My disease was anything but silent, but for a long time no one heard.

In 1998, I suddenly developed pain, spasms, severe diarrhea, weight gain specifically around my belly, bloating, and gas. I was very tired and short of breath. I was referred to a gastroenterologist. He thought I might have Crohn’s Disease, but was not totally certain even after tests.

I told the gastroenterologist that I had a vivid dream that I had cancer in my belly and I was concerned. He dismissively told me that I did not have cancer. There would be no further discussion of this matter because it was clear that he was the trained expert, and I was only the patient. He told me that if only I would continue long term use of high doses of steroids and the many other drugs he prescribed, each of which made me much sicker than I was before, I would be fine. He didn’t know the cause of the symptoms but that was not important. If I would simply be a compliant patient and take the drugs he prescribed, I would be well he said. But I knew something was very wrong.

Tests at another large clinic in January, 2001, showed “no evidence of Crohn’s Disease,” even though the symptoms remained. In late 2002 a colorectal specialist emphatically told me that I didn’t look like someone with Crohn’s Disease, even though the symptoms persisted.

At no time did anyone, including my primary physician or my ob-gyn ever suggest that my symptoms of diarrhea, pain, bloating, weight gain, fatigue and shortness of breath could all be signs of ovarian cancer, or that I should be tested for it. I did always, with every physician, make clear that cancer and death from cancer was prevalent in my maternal side of the family. That information was always dismissed because neither of my parents or siblings had cancer yet.

In fact, intuitively, one year before I was diagnosed, I asked for a CA-125 blood test from my ob-gyn while having my annual pap test. I had no knowledge of the symptoms of ovarian cancer, but I had heard that this was the tumor marker for ovarian cancer. I did know that my pap smear would tell me nothing about ovarian cancer. The scheduling receptionist told me that they would be happy to give me the test, but that I should be aware that no insurance company would pay for it. I asked the cost; it was $106 and I decided I should not spend the money at that time.

Finally, in late February of 2003 I saw my general practitioner for persistent pain in my chest. X-rays suggested lung cancer. A chest CAT scan ruled out lung tumors, but the fluid did test positive for cancer. An abdominal CAT scan showed massive cancer, and for the first time, I was given a CA-125 blood test. A normal reading is 0 – 30. Mine read 443.

This was 4 – ½ years after my symptoms appeared.

I was diagnosed with stage IV cancer; the oncologist suggested that we start with chemotherapy because surgery may be dangerous with the fluid in my lung, and that the cancer was so advanced that recovery would be too brutal for me.

Fortunately, he did want me to see a gynecologic-oncologist for his opinion. The gyn-oncologist thought we should proceed with surgery, so that with tissue he could determine if ovarian cancer was the primary or not, which would then determine the best course of treatment. He would not be able to get it all, but wanted to get as much as possible. Also, with surgery first, I could participate in the clinical trials of chemotherapy treatments. I immediately agreed to this and felt confident that this was the right choice. The surgery was a success and he was able to get everything he could see. Ovarian cancer was confirmed.

Once the cancer had spread to my lungs and I was being correctly diagnosed the compassion, communication and sensitivity from everyone involved was a huge factor in my being able to absorb, understand and deal with the diagnosis. The doctors communicated openly and honestly with me, which allowed me to have confidence in their treatment and care, and allowed me to concentrate my own energies on healing.

As a participant in the clinical trials, I received 8 treatments, 21 days apart. The first four consisted of 3 consecutive treatment days of carboplatin, and the third day added topotecan. The second four treatments consisted of one day of carboplatin and taxol. I tolerated the treatments fairly well, except for peripheral neuropathy and only had to delay one treatment by one day due to low absolute neutriphils/white count. Again, the compassion of caregivers, especially the chemo nurses, was an important part of my healing.

I completed chemo my initial treatment in August, 2003, and in October labs and cat scans were normal.

My first three month checkup in December, 2003 however showed a raised tumor marker, and so I began chemotherapy again, and have been continuing the fight ever since.

I’ve had several surgeries to control the fluid buildup in my pleural and pericardial cavities, and a surgery for bowel obstruction.

I have consistently believed that I am a cancer survivor, not a cancer victim. My involvement with MOCA has been a huge motivating and encouraging factor in my treatment and survival. I have come to know and love many wonderful sister-warriors who are also battling ovarian cancer, and the staff of MOCA is extremely supportive of all of us.

I have never felt alone throughout this experience. I have felt surrounded by love, prayer and support throughout this journey, and I mean literally surrounded as if it is tangible protection. Although I have a Christian faith, I have welcomed prayers offered in Native American sweat lodge purification ceremonies, the prayers of friends of all faiths, meditation of friends surrounding me with healing light and energy, and the carved Buddha blessed by a Tibetan monk given to me to hold during chemotherapy. As one person told me, he was astounded “by the depth and breadth” of my support. All of this hope and love and support made it possible for me to welcome the medical treatments as my healing experience.

Healing of the physical body I believe comes secondary to healing of the spirit. Feeling hope is the most powerful medicine.

I start every day with prayers of gratitude. My family and friends and I now always say “I love you” when we part. I live in the present moment, with fewer thoughts of the past and of the future. I have let go of any relationships, clients or other situations that bring negativity. I am in love with life, because it is very precious.

View All Survivor Stories >