Blessed by Cancer

After eleven-plus years of fighting Stage 3 ovarian cancer, I realize that my life has been truly enriched by this battle.

My intention in penning these words is to give encouragement to women who are new to the cancer battle, or who have been in the battle for a while and find their energy and optimism failing. Since I’ve fought and survived longer than most, perhaps I can provide some insight and encouragement to boost a woman’s determination and resolve to continue the fight. I’ve had days when I felt that any way out of this battle would be a relief, but somehow I reach deep inside and pull up the will to keep on fighting.

Diagnosis
I was diagnosed with Stage 3, class B cell ovarian cancer in April of 1999. At the time, I was the principal of a growing high school and stress was my way of life, day and night. Ten-hour days are the norm for high school principals. There is always a game, a performance or a meeting that requires a time commitment. I came to the principalship late in my career, after 12 years as an English teacher, two years as a guidance counselor, six years as an assistant principal, and three years as a curriculum supervisor. My five years as a principal were followed by two years as a director of secondary education. I retired from public school work in 2003 and immediately went to work teaching in the Graduate School of Education at a small Baptist college, Gardner-Webb University. As of May 2010, I have officially retired again and am enjoying my newfound freedom. Through the past eleven-plus years, I have had periods of wellness and periods of illness with the disease, but I have been able to continue working through four surgeries and 60+ chemotherapy treatments.

The Symptoms
Like most women who are diagnosed with ovarian cancer, my symptoms were indefinite and benign. My stomach was distended; I had alternating rounds of diarrhea and constipation; and I was tired all the time. A sonogram, ordered by my gynecologist, Dr Pierre Martimbeau, revealed nothing out of the ordinary. As the symptoms persisted and at my husband’s insistence, I asked for a referral to a gastro-internist, who ordered a CT scan. I was really shocked when she reported to me that “you may have ovarian cancer and you need to see your gynecologist immediately.” My gynecologist, Dr. Martimbeau, is also a surgeon and oncologist. He performed a total hysterectomy on me on April 12, 1999. The pathology report indicated that the disease had spread to five places in the abdominal cavity and that several lymph nodes were involved. While Dr. Martimbeau has never given me anything but a positive prognosis, a little research on the internet informed me that the average survival time for Stage 3 ovarian cancer was two years. My advice to anyone with a life-threatening disease is not to put much faith into averages. I’ve never wanted to be average, anyway.

Advice
Another piece of advice to anyone facing a serious illness is to have as much fun as you can when you can. When my husband and I heard the initial cancer diagnosis, we were planning a trip to Key West. My first question to Dr. Martimbeau was, “Can I still go on my trip?” He replied that a few days would not make a difference. We spent several days in Key West and flew back into Charlotte on a Sunday afternoon. We went straight to the hospital where I was checked in and prepped for surgery on Monday morning. Since that time, I’ve taken numerous beach trips and even a trip to Greece and Rome. As I said earlier, I continued to work until recently because I really enjoyed it. Only this year did I decide that it was time to retire and draw that long-promised Social Security. I’m enjoying having lunch with friends, playing bridge during day light hours, and reading the many books that I had planned to read over my working years.

Treatment
Over the many years of my cancer battle I have had periods of wellness. After the initial surgery, I had nine monthly treatments of cisplatin and cytoxan, followed by three monthly treatments of carboplatin and cytoxan. For two years I was seemingly cancer free. I had frequent CA125 tests to check the antigen count, which is a reaction to cancer. My numbers on the CA125 have always been relatively low, from 6 to 132 most recently. A healthy score is ten or below, but some women score in the thousands. The CA125 is not an appropriate diagnostic tool because there is no scale for comparison. A woman with a 50 reading may be just as ill as a woman with a 3,000 reading. It’s a very individual test that a doctor must watch diligently.

It’s Back
In May of 2002 an increase in my CA125 indicated that exploratory surgery was needed. The pathology report showed recurrent ovarian cancer with implants in the mesentery of the small bowel and cul de sac. For me, this was the hardest point in my cancer fight; I let myself have a good cry and pity party, but that didn’t last long. With the return of the cancer, I realized that I was in a war, not just a battle. I thought I had beaten the enemy, but it was back. I had taken the treatment and suffered through the side effects of chemotherapy, primarily nausea and fatigue. (Amazingly, I’ve never lost my hair, although it is quite thin now.) I took twelve more monthly treatments of carboplatin and cytoxan, finishing with at good CA125 score in May of 2003. In June of 2003, I retired from 30 years as a public school educator and accepted a job teaching in the graduate program in education at Gardner-Webb University in Boiling Springs, NC. Working with adult educators who were pursuing masters and doctorates in education was a very fulfilling adventure for me.
Again, I appeared to be cancer free until July 2005. A high CA125 called for eight more monthly treatments of the same chemicals that had worked before, carboplatin and cytoxan. From January to November 2006, I appeared to be healthy, but then a high CA125 required six more treatments of carboplatin and cytoxan. CA125 readings were normal for three months, but a high CA125 in June meant four more months of the same regimen. This time I had nine months of wellness, but had to resume chemotherapy in June 2008 for nine more treatments, ending in February 2009. With a high CA125 in May 2009, my doctor and I were faced with the decision of continuing chemotherapy or doing more surgery to better assess the situation. I chose the more aggressive approach of surgery in June of 2009. The abdominal exploration showed a 2.5 cm tumor in the right gutter, which was positive for recurrent ovarian cancer. The plan was for me to resume chemotherapy, but other factors intervened. On July 22 I was hospitalized with a small bowel obstruction. I really wanted to avoid more surgery, but by early August it was obvious that I would have to have more surgery. Dr. Scott Fowler performed the small bowel surgery on August 7, 2009. He diagnosed a frozen abdomen and did not give an encouraging prognosis. I could not eat and had to have TPN feedings at home through a PICC line from July through October of 2009. This time Dr. Martimbeau ordered a change in my chemotherapy. I took six months of carboplatin, but added gemzar, which was supposed to be taken three times a month. My blood count was never high enough to allow three treatments within the month, so I had two. Because my CA125 has continued to climb, I am currently taking monthly treatments of Taxotere. Six have been ordered, which should have me finishing them in August of 2010. Chemotherapy and alternating periods of wellness and sickness have become a way of life, but I still have more good days than bad days.

More Advice
As I said earlier, I advise the soldier in the cancer battle to have as much fun as she can when she can. My chemotherapy treatments are done in Dr. Martimbeau’s office and administered by his nurse, Emily Lowery. She has the perfect personality for a chemo nurse. She’s positive, lively, and upbeat. I have numerous friends who have taken me for treatment. They frequently call and volunteer for the trip to Charlotte because chemo is really a lot of fun. The week thereafter is not much fun, but the day of treatment there’s always a lot of laughter in the office. My “driver” and I always go to lunch after treatment and sometimes do a little shopping. I’m home by 3:00 pm and usually feel well for a couple of days. The side effects start on the third day for me and last about a week. Currently, my primary side effect is fatigue. Knowing this is coming, I lay in a stock of old movies and books with big print. The chemicals do seem to affect my reading ability. My husband gave me a Kindle electronic book reader for Christmas, and I’ve enjoyed being able to download current books and make the print as big as I need it.

And More Advice…
Having a disease like ovarian cancer provides an opportunity to assess one’s life and determine where one may need to do a little fence mending. Both my parents died with cancer, my father with lung and my mother with breast. I have one sister and, while we were never at odds with each other, we were never very close. The disease has brought us closer together. We don’t live in the same town, but we are close enough to visit. We talk by telephone daily or at least every other day. We’ve discovered how much alike we are in our thinking and how lucky we are to have had the parents we had and to grow-up in a small town with so many caring people around us.
In addition to mending human relationships, cancer affords an opportunity to think about one’s relationship to God. I grew-up as a Christian and have continued to practice that faith, but being seriously ill puts new meaning into those prayers and rituals than can sometimes become rote. A fellow cancer soldier came to see when her cancer returned and wanted me to explain to her how I could believe in God. That’s not something I could or 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 time to go. I credit Him, my medical care givers, and my own stubbornness for my long survival with this disease.

The Blessings
I entitled this piece “Blessed by Cancer” and I truly believe that I have been. I have been blessed with more friends than I realized that I have. They have driven me to treatment, visited me at home and in the hospital, brought me food, and supported me in every way possible. My biggest supporter has been my husband of 45 years, Ray. He has been with me every step of the way from connecting up my IVs, giving me shots, driving me here and there, and pushing me at times when my will was lagging. All of this has not been without a few testy words from both of us, but no one has been privileged to have more love than I have. My sons, Craig and Chris, their wives Joanie and Aubrey, and my beautiful grandchildren, Jason, Hollie, and Lillie, have been wonderfully supportive too. They have provided visits, phone calls, cards, prayers, and unquestionable love.
When I think about this eleven-plus year cancer war, I realize that even with the down times, the surgeries, and the chemotherapy side effects, that I’ve gained many blessings out of the experience. This cancer is mine, no one else’s. I’ve worked on it, I own it, and I’m going to keep fighting it as long as God allows me to do so.