At age 61, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, stage4C. Within hours, my ovaries, uterus, omentum, gall bladder and part of my spleen were removed. I went through the grueling months of chemo, including carboplatin. Many complications, numerous hospital stays, side effects I wasn't warned to expect, and lots of questions unanswered, all added up to a most confusing year. The most important thing I would say to someone just beginning that journey is this: You are the leader of your own survival team. You are the only person who is there 24/7, and the one from whom all others must gather information to give you the best outcome possible. It sometimes feels odd to women to focus so much on ourselves, and difficult to ask for help. We are usually in the role of giving help. But cancer is a great equalizer, and opens areas we never knew we had. Don't deny those who love you the opportunity to reverse roles, and take the lead if they don't. Most people want to help, but many don't know how to begin. Start small, ask for a glass of juice or help getting out of bed. You will probably be pleasantly surprised. After 7 years of remission, during which I had varying degrees of fog, fatigue, insomnia, neuropathy of several types and areas, and during which I had seen improvement in most areas, my labs showed that the cancer was active again. Remember, ovarian is considered incurable, and the magic five year point means nothing to us. But to survive, even thrive, after that 4C factor, is a triumph. In those years, new drugs were developed, even the treatment cycles changed, and it was a new experience for me. But, whoa! I had a terrible reaction to carboplatin, a life-threatening one, on the first treatment. Adjustments have been made, I'm bald again, and after 7 months my labs indicate I am once again in remission. I just turned 70! I live alone, far from my children, and must drive over 60 miles one way to get treatment (two weeks on, one off), I fear another recurrence, still have to get treatments at least through this year and wonder if that will make it more likely I will have a reaction in the future. But I watch my antioxidant-focused diet, sleep anytime I feel like it, listen to my body and realize how lucky I am. In the treatment center, I visit with people with more disorders than I ever heard of before. They often seem like family. I'm trying hard to keep from turning every conversation to my complaints, or my victories. I share gardening info with some, plants with a nurse, banter with my doctor, recipes with one sweet man. Life after CA can be rewarding. I believe my chance of surviving another 10 or 15 years is greatly influenced by my overall appreciation of life every day. I'm so tired, it amazes me that I've written this, and after a long walk in the woods at that! One big point I would like to touch is how individual each of us is, and how differently we experience our fates. I feel less like a sissy after reading your comments, and I hope all of you remember to be kind to your mind and body. This isn't sissy stuff, it's noble suffering for the cause!
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