received was "Yes, you have ovarian cancer." (I've never liked that doctor. I guess I shot the messenger.)
When my oncologist came back in town, he sat down with me for a long time and explained everything to me. I was diagnosed with stage IIIC ovarian cancer. I had cancer in both ovaries, had fluid in my abdomen, had cancer on my omentum, and the cancer had spread to one lymph node. My CA125 was over 800. He felt it was an early stage IIIC diagnoses. My tumor was 4 or 5 cm, and they were able to get almost all the cancer during the surgery. He said there were "salt and pepper" spots left and felt the chemotherpy would take care of that. He did say, however, had 6 more months gone by without finding the cancer, there would have been little that they would have been able to do.
While I was still in the hospital, a clinical trial nurse came in to discuss a chemotherapy trial that I qualified for. It was a trial that involved five different options of chemotherapy you could get. It was randomly selected to determine which arm, or option you were put on. Four of the options involved the normal chemotherapy drugs for ovarian cancer with an additional drug on top of it. The monitoring of the patients is greater if you are on the trial. I decided to do the clinical trial.
My chemotherapy began approximately three weeks after my surgery. The arm I was placed on involved the normal chemotherapy with an additional drug called Doxil. I was told the treatment was "very aggressive". I would receive 8 treatments of chemotherapy, once every three weeks. I went back into surgery for a mediport to be placed close to my shoulder for the chemotherapy to be given through. On the days of chemotherapy, I would begin my treatment at 9:00 am and would finish around 4 or 5:00 in the afternoon. It made for a long day.
The Chemotherapy was rough. It would suck the energy right out of me. It would not let certain wounds from the surgery heal and the ones that did heal would often open back up during certain treatments. At one point, I had a completely healed wound, and in one day, the chemo began to break down the healing from the inside, and all the sudden, left a "hole" in my stomach. That was tough to handle. The chemotherapy messes with your thought process (chemo brain), your vision, would make my bones hurt on certain days, make my skin hurt to the touch, on top of making you feel, just overall, crummy.
Although the chemotherapy was nearly killing me, I knew it was killing the cancer as well. My CA125 was dropping quickly. After my second chemo treatment, it had dropped below the magic number of 35. Remember I was at 800+ during surgery. Today my CA125 continues to drop and is currently at 11.6. I currently have three chemo treatments left.
The support I received from family and friends was amazing. It began from the first day I was in the hospital and it continues today. Superhero is what one article calls them. I received well wishes from every direction, numerous flower arrangements, meals for months, pajamas, slippers, clothes with elastic waists due to the surgery incision, books, note pads, house cleaning. The list goes on and on. I had family come in from out of state for every chemotherapy session. They would stay for weeks at a time. I think I was on every prayer list there was. It's truly astonishing. And then there was my husband and children, who had remained so strong and supportive throughout this process. They were wonderful. How do I ever thank everyone enough?
Although my life has been turned upside down and inside out, believe it or not, I am an extremely lucky woman. Why?
- I was notified of the potential BRCA status from relatives I had not talked to in 20+ years. How amazing is that?
What if they would have never sent me this information? By sharing this information, they literally saved my life. Knowledge is Power. It gave me the ability to go out and make educated decisions that I never would have known to make without that knowledge.
- I feel somebody is watching over me. What possessed me to open up that packet on that magical April day?
- Had my insurance company denied covering the surgery, I never would have had it. I feel that the "administrative decision" to cover the surgery also saved my life.
- I never questioned what surgeries would be done if the test came back positive. I just knew what had to be done. What gave me the courage and determination?
Had all of these things not gone exactly right, I currently would be pretty close to that 6-month mark. It scares me to think that at this time, it is probable that a doctor would currently be telling me that I had cancer and there is nothing they can do about it. I have two small kids. It makes my heart ache to think my boys could be losing their Mommy right now.
I know my battle with this cancer will not be an easy one. It will continue to test me in various ways, but at the moment, I know I'm winning. I will continue to be determined and will not give up without a fight! I owe this to my family and myself."
-Donna Lackey
Shortly before the 2003 Walk For The Whisper, the Grapevine Sun newspaper ran an article
about Donna Lackey (above story). Two very special girls, named Alyxx and Megan, 12 years of age, saw the article. They are best
friends and their mothers are friends of Donna. Alyxx and Megan took a copy of the article, pasted it to
a piece of paper, and began going around collecting donations for the NOCC. This was done entirely on their own,
of their own initiative. And these two girls raised more than $500 for the NOCC. We are all very, very proud
of these two girls and the spirit they showed! At the age of 12 they have already made a difference in the
awareness of ovarian cancer in their community!
"For seven months I had tried to get someone to listen to my cries for relief from a medical problem.
A doctor in Phoenix put me on hormone replacement therapy. After my numerous phone calls, he said I was bloated because
I was on the wrong dosage of HRT. Then, two months before diagnosis, our family was transferred to Dallas. I had finally
found a position as a Technical Writer, and felt like I was finally going to become part of this city. I was excited -
except for a gnawing problem in my body. I looked 9 1/2 months pregnant and had to rely on my stubbornness for any energy.
I pushed and prodded to find someone who would help a newcomer. After a vaginal sonogram and CT, Dr. Fine appeared like an
angel at my hospital bed. My reaction was "Finally, someone is going to do something about this!" I was diagnosed with
Stage IV ovarian cancer in December of 2000. The next day he performed a 9.5 hour debulking surgery. Besides a hysterectomy
and oophrectomy, my colon was removed so I am now the owner of an ileostomy. The easiest way to describe what was taken
out of me is to say almost the only things left in me were those I needed for survival.
After 2.5 years of mostly weekly infusion chemotherapy, I am proud to say that I'm now in a Phase I Clinical Trial
through the Cancer Therapy and Research Center in San Antonio. I only take pills on a daily basis! So far the side
effects are minimal, and has improved my "quality of life" tremendously. My last CTs showed tumors in my lower R lung -
hence my breathing problems. This clinical trial has given me new hope - and I'm still fighting!"
- Lesley Schiraldi
 "My name is Kitna Armstrong and I LIVE with cancer. I was first diagnosed January 16, 2001 with epithelial endometroid-type ovarian
cancer - Stage I, Grade I, and Uterine Stage I Grade I. I received no chemotherapy but did have another exploratory surgery
within 4 months after my hysterectomy to look for signs of cancer. My first recurrence was April of 2004. The cancer had
spread to my liver (5 tumors), lungs (11 tumors), abdominal 13cm tumor that spread to my colon. I had 4 rounds of adriamycin,
carboplatin, and taxol. The liver and lung tumors were gone and I was able to have debulking surgery and a colon resection.
Four more chemo treatments and I was considered in remission! What a miracle! My second recurrence was November of 2005 (liver
and lungs again) and I am presently undergoing chemotherapy and I am responding to the treatment. This is my blessing.
"I think it is important to know that I have done a lot of "living" since my diagnosis. I have gotten married to the most wonderful
supportive man I have ever known. I have wonderful children and 2 precious grandchildren. My grandson is age 5, talks of nothing
except being a Doctor "Oncologist". My type "A" personality has slowed down but this has been a good thing. I was drawn to "hurry"....
it makes us feel important and keeps the adrenaline pumping so we don't have to look too closely to our hearts or feelings of
loneliness. Cancer slows my world and gives me solitude. Priorities become orderly, directions clear, and new strength emerges!
"This is hard to express in words....the most important thing for me is knowing the "joy" of each moment. When I was diagnosed with
my first recurrence and things looked so bad I vowed to use each good day. Joyfulness is a learned skill and we are exercising our
ability to see and feel God's goodness in things we wouldn't have noticed before! Without cancer I might still be waiting for that
day in the future to rejoice and be grateful...with cancer today is the day!!
"One of my favorite Bible verses is "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" PS 118:24.
- Kitna Armstrong
"On June 6th, 2000, a bolt of lightning struck me and
totally changed my life. I was diagnosed with Stage IIIc ovarian cancer. I went from skipping through life with a great job,
a busy family, and doing lots of extra meaningless things, to the world of no job, no hair, and worse yet no eyelashes, and no
independence. After a few months of reeling back and looking at the beautiful family I have and good medical care, I finally
stood up and began to appreciate everything, and I mean everything. I drew my children and grandchildren closer to me as well
as friends, I started to plant flowers, travel, delight in each day and to interact with other ovarian cancer survivors.
"I recurred 6 months after finishing my first round of treatments and had another round at that time. Two years ago my CA 125 started
to rise again and MD Anderson put me on shots of Lupron every 3 months. It is experimental with ovarian cancer but is used
for breast and prostate cancer. It is a hormone blocker. My CA 125 has dropped, but not to a normal range. So I guess you can
call this a recurrence. My doctor is just trying to hold back actual chemo as long as possible.
"So, no, I am not in remission but receiving treatment for my "chronic" disease. I read all I can about new treatments and options. I
laugh more, cry more, and don't listen to trivial gripes and complaints of others. It is good to be alive and looking forward to
each day, no matter how many more of them I have, I will make the most of each of them. At first I prayed for one more Christmas,
now I have had many of them. No one knows what is ahead of them, with or without ovarian cancer. You get the message, live each day
and enjoy each minute!"
- Colleen Wallace
 "It seems appropriate to begin with a little "back story". On March 6, 2001 I had a routine colonoscopy. The test showed no problems
with the colon. However, for the next three months I felt bad - it seemed to begin with severe dehydration that led to a couple
of fainting spells and a trip to the emergency room. Subsequently, my temperature would hover around 99 most days and sometimes go up to
about 100. On April 11, 2001 I saw my internist because I had pain in my back, left side, and lower abdomen. The doctor couldn't
find anything specifically wrong, but concluded that my pain was real and it was possibly the beginning of a urinary tract infection. He
gave me a prescription for Cipro which caused me to have an almost perpetual upset stomach. I continued to feel bad...I couldn't put
my finger on why, but generally felt bad physically and gradually began feeling depressed. I cried at the drop of a hat for no apparent
reason. On May 7, 2001 I called my gynecologist who had consistently done extensive and expensive tests on previously diagnosed uterine
fibroids (without actually doing anything to solve the problem). On this occasion she wouldn't even talk with me, much less see me and
conveyed a message to call my "regular doctor". At that point I did call my internist's office...to get the name of another gynecologist!
"After one appointment this new gynecologist determined that something really was wrong and scheduled an appointment for an ultrasound. It
seemed that those fibroids the other doctor had been "tracking" were rather large, as was the uterus. By that time I could feel a hard mass, especially
when I was lying down. On May 31, 2001 I had the ultrasound and the doctor really did not like what he saw - he recommended a
hysterectomy as soon as we could get it scheduled. The surgery occurred on June 11, 2001 and was done by one of the best gynecological
oncologist surgeons in the Richmond area. My new gynecologist assisted. The surgeon told me that he got all he could see - removing the ovaries, uterus, tubes, appendix, and a "roll of fat" (the
omentum). He also said he couldn't give me a 100% guarantee but he believed I would be okay, given the fact I was in good health otherwise. My diagnosis
was that of Stage IIIC.
"The worst was yet to come....my first oncologist said that without chemotherapy there was no hope and with chemo I might live a year or two or three.
I was flabbergasted...I had gone from believing I was healthy overall to being at death's door in no time. When I questioned his comment he back-peddled a bit,
saying well maybe it would be five or ten years, he really didn't know. So I told him that I was a minister, I dealt in hope, and if
God wanted me to live, I would live! He didn't have an answer for that one!
"Encouraged by my sister-in-law, who told me not to give in...that I could beat this, I made up my mind to fight! It turned out to be a
very large fight that included making the choice to put my health ahead of problems in the church I was pastoring that could have been
solved by the Elders if they had been willing to try instead of just blame me. When it became obvious that, perhaps a half dozen people were
intent on blaming me for problems I did not create in the first place I decided to resign my position as minister and concentrate on
getting well enough to move back to Texas where my children and my home were located.
"My experience made me quite leery of congregations - and my subsequent lack of employment hasn't completely erased those feelings! I did work for the
better part of a year (prior to my first recurrence) as a housing counselor at the Ft Worth Housing Authority. Although I felt good about working
(at first) and made some very good friends among my co-workers, I realized that my spiritual and emotional well-being was as
important (if not more) as bringing home a paycheck.
"Gradually, I have accepted the fact that I may not ever again have even a part-time paying position in the ministry. But as long as I have opportunities
to do pulpit supply, an occasional wedding or funeral, and various volunteer activities that are related to the ministry, I will still feel
productive and needed. This took a very long time to process and accept, but I am more content now than I was at first.
"Since I am currently being treated for my third recurrence, I see one of my biggest challenges is to stay positive and not think of myself
as a cancer victim, but as a person living with cancer. I am determined not to let cancer define me, but to find meaning in my
life as one of God's servants in the world. The last time I saw my oncologist I greeted him with one of my smarty-pants comments and
he responded something to the effect that I still had that attitude. When I asked him if that was a good thing, he said yes!
"I have made a Darryl Worley song my theme song. It is called "I Will Hold My Ground". The chorus goes like this, "I will not back down when
you push me to the wall expecting me to fall. I will not give in. I am not afraid to fight for what I know is right. I can only
take so much and when I've had enough it's not in my blood to just lay down. I will hold my ground!"
- Elizabeth "Liz" Lamberth
 "I was diagnosed in October of 1998 with Stage IIIB ovarian cancer that had spread in a strange way that the entire tumor board of
Presbyterian Hospital had never seen. I was given no official prognosis. I have had no recurrences and all my tests have been
clean. I will be having a CT scan once a year and early this year my oncologist released me.
"I can think of many positives that have come out of my experience with cancer. It's hard to know where to begin so the
thoughts may not be in any coherent order - just as they come to me.
- The biggest gift I gained other than survival itself was a renewed relationship with my only sister. We had not
been close for many, many years after having a close childhood and my heart had hurt at missing that for a long
time. We are now closer than ever and we know you must show people that you
care while they are here to care about. If I had to go through cancer to get her back into my life and my
heart then there was a good reason to go through it. Afterwards I realized that if we open ourselves up
to the broader possibility of cause and effect, we may see that there is some reason for us experiencing
something horrible and painful so that we may receive a special life gift through it.
- I finally learned to get my personal priorities straight after a lifetime of deferring to everyone else's needs
and wishes I now am able to focus on what's best for me, what's right for me, what I want to do.
In my own case, being more selfish is a good thing. I'm totally excited that I can now say no to people
when I never could before!
- Behavior modification. Prior to cancer I had exactly two speeds to my existence - High and Off. I was either
totally on/hyper/fast or I was totally off/crashing/slow. There was no in-between. It was an exciting
life but a very taxing one. It took me a lot of therapy after my chemo was finished but now I can actually function
on Low or Medium and even appreciate the two! ( I hope this makes sense. )
- For me, one of the biggest gifts was learning that many of my life-long thought processes/philosophies/regimens were
right on target. I received confirmation of the good things I'd been doing because they helped me survive.
Some of those things are:
- Extremely balanced eating habits incorporating a wide variety of foods routinely
- Being very in tune with my body and its normal/abnormal functioning and listening closely to it
- Believing that the bad experiences in life give us the ability to recognize and appreciate the
good experiences and they prepare us to handle other bad experiences in our lives
- Being stubborn, strong-willed and highly opinionated helped me to survive so now I have a really good
excuse for being that way!
- Expressing my love for people has always been second nature to me. I am now so glad that I have always expressed it
so that nobody would have ever missed out on knowing about it and it feels even better to express it now that
I know that we all could have missed out if I had not survived. Let the love flow - it's a good thing!!!
- I've come to understand my past with a greater clarity which I think is really good. I think it all had a purpose and
I believe that having cancer was something I was supposed to experience - for whatever reasons - and therefore
I have learned to embrace it. It stunk - don't get me wrong, and I would never wish it on my worst enemies even -
but I see it as something that I had to go through and accept that part of my life as much as any other part, good
or bad."
-Nancy Windrow-Pearce
 "I was 22 when I found out that I had ovarian cancer in December of 1995. It
was a total surprise and I didn't even know what it was! As in most cases, ovarian cancer didn't clearly state its presence.
It was hiding behind something else (in my case, an umbilical hernia) and in order to find the cancer, the hernia had to be
taken care of first. With the watchful eye of a careful general surgeon, the cancerous ovary and cyst were discovered.
"It started during the first semester of graduate school at Texas Tech - something was wrong with my tummy, making my belly button bulge out. I went
home over Thanksgiving and to the doctor for what turned out to be an umbilical hernia. At that point we scheduled outpatient
surgery for the next month as soon as I got home from final exams. I was told that this surgery would be relatively pain-free and not
a big deal. Boy, was I in for a surprise!! As my surgeon began the procedure to fix my hernia, he noticed something strange with
my abdomen - it didn't sink in when I was on my back like a normal abdomen. Luckily, he took the time to investigate it and removed a cyst that
weighed over 20 pounds (we don't know the exact weight because the scale only went up to 20 pounds). It was determined that
I had Stage IA Grade 2 mucinous cystadenocarcinoma of the ovary. As you can imagine, the surgery took longer than expected,
my parents were worried sick, and I woke up with much more pain than was promised to me earlier.
"Since the first surgery was performed by a general surgeon, we consulted a cancer specialist (oncologist) as soon as the lab results
were reported. The oncologist scheduled a second surgery immediately to check the other areas that could be affected, such as the
lymph nodes and other organs. No cancer was found elsewhere - hallelujah! I ended up staying in the hospital for a week, but made
it home on Christmas Eve. The best part of the whole week in the hospital was that I lost 30 pounds! Granted, its not the best way to
diet but if you have to go through ovarian cancer and you have some spare pounds, why not lose a little weight on the way?
"I recovered enough to return to school in January without missing a beat, although lightening my load to 2 graduate classes and recruiting
some friends to help with heavy lifting for a few weeks. I had to see my oncologist every 3 months at the beginning. Gradually, these
appointments moved to every 4 months, then every 6 months, then finally to once a year. I have had no other occurrences of cancer
during the past 10 years and have been healthy.
"We all know that ovarian cancer has some common everyday symptoms of other minor problems for which you normally might not seek medical
help. I personally did not notice anything other than weight gain that seemed to be centered in my abdomen, which I attributed to
insufficient exercise and some stress from beginning my master's degree. In my case, I was lucky to have had a hernia because that
was the key to finding my ovarian cancer. Had that not been the case, it could have been a much worse situation. My situation is not the norm
in ovarian cancer, the silent killer. I was lucky - I never had chemo and my cancer was intact. I am thankful that my general surgeon
took the time to investigate when something seemed strange to him and that I live in an area with oncologists who specialize in women's cancer.
"I am working to spread the word about ovarian cancer, to all women including young women such as myself. We need to find a reliable test
to detect ovarian cancer early. Catching this disease early gives you a better chance to live life to its fullest and beat ovarian
cancer. I want everyone to tell a friend today about ovarian cancer and spread the word to encourage research and awareness."
- Jennifer Carlson
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