The Three C’s ….. Covid, Cancer, Colostomy

This post was actually written in September 2021 but it somehow got lost in the shuffle. I will continue with the rest of the story in my next post in summer 2022. 

It’s been a crazy ride since my last post of 2019. Little did I know then how relevant Sherry McAllister’s words would become – once again - only a few months later (see previous post). I never thought anything could take my mind away from the ever-present and daily watch for symptoms of a cancer recurrence. But I was wrong.

So, what has happened since my last post? Well, I recurred that same year, with symptoms appearing in early November 2019. I did my due diligence and scheduled an appointment with my doctor for a consult and CT scan. The paperwork was sent but for some reason, even though I called every few weeks, that appointment for the scan did not happen.

I was still waiting for a date when Covid struck in early 2020. People in countries around the world were dropping like flies from this new and extremely potent virus. And it had arrived here in our Canada, soon making its way to our province. It was March and I was feeling no symptoms by then so, weighing my odds, I decided not to pursue it for a few months to give this epidemic a chance to ease up a bit.

Covid didn’t go away. And neither did my gut feeling that I was in a recurrence. I couldn’t procrastinate any further – the pain began again in June. I contacted my doctor again to schedule an appointment and this time speed was on my side. A scan in July confirmed my fears. It was back. At least two tumours this time. By August I was speaking with my Oncologist in Halifax, N.S. and discussing surgery. By September I was meeting with him in his office for the official consultation, my documentation of symptoms and timelines sent ahead via email. And then the wait began.

That's also the day that it was confirmed that my hemoglobin levels were extremely low. I had noticed that my BP level was at 50 (a very low diastolic reading) and when I did a bit of research, I discovered that it could be a sign of low blood levels. 

Definitely not normal. My oncologist had me provide blood samples prior to leaving the facility. By the time we arrived home, about 5 hours later, there was a message on my phone to immediately contact my physician to arrange a transfusion. Normal is 120 g/L to 180 g/L. My count was 57. By that evening I was getting my first of many units of blood (last count between the first and last was 12 units, not counting the 3 iron infusions. Too much in such a short period of time (less than 2 months)!

(Note: It took nearly a year following surgery, but my levels eventually increased to a normal level on their own.)

Covid threw a wrench in the scheduling plans. Changes were taking place to accommodate the new protocols for prevention. I called frequently for updates – the old squeaky wheel tactic – and was told that I was at the top of the list. But there’s not much benefit there when there are no slots available.

November arrived. I was hoping to get in and out before the winter storms began, but it wasn’t looking good. And then the call came ….. Monday, Nov 2nd, 2020. A cancellation. Could I be there for check-in on November 4th with surgery on November 5th? You betcha!!

This was my 6th surgery since 2002. The term ‘major surgery’ suddenly took on a new meaning. Up to this point, there was just the usual remove the tumours, seal me up, and send me home. Not to be this time. One of the tumours had attached itself to the bowel and, as the team informed me, because of all the previous handlings during surgeries, trying to separate the tumour from the bowel was not an easy task. Nor was it successful. The words Swiss cheese was used as a descriptive term for the condition of this section of my bowel.

And then the words colostomy and ‘permanent’ were introduced. Wait, did I hear that right? I had no idea. No one had mentioned it to me in recovery. They saved that little surprise for the oncologist and his surgical team to share.

Little did I realize at that point in time that the cancer concerns would fall to the wayside. I hadn’t been able to eat and blamed it on the hospital food – which, I must admit, I normally don’t mind. Just the thought of food made me feel ill. After 5 days post surgery, I became ill. No nausea or warning. Exorcist style sick. I couldn’t seem to make the nurses understand that there was something not right. That I needed to see my doctor. I’m not a nurse, but I knew that what was coming out was not normal. My body cooperated and provided one of the surgical team with a live display. And that’s when they took me seriously. 

The next day I was I was wheeled through the basement of several buildings to have a CT scan to see what was going on. No blockage, everything seemed to be moving along fine with the colostomy. Great news! However, the next scenario was that I possibly had a leak from the bowel. So much for the celebration. This was not a good thing at all. The next day I was traveling through the basement halls once again, but this time I went through the dangerous procedure of having drainage tubes inserted. Success.

I remained in hospital for a total of 24 days on a rigorous fluid and antibiotic regime. If this didn’t work, more surgery. Thankfully, everything came together in the end. I seriously don’t think I could have handled more surgery – either physically or mentally.

One of the changes that had been made when Covid had appeared was the transfer of nursing home residents to the hospitals. What had been rooms with two beds now contained four. And those beds were like revolving doors, with patients coming and going around me steadily. With the hospital open, visitors were steady. And so was the fear of Covid, not only by patients, but evident also in the faces of those caring for patients.  In mid November, Covid was running wild in Halifax. The hospital finally went into lockdown. What a relief! The restrictions remained in place for only a few days; however, it was a nice reprieve from the constant comings and goings of visitors. I do have to admit that sharing a room with that many people resulted in very little rest as there was no specific schedule adhered to and patients were moved in and out of the room at all times of the day or night. It ended up to be a very stressful few weeks.

The positive aspect of being in hospital for such a long period (if there even is such a thing) is that by the time I left, the incision had basically healed prior to getting in the car to head home. And if you’ve been in hospital for any length of time, you know that feeling of joy when you walk through the door. The colostomy, on the other hand, ended up being a blessing and a curse. Without it, I might not be here … with it, there are times when I wished that I wasn’t. Thankfully, with a lot of time and familiarity, I am doing better with this new addition to my life.  

Until next time …….

~ B-Optimistic 😊

                                            Four (4) months post surgery. 

Time Flies .....

Time flies. Seriously. My Mother always said that when you get older, it will go faster. When your Mom tells you something like this, you really should take it seriously. She was so right! I can’t believe that it’s already been nearly 10 months since my last blog post. I can’t say that it has ALL been fun though!

An update from my last post (and I apologize for my lateness with this task):

I enjoyed Christmas with family! That was an unexpected, but well accepted bonus. With surgery scheduled for January 5^th, I got to enjoy all of the festivities. I am not sure if that is the reason, but I do have to say that I was a real trooper this time. I stayed calm (well, somewhat calm) and went in with the attitude that ‘it is what it is’. I walked to the OR and sat patiently waiting for them to get things ready for ‘my turn’. The surgery itself was standard. Both tumours were removed – both easily – but unfortunately one of them ruptured, pretty much guaranteeing that this won’t be my last walk down that long hallway. ☹

My recovery in hospital, although not horrendous, was far from pleasant. I was a patient longer than hoped for as I had more complications than the previous 4 surgeries. I was assigned a different anesthesiologist (even though I asked for my usual guy) and I really do think that makes a difference. I ended up with kidney issues that thankfully were dealt with quickly and successfully, a touch of pneumonia, and an allergic reaction to the pain killer - which resulted in a longer hospital stay. I was in misery the whole time I was there. The hospital was too hot (even the nurses complained) and I do not handle heat well. I could not wait to leave. It was wonderful to be home, but once there, I developed what was believed to be two seromas, both requiring surgically inserted drainage tubes, another factor to slow my recovery time. Thankfully it was winter and I had no urge to step outside the door. It was two months before I could say that I felt human again. But I survived.

I am now doing OK now after 7 months and the tenderness is finally easing to the point where it is just occasional discomfort. Life is getting back to normal (well, whatever ‘normal’ is for a cancer survivor). Honestly, I really don’t remember what a normal life feels like …. I’ve spent way too long in this phase of my existence.

I was surprised to find that I have more anger after this last surgery. I am angry that I always have anxiety when a new ache or pain appears. I am angry that I will always have that threat of ‘return’ hanging over my head and angry that it also affects not only my life, but that of my children and grandchildren.

But, thankfully, I also have that optimism in the back of my mind … it’s just there … as it should be. Because there is always hope. I’m still alive. And it’s been 15 years. I have friends and acquaintances who have passed recently who only had months after their diagnosis. Life is not always fair. And I can’t help but wonder … why am I still here? Do I still have some mission that I haven’t accomplished yet? Some stone unturned? A goal that I set for myself when I came back as this persona – yes, I do believe that we return. 😉 Whatever it is, I will wait for it … and hope I recognize it when it happens. And for the record -  If optimism is what is keeping me here, then I guess I’m in it for the long haul!

The moral to this story? Enjoy your life. If my friends David, Dwain, Anna, Angus, Dave, and others were here, they would tell you the exact same thing. Don’t take anything for granted. Oh, and one more thing. My Mother was right, but with one exception …. Time does fly, but you don’t always get older to find that out. R.I.P. my friends.

Until next time …….

B-Optimistic  😊

GCT - The Saga Continues

Well, it became official a few weeks ago - following confirmation from a CT Scan - that I am once again facing a GCT recurrence. I went 4 years this time before the tell-tale pain in my side hit, but I was thrown off a bit because there had been no other cues - no persistent cough, no loss of appetite, no common symptoms at all. The pain lasted only long enough for me to make the decision to seek out medical attention, but has been absent since that time. So, for the past couple of months, I have lived life as usual, with nothing to slow me down. But the verdict is in, it is there, and it must come out.

I saw my Oncologist in Halifax, N.S. this past Thursday. We discussed the potential complications that could transpire with surgery - nothing different from previous pre-surgery discussions - but with each subsequent surgery, the risks do become magnified. I could have chosen the option to wait and watch, but in my mind that just increased the risks for when the time came that I did have to have the surgery. So onward we go!

Christmas this year will be spent either in hospital or at home recuperating from surgery, but that is fine. And this year my list to Santa is just a little different. Rather than asking him to bring me something, I am asking him to take something away!! Won't he be surprised! HOHOHO

Until next time ....
~ BOptimistic (in spite of it all) ~

I Really am Doing Fine ......

My three (3) year post surgery anniversary is coming up in mid September 2015. I'd like to forget that I’ve ever had cancer, but the thought really never does go away completely. Once you’ve had cancer, it is always quick to give you a fright. Every little ache or pain becomes magnified – like an echo in a barrel. But so far, so good! Right now I’m fine and still sticking by my ‘One day at a time’ motto … which goes hand in hand with my favourite saying, ‘It is what it is’. I remain optimistic in light of it all. The odds are good that GCT will pop up again, but that doesn’t mean it will. See! Optimism galore! ;-)

I can only assume that others who have been through their own struggles with cancer can share this - I expect it’s common. Lately I have noticed a little extra something when people I haven’t seen in awhile ask how I am doing. Perhaps it’s because I’ve had so many recurrences over the past 13 years. Whatever the reason, I answer this question with my normal, “I’m fine today. One day at a time, you know” accentuated with a smile. (I used to say, “I’m doing great!” until the 3^rd and 4^th recurrence. Then I figured I should add the ‘warning’.) ;-)

It’s nice that people are concerned and I do greatly appreciate that they ask. But what’s up with the intense look that some seem to give? It seems like they intentionally tilt their heads so they can look me directly in the eye, like they are trying to look deep in my soul to see if I’m telling the truth! And I feel obligated to repeat that I am, indeed, doing well. No need to worry, I’m fine. And ‘poof’.  Just like that the conversation has flipped from them being concerned about me to me being concerned that they are worried about me. Sometimes the feeling is so strong that I almost feel obligated to call them later to make sure THEY are OK! lol

But hey, that’s fine. I hope they don’t stop asking …. because as long as they do, that means they care (well, in most cases)! lol 

Until next time!

~ B-Optmistic ~

SEPTEMBER is OVARIAN CANCER AWARENESS month in Canada!!

Educate yourself.

Know the symptoms. 

Listen to what your body is telling you. 

I will be adding several posts throughout the month in an effort to provide information 

about Ovarian Cancer and help promote awareness.

Listen to what your body is telling you!

NOTE: This poster was created by Mellissa F who, like me, also has experience with GCT - 

aka Granulosa Cell Tumour - a rare form of Ovarian Cancer.

ONE MONTH YESTERDAY SINCE SURGERY!!

Taken two weeks after surgery with my two favourite little people!!! It was a very happy Thanksgiving!

AN UPDATE .... WITH A PLUS!!!!

It is hard to believe that it has been a whole month yesterday since I was in Halifax having major surgery to remove a tumour from my abdomen! But then there are times when it feels like several months have passed …. I guess because I have recovered so easily and quickly this time (knock on wood).  Over the past couple of weeks I have had such good days that only the scar reminds me of what I've been through.

I started driving again on Sunday morning; a short jaunt to a local restaurant to meet five of my BFF’s from high school for a catch up breakfast. My girls …. They are so supportive. It still amazes me that we can gather around a table and continue our conversations as if we just saw each other yesterday. Our relationships are so easy. I consider myself VERY fortunate to have these gals in my life. As we get older, our conversations have drastically changed – the topic of boyfriends and dances has turned into children, grandchildren, and the pitfalls of getting older. Well, I guess things do change after 37 years, right?? LOL

But I digress. I have some wonderful news that I have been dying to share with you!! My Oncologist called today with his follow up report. And I have been floating on Cloud 9 since that conversation. Let me tell you all about it …..

During surgery, my Oncologist had discovered 3 nodules near the same area where my tumour was located. Naturally, the foregone conclusion was that these nodules were probably the start of 3 more GCT’s, so just to confirm, one was snipped and the sample sent off to the lab for testing. Since the surgery, I have been saying numerous prayers that these little guys would take their good old time growing to a size large enough to remove surgically. Although I am normally an optimistic person and deal with this disease head on, on the night before this last surgery, I experienced an all time low mentally. I wanted to run away … not go through with it at all, but that was not an option. And just this morning when I first awoke, I lay there wondering how long it would be this time before I was back under the knife again – a thought that has been on my mind fairly frequently.

Well, the news I got today has given me a something to be very gratefully for and a pardon, if you will, from these dark thoughts. Dr. Bentley tells me that the results of the testing on the nodules have come back NEGATIVE for cancer cells!!!! That’s right – NEGATIVE!!  I’m still in shock … a good shock … and feeling ecstatic because I can now push those thoughts of early recurrence to the back of my mind – at least for the time being!!

Now, that doesn't mean that the GCT he removed wasn't cancerous. It was. And I’m not naive  I know that there is a very strong possibility that I will have to face surgery again in the future. But because these little guys aren't ‘thriving’ GCT’s, I can now hope that it will be a much longer period of time before I have to go under the knife again. Dr. Bentley tells me that he considers this a very good sign. I certainly couldn't agree more!!

So that’s my story for today!! I’m feeling wonderful, still behaving myself to prevent complications, able to drive the car again, and simply enjoying the extra special care that Willie has giving me this past month. Hmmmmm …. Maybe I should drag this out just a little longer so that the TLC part of the experience doesn't have to end too soon!! hehe

Until next time …….

~ B-Optimistic ~   J

NEVER TAKE YOUR GOOD HEALTH FOR GRANTED …..

This morning as I was lying in bed, I was hoping beyond hope that the Fleet enema that was needed two nights ago was continuing to do what it needed to do, and praying that I would not be faced with another trip to hospital to have a drainage tube inserted through the nose and to the stomach. Gross, I know, but the procedure itself is normally not that bad when you are under anesthesia - or until you get an irritated throat – which I did this time. I begged them to take mine out in hospital three days after surgery. If they hadn't, I expect they would have had to sedate me or I would have gone insane.  The 'team' gave me the warning that I may get physically ill without it, but I favoured physical illness over the mental type at that particular point in time. Thankfully, nothing negative resulted from its removal, and I was left with only the throat irritation which is getting better with each day. Fortunately, I also appear to be making it over this second major hurdle as well - the only other one I've faced since my surgery on September 24^th. I will spare you all of the boring details regarding the surgery, the six days in hospital, and my complaints about too many people interrupting my hospital rest, but I will tell you that I consider myself one lucky lady to have such a wonderful and caring Oncologist and health care team!

My recovery this time has actually been faster than any of my three previous surgeries. Although the actual procedure was pretty much the same, my incision was at least 6-7 inches shorter this time and I credit this in particular with my reduction in discomfort. I have much more energy than before with little need for naps (although I make sure I lie down several times each day to give the belly a bit of a stretch) and I am getting enough exercise to keep things mobile. I even took a walk around the backyard a couple of days ago and took photos of the fall colours. Not bad for just being out of hospital for a week, huh?

But another thought crossed my mind as I was lying there this morning. When I write it down like this, it sounds like a walk in the park. But it's not. Do the people in my life realize how fortunate they really are when they can live their lives without the constant thoughts of recurrent illness and hospitalization, drugs with side effects, and recuperation from surgeries? I can only hope they do!

Naturally, I would give anything to go back to pre 2002 and start over – without cancer; to be able to only be concerned about arthritis pain, hot flashes, and other minor ailments suffered by those in my age group. But that is not to be, so I will shake it off and move forward … again … until the next recurrence.

But to my friends and family I say, “Enjoy each day to the fullest” .... because you do not know what lurks around the corner and sometimes you just can’t run fast enough.

Happy Thanksgiving!! I’m looking forward to sharing the day with family!

Until next time ….

~B-Optimistic~

THE COUNTDOWN IS NEARLY OVER ... JUST ONE MORE SLEEP …..

Well, it’s down to the wire now and I’m starting to feel the anxiety levels rise. I’ve actually done quite well over the past couple of weeks, but the thought of only one more sleep is making me a bit antsy. What I wouldn’t give right now to wake up and realize that it is all a bad dream. But it’s not …..

I’m not really sure how to describe the emotional roller coaster I’m on right now. Of course the main emotion is fear, a sensation that touches every part of my being now and even more so over the next few days. My list includes the …….

Fear that I will be up too late tonight getting ready and not get enough sleep.

Fear that I will oversleep in the morning and have to rush around to get out the door on time.

Fear that I won’t have an appetite and not be able to stop along the highway somewhere for a late breakfast or an early lunch before I am faced with the prospect of eating hospital food.

Fear that I will wind up on a 3-day diet of ice chips like last time – which made the hospital food look very appealing!

Fear that I will be late for check-in on the 5^th Floor of the VG Hospital.

Fear that something will happen to the reservations at Point Pleasant Lodge and I won’t be with Willie when he checks in to straighten it all out.

Fear that there won’t be a parking place at the back of the Lodge for Willie to park the car off of the streets of Halifax.

Fear that something will happen to the boys when they travel down tomorrow night.

Fear that my surgery, which is scheduled for 2 o’clock, will be delayed and I will have to wait even longer than planned.

Fear that Dr. Bentley will find more than he bargained for when he goes in.

Fear that I will come out of surgery with more complications than expected.

Fear that I won’t come out of surgery.

Fear that I will pick up some bug at the hospital and end up sicker than I should be.

And oh so many more fears that I could fill this page and the next ………

But I have to end the list here and go pack my bag for the journey to end the fear of forgetting something. :-) Hopefully my next post will be a bit less dismal with a lot more hopes than fears.

Until next time …..

~BOptimistic ~

TWO WEEKS … THE COUNTDOWN IS ON

Well, the countdown is on. I got THE call from Halifax this afternoon and I am scheduled for surgery at 2 o’clock on Monday, September 24^th. I’m very grateful to my Oncologist for working things out so that I don’t have to make two trips to Halifax and instead will check into my ‘suite’ at the VG on Sunday afternoon and have all of the pre-op tests done that day. Feeling as I am, it would have been a very rough journey to undertake twice!

So now the planning begins. The reservations are made at the Lodge for Willie and the boys, who are coming along for moral support.  I’ve booked a whole week for Willie’s stay since that seems to be the usual length of time that I remain in hospital, but hopefully it will be a speedier recovery this time. I sure wish I was booking a room for that vacation we planned on taking this fall instead ….. But, it is what it is. Maybe we'll still get a couple of nights away somewhere once these hurricanes have passed. :-)

Am I nervous? As long as I don’t REALLY think about it, I am OK. I expect that I will be scared out of my britches by the time Friday before surgery rolls around, so I’ll enjoy this naivety while I can. But having trust in my Oncologist/Surgeon makes all the difference in the world with regard to my mental state and he has a wonderful team close at hand to take care of any little surprises that might arise. So I guess it’s all good.

Meanwhile, keep those prayers and positive vibes coming my way! I’ve got to go make a list of priorities!!

Until next time …..

~B-Optimistic~

READY TO GO .....

Today we leave for my consultation in Halifax. I slept fairly well last night considering, but I don't think I moved a muscle at all. I am torn and tense this morning - on one hand I am hoping that he keeps me there today and does the surgery ASAP. It seems so far away when I am here at home. On the other hand, the discomfort and pain when I move or cough or sneeze or yawn is really worrying me and I am hoping if he sends me home today that he can offer some reassurance that this will eventually ease like it has the other 2 or 3 times. Or at least give me some good drugs ... LOL

I was awake at 5:30 and tried to get back to sleep, but no go. I've packed a bag ... just in case ... and taking my laptop and tablet because I'd be lost without the ability to communicate with friends and family.

I will post later, either from home or from Halifax - depending on the result of my visit today. Keep praying, my friends. It's my safety net and what gets me through! :-)

Until next time ....
~ BOptimistic ~

RECURRING CANCER - It's becoming a habit for me

Well, my friends. I have some news that I wanted to share with you personally before the word gets out on the street. I am not posting this because I am looking for sympathy or comments. In fact, if you know me at all, you know that the opposite of this is the case. I just know how quickly bad news travels on the ‘grapevine’ and how it is normally stretched right out of proportion. It won’t be long before the stories get started.

My latest CTScan at the end of July indicated that my cancer is back. I have a 12 cm tumour in approximately the same area as the last one. Only one, so that is great news! So, I am travelling once again to Halifax for a consultation with my Oncologist on September 6^th and expect to have a surgery date scheduled for some time after that.

Once the initial disappointment dissipated, my mental state has remained optimistic, just as it has been in the past. With this being my 4^th surgery to remove these little devils since 2002, it has gotten to the point that I just think “WHEN will the next recurrence be” not “Will the cancer return.” I refer to these recurrences as my “speed bumps on the road of life”.

Physically, I was feeling wonderful and staying active until two nights ago. My symptoms are not the same as the other 3 times and I’m hoping that is a good thing. Left sided pain that subsides to a bit of abdominal discomfort is all I have this time. But it was enough to make me suspect things were not quite right and I requested a Scan prior to my last check up, confirming the presence of another tumour. I continued to enjoy life in spite of it all over the past two months even with the diagnosis.J

I will try and keep everyone informed of what is happening so you know the truth, but if you hear something on the street and wonder if it’s true, do not be afraid to ask. There have been some wild stories with regard to my health status in the past. It’s been 10 years since my initial diagnosis and I plan on being around for another 30 - just to keep Willie’s life interesting!! LOL

You can be assured that I appreciate and accept all optimistic vibes and prayers for my upcoming surgery and recovery. I thank you for that. And although I know many of you will want to offer words of encouragement - I have witnessed how supportive you all are - I may not be able to keep up with the responses to this post AND get all of those household tasks done that I need to do before surgery. lol But I WILL make it my priority to answer any questions you might have about my condition if it will help make others more aware of the symptoms and issues surrounding Ovarian Cancer.

If you aren’t familiar with my past cancer history - and are interested - it's all right here on the blog. Now that I am making my recurrence ‘public’, I will try and keep you up to date on what is happening inside this mind of mine as well. J

Until next time ......

~ B-Optimistic ~

ANOTHER SYMPTOM for GCT

This morning I was introduced to a U.S. website with a good array of information on all forms of women's cancer. When reading the details on stromal cell cancers (my GCT falls under this category), I was intrigued to see that 'new onset acne' was listed as one of the top three symptoms!

This is the first website that has provided confirmation that the breakouts that always seems to be present - not only on my face, but also on my arms and legs - during a recurrence of GCT is actually a symptom. Who would have thought that acne would be a sign that cancer had returned? 

Now that I see the symptom confirmed, I guess it's time to make an adjustment to my own symptom list!! 

Until next time .......

~ B-Optimistic ~

DaVinci Robotic Surgery

I was just checking out the profile on a fellow GCT survivor and noted that the DaVinci Robotic surgical technique was used for her 3rd surgery. She said she was back to work in 3 weeks! Impressive!

Ovarian Cancer Links

Have you been diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer? I just discovered two wonderful links that might be just what the doctor would order -

https://www.inspire.com/ lets you connect with others who have been diagnosed with Ovarian cancer
AND
http://www.ovariancancer.org/ contains multiple resources (including a link where you can track your symptoms)

Check them out to see if they are what you are looking for!!

Connecting with Others Affected by Cancer

Here is a great resoource for anyone affected by cancer - either directly or indirectly. It was extremely helpful to me when I was diagnosed 10 years ago. Connecting directly with other individuals who are going through the same type of cancer is very therapeutic and educational. Check it out. And most importantly of all, share the link!  http://www.cancercompass.com/

Four Year Anniversary

The 4-year anniversary of my last cancer surgery is coming up next week - so far, so good.  I was reading through my journal from that time in my life and it is really surprising what I had forgotten!

I had a good chuckle when I read this section: “I remember feeling very confident when I awoke from the anesthesia this time. I can't describe it any other way, but it was a very palpable feeling. Even before asking whether I required a colostomy, which seems to be my first response when they wake me up, I felt good - no nausea at all. For some reason I don't remember coming back upstairs to my room. I do, however, remember that every time I opened my eyes, Willie, Bob & Jeff had their chairs circling the bottom of the bed and all were staring at me as if they were waiting for me to breathe or something. Talk about make someone paranoid!! haha I sent them all home at a decent time tonight. I imagine they are tired from the day and I am doing fine.”

I also wrote about the other special people I met during this journey – a lovely but lonely lady from PEI whose son was her only relative and he wasn’t arriving until the next day, the 72 year old who had brain cancer and was facing radiation for the umpteenth time but still had a whole lot of spunk left in her, the 60+ year old gentleman who had throat cancer and had been given 5 months to live if he didn’t have treatment. He decided to try the radiation but had to live at the hospital for the entire month because he had no family - his wife had just been admitted to a local psychiatric hospital. I looked forward to our chats in the TV room. 

And then there was Barb from Sussex (it really is a small world) who arrived a couple of days before I left. Barb and I had a lot of time to sit and talk between family visits. We even shared email addresses and kept in touch for several months afterwards. The last message I received from her was not a good one - her cancer had returned quickly - and severely - and she was leaving that afternoon for Saint John to undergo intensive treatments. I never heard from her again.

I spent a week in hospital. A lot happens; a lot changes, a lot is forgotten. But I can guaranteed that these wonderful people who touched my heart will be with me forever. As I write this, I see their faces. And I wonder.

Until next time ......

BOptimistic!! :-) 

OVARIAN CANCER SYMPTOMS

Pay attention to these symptoms because they could be the heralding signs of ovarian cancer!


I personally had ALL of these symptoms ..... and neither a pap test, pelvic exam, or ultrasound found the tumour. It took a CT Scan to discover my cancer.


It will be 10 years this spring since I was first diagnosed and I thank Dr. Robert Thompson, my family doctor, for recognizing the need to delve further into the symptoms. A gynecologist, an intern, and 2 surgeons examined me and did not recognize them. 


It's up to you to be aware .... keep a journal of changes that your body is going through and list any symptoms that are not usual. Above all, be informed!!! And if you have a combination any of these symptoms for more than two weeks, see your doctor. Don't hesitate to demand that he/she sends you for a Scan. Hopefully it will be nothing.

Update - Three cancer treatment drugs may have potentially fatal side effects

Read this for more information. This warning was posted on the GCT Facebook page and it appears that these drugs might be considered by some doctors for the treatment GCT. Be aware and be informed!

Reflecting ......

It’s hard to believe that a year ago I was waiting for results of a CT Scan and expecting to be told that my GCT had returned. I will always remember the elation of getting the phone call from my Gynaecologist telling me that the scan was clear. That was definitely the best Christmas gift ever.

I am still feeling wonderful (knock on wood as I don’t want to curse it) and looking forward to spending Christmas with our sons and two boisterous grandchildren. The year has gone by so quickly! My wonderful Mom always said that as I got older, the time would fly by faster every year. She was so right! And I am only 53..... I can’t imagine what it will be like in 20 years!

But for the record, things weren’t exactly perfect. I had a rough fall psychologically with no discernable explanation at the time for the emotional roller coaster I was on. Health wise, everything seemed to be fine. But as I come out of that ‘doom and gloom’ fog I was in, there seems to be one dominant thought factor. I am still missing the companionship of a canine friend, even more so now than last year at this time. I thought that, after nearly 2 years, I would have gotten used to not having a four-legged, hair shedding, pesty little critter around, but guess that is not to be. I have had a pet for way too many years and I think this is the longest that I have gone without.

I am hoping that this urge will pass. I have no immediate plans to run out and find a replacement, mainly because I can’t imagine as strong a bond with another animal as I had with Rocky. But also because my husband and I have plans to travel and a dog would definitely tie us down. So I will persevere.... Wish me luck!!

Merry Christmas everyone!!
And until next time ........
~ BOptimistic! ~

THE UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE – Living with Ovarian Cancer

In 2009, I was asked to be the Speaker at the Grand Lake Relay for Life Survivor dinner. I was honoured to accept the invitation. This is my cancer story. I am finally ready to share it with you.

THE UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE – Living with Ovarian Cancer

I am facing mortality. Well, not quite, or at least I haven’t been given my walking papers yet. But every so often mortality peeks around the corner, just checking in to make sure I remember that each day is precious and reminding me that I won’t be around here forever.

OK, no one likes to talk about cancer. But there are very few people who are unable to use the word “cancer” in the same sentence when talking about themselves, a friend, or a loved one.

So, just to soften this conversation up a bit, I’d like to give mortality a name. I’ll call him “Mo”; that sounds a little less intimidating, don’t you think? I personally compare Mo to that distant family member that just pops in for a visit every so often to let you know that he’s still around; that one relative that you really would prefer not to associate with, but hey … Mom always taught you to be nice to your relatives no matter what, right? Well, Mo has been to visit me three times over the past seven years and he’s really wearing out his welcome.

I almost missed Mo’s first visit. Oh, he knocked on the door, but it took me awhile to answer it. He didn’t knock very loud and I didn’t recognize the sound of his tapping. Nor did the group of doctors and specialists I was hanging out with at the time. But once we realized where the sound was actually coming from, there he was. And being his presumptuous self, Mo had brought along a friend, one of those low-life characters that you really don’t want coming in through your front door and getting comfortable in your favourite chair. But I guess Mo thought it was time I met his friend, OC, and her offspring GCT.

Perhaps you’re already familiar with some of OC’s relatives – her lineage runs deep. OC is a descendant of the Cancer family, on the Ovarian side - the group of relatives that usually stays underground plotting and waiting, ready to jump up and yell, “Surprise!” when you least expect it; that fear-mongering, unrelenting group that is difficult to get rid of once they know where you live. And if you don’t know the Ovarian Cancer family personally, I’m sure you know someone who has tales to tell about this group.

For my part, I have to hand it to Mo. He knows that I’ve always liked to stand out in the crowd, even though I would never openly admit it. So just to help me keep up this façade, Mo decided that my visit from OC would be a little different – I would get a chance to really bond with her offspring - a rare sort – Granulosa Cell Tumour - nicknamed GCT. GCT is supposedly friendlier than other members of this clan; a relative that purportedly comes with a much better guarantee policy for a long and fruitful life, providing, of course, that GCT doesn’t get too attached.

Oh, and for good measure (Mo really knows how to rub it in), doctors really don’t know a whole lot about GCT because, it appears, this particular family cluster isn’t big enough yet to get as much attention …… or perhaps this group just isn’t as ‘in your face’ as the other 93% of the family is.

At this point in time, surgery is the standard treatment for GCT. No success has been proven with follow up treatment such as chemo or radiation. So there isn’t even a plausible option at this point other than surgery. So, thus far at least, I have not been exposed to the dreaded effects of either treatment. I personally see that as a good thing - at least during this stage of the game - which might surprise some people; but that’s something my Oncologist and I will, hopefully, never have to discuss.

When I was first diagnosed as having GCT in 2002, I had one malignant tumour the size of a small watermelon plus a benign grapefruit size Dermoid Cyst which I lovingly nicknamed Harry. These were removed from my abdomen along with my ovaries, uterus, cervix … well, you get the point. But the good news was that not only was the deadly C removed from my body, no more monthly cycles for me!! Mo also knew how I felt about that. Thanks for that one, Mo!

My tumour was packed up and shipped off to a lab in Toronto and was staged as 1C. I’m sure that being familiar with cancer staging, you all know that this is good. The cancer was in the early stages and still contained – it hadn’t spread to other organs.

I was informed by my gynecologist that there was a very good chance that it would not return and also given the upper hand on the odds – 95% in my favour. But return it did – in 2007. We’ll probably never be certain why GCT came back for a visit, but this time there were four tumours. Perhaps it was because during my first surgery the tumour ruptured and possibly “seeded” in the abdominal cavity. Perhaps the tumours had already started sprouting but were just too tiny to be noticed. Perhaps … perhaps … perhaps - A waste of time pondering that one; they were back - period.

But Mo had a battle on his hands. I refused to give in to the “poor me” syndrome. I referred to my circumstances, and still do, as a speed bump in the highway of life; very similar to a pregnancy – once it’s in there, it has to come out. These four guys had to go!

So once again I was faced with the probability of “going under” and not “coming back up.” I’m sure I’m not alone with that fear and that anyone who has undergone surgery can relate to this apprehension. Should I say my good-byes now just in case? Should I write little notes to friends and family telling them how much I love them? Should I put someone’s name on the underside of all of my favourite possessions so each item gets passed on to the person of my choosing, saving my husband the stress and hassle of divvying up the things that he will never use – my craft supplies, my guitar, my treadmill? Oh wait a minute; I don’t use any of those things either!!

Well, that was two years ago. I survived that surgery, albeit with a little excitement when the surgeons had trouble turning off the tap on one of my blood vessels. I was topped up with two litres of blood to replace what I lost and, after several more hours than initially estimated, I was back in my room and once again on the road to recovery.

I thought I would be out of the woods, so to speak, for at least another four or five years. But Mo had other plans. About a week before Christmas 2007, less than a year after my previous surgery, I had my first indication that something was amiss; a sharp pain in my lower left abdomen followed by a discomfort that lasted for four or five days. I compare this discomfort to how I might feel if I went to the gym and did too many sit-ups in one session.

There was nothing else to indicate a problem; just this pain in my abdomen that was gone, without a trace, within a week. I was actually feeling better than I had in years. I tried to ignore it, hoping beyond hope that I had pulled something while I was tossing about with my grandchildren the previous weekend. But, deep down, I knew that Mo was once again lurking in the shadows, playing peek-a-boo with me, tormenting me.

Mo gave me a chance; he knew that I wouldn’t ignore the clues, that I would eventually give in and get it checked out. But just to make sure I got the hint, Mo started throwing in a few other symptoms that were very familiar to me – headaches, stomach upset, and a frequent requirement for afternoon naps. So, less than two months after the initial pain in my abdomen, I followed my hunches and consulted with my gynecologist. A CT Scan once again confirmed what I already knew. GCT was back.

OK, so if you don’t know me personally, I always try and see the silver lining in any situation, even this one. My husband is amazed with my positivism. My friends ponder my sanity. But I managed to find it - the glimmer of hope that I was seeking. This time there was only one tumour. Perhaps, I thought, it was just a “left over” from the previous occurrence, hidden and gone unnoticed or too tiny to be discovered the previous year.

Needless to say, Mo once again had me in his grips – sitting on the edge, trying to prepare myself for what I was going to hear when I went to visit my oncologist in. Mo’s a smart one. He knows that I hate – no, thoroughly despise - not knowing what is going to happen; especially having to wait any length of time to find out. And, between you and me, it is getting a bit more difficult to remain positive, to not dwell on Mo and what’s in store.

But I’ll tell you my secret for pulling myself back up. When I start to feel sorry for myself I just look around at the world, at this country, at the small Village that I live in. And I realize that things could be a whole lot worse. I’ve had more than 50 years of being loved, spoiled, and admired - at least I think those looks were admiration – and that’s a whole lot more than some people get in a lifetime of 70, 80, even 100 years.

Appointment day 2008 arrived - beautiful, sunny and warm - and off to Halifax we went. It was a great day for a drive and I barely thought of why we were making this journey and just tried to focus on the beauty of the day. That was the best thing I could have done. Had I known what the news would be, the trip would have been much less enjoyable.

The consultation with my Oncologist was disappointing. He explained that, after taking a thorough look at the CT Scan, there appeared to be one obvious tumour and several lesions that could be tumours as well. That wasn’t exactly the news I wanted to hear. I managed to keep my strong façade in play and asked all of the relevant questions that I felt needed answers – Could the larger tumour have been missed last January? (Possibly, but it would be difficult to confirm); Should I be having regular blood work to check my Inhibin levels so we would know sooner when the cancer has returned? (In my case, probably not necessary since I am so in-tune with my symptoms); Do we really have to discuss adjuvant treatments like chemo now? (No, we’ll know more after the surgery and I would have to gain my strength back anyway before treatments could actually begin); How soon can you book me into a suite at the Victoria General? (Probably within three (3) weeks).

The drive home that afternoon was the longest journey I’ve had to make in a long, long time. The wind had been knocked from my sails, so to speak, and for the next few days I let Mo have his way with me, feeding my mind with negative thoughts. But as each day passed my optimism returned and, even though I was exceedingly nervous about the actual surgery and what would be discovered once they were inside, I reminded myself that I was a survivor and that I would deal with whatever hurdles I had to overcome.

Well over a year has passed since my Oncologist and I met in his office to discuss what my options were. I recovered quickly from the surgery and am pleased to say that there were absolutely no complications - there is always the chance that I may come out of surgery with a temporary or permanent colostomy should the tumour be attached to the bowel. Although I know I could deal with this if it came to be, it is always the first question I ask when they bring me out of my deep sleep. It’s amazing what your mind retains.

There was no blood transfusion required last time either. The surgery, my Oncologist tells me, went much better than he expected. I’m a bit apprehensive to ask him what he expected!! Perhaps that’s a question that I will leave unasked. He did, however, advise that the additional spots on the CT scan were not tumours but probably just scar tissue from previous surgeries. I got to do the happy dance after all!!

I remain optimistic. I believe in prayer (both giving and receiving); I believe in miracles; and I’m confident that the old saying “Three times a charm” might actually prove true for me this time.

Whether any of us like to admit it or not, we all have that little fella, Mo, following us around on a daily basis. None of us know when Mo will pay his first visit or which of his friends he’ll bring along. There is no expiry date printed anywhere on our bodies to let us know when our “best before” time runs out or when we will no longer be a living part of this planet; breathing the air, feeling the earth beneath our feet, or hearing the laughter of our friends and family.

But you can be sure that Mo is there, checking in on us every so often. Don’t worry though. He’ll let you know when he’s around by showing up at your gate, albeit sometimes subtly. Just make sure you pay attention to the little knocks on your door. And if he just happens to have one of his friends from the Cancer family with him, learn all you can about that friend’s lineage. It’s a good plan of action to be on familiar terms with your enemies. It makes it easier to know what they might be up to.

Oh, and one more thing. Be forewarned, Mo. You haven’t won this battle. There is a very good chance that I will live to a ripe old age, giving up the ghost because of some other disease, or perhaps even lucky enough to leave this world due to natural causes. But when it comes right down to it, Mo, it’s just a roll of the dice - between you, me and the man upstairs. I like the odds.

Updated June 2009