Catherine, 52 years

I feel now that I can now tell my story as one of the lucky ones to have survived ovarian cancer, up to this point. But at other times I am sad and think that I shouldn't be so happy, as many others do not even get the opportunity to say the same.

In October 2000, aged 45, I visited my GP of over 20 years, thinking I may have had a touch of gastro. Once or twice in the preceding few months I had experienced the same vague symptoms. My GP was concerned enough to immediately send me for an ultrasound, which was then followed by an appointment with a gynaecologist. It was confirmed I had ovarian cancer, and within the week of my first visit I was in Melbourne, in the very capable hands of Associate Professor Tom Jobling, who performed a radical hysterectomy.

Testing of the tumour confirmed it was stage III, with a CA125 of 2481. A small portion of the tumour remained after the operation; therefore the advised treatment was a combined course of chemotherapy and radiation. This involved a six-week block of radiation, (five days per week, some 80kms from home) and chemotherapy on one day of the week in my hometown. When this was completed I started a five-month course of Taxol and Carboplatin, which involved a 24-hour stay in the hospital every four weeks. The side effects included hair loss, tiredness, weight loss and the occasional memory lapse, (which even now I still have and we all call it my "chemo moment").

Family and friends helped us through this harrowing time, by accompanying me on my daily radiation trips, dropping off meals, stopping in for a gossip and completing any household chores that hadn't been done before my husband and children left for their day at work or school. I found that being able to laugh along the way and setting small goals for myself helped take my mind off medical matters. Before I knew it a year had gone by.

Previously, not many of my female friends and family were concerned by such an illness, but they are now thoroughly versed in symptoms and how to listen to their bodies. I find that this is the best way for me to help other women and can only hope that either an early detection test or a vaccine can be discovered in the near future, and that this most insidious disease is no longer detected in the late stage. In October 2007, I passed the seven-year mark and now happily see all my doctors once a year. Without the quick response of all concerned, my outcome may not have been so fortunate. I thank you for reading my story and would like to leave you with an Irish Prayer that was given to me during my treatment:

Always remember to forget the things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember that things that made you glad.
Always remember to forget the friends that proved untrue.
But never forget to remember those that have stuck by you.
Always remember to forget the troubles that passed away.
But never forget to remember the blessings that come each day.

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