Continue reading »]]> Ovarian Cancer snuck 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 wrong.

My diagnosis came on March 17, 2006 my left ovary and fallopian tube was removed. When I woke up from sugary, 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. Chemotherapy sucked but it was manageable. I had three twenty-one day cycles of the worst chemo drugs imaginable BEP (Etopiside, Bleomycin and Cisplatin).

Don’t get me wrong I had some pretty rough days; depression and anxiety are to be expected, and I was no exception. 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, a cure was extremely likely, the treatment had been easier than I expected… But it still sucked! For me, I was grieving the loss of an ovary (and possibly 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. That’s when I discovered advocacy.

Advocacy has given me a tool to continue fighting this disease, not only for me but for those women who have lost their battles, those who may be at risk and who are fighting. 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, advocates of ovarian cancer are educating women and some healthcare providers about ovarian cancer, changing public policy, raising research dollars and making a difference!

Through this thing called ovarian cancer my world has become broader. I’ve been given a gift. I’ve had the opportunity to do a television interview, I’ve written several articles, blogged and even contemplated writing a book. I’m a board member of the Georgia Ovarian Cancer Alliance (yes the same organization that did the Lunch & Learn); I’ve attended the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance conference two years in a row and numerous health fairs and spoken at numerous support groups. I’m part of the world in a bigger way than I ever been before. For whatever reasons, my diagnosis was merely a bump on my life’s highway.  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.