Katia, 41 years

In Memory of Katia Kecse-Nagy

3.07.1963 - 12.04.08

Today is my 38th birthday and for me it is a great day, because today, I am still alive. For most people, I guess that a birthday is just another day that you take for granted, that you will be around to celebrate many more.

Early in 2000, Liz Heliotis together with Professor Thomas Jobling had a vision to create awareness of Ovarian Cancer and to find a simple and early detection test for this disease. They were not alone in their quest. With pioneering vision, Witchery, along with founding partner, the National Australia Bank, have proudly supported the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation in there quest and have given hope to the many women who are diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer.

In March 2000, I too, was made aware of Ovarian Cancer. I too, met Professor Thomas Jobling. But I didn’t meet him as a supporter, but as a sufferer of Ovarian Cancer.

Early in 2000, at the age of 36, I was working in the motor industry as a finance manager. I was high maintenance and pretty self-absorbed in what I thought was important, wearing the right clothes, driving the right car. My husband and I had bought our dream family home. We hoped to begin a family just like every other living couple.

In February of that year, I had a small niggardly pain on the inside of my right hip. I went to my local GP to have it seen to. At first, the doctor thought it may have been just a stomach bug; however I was insistent that it was not. After numerous scans and tests by my two doctors, I was then sent to a gynecologist. He decided to perform a laparoscopy. It was only then that I discovered that I had cancer. I was the referred to Professor Thomas Jobling. He explained that I had ovarian cancer and that I was in the late stages of the illness.

I couldn’t believe it as I felt that I was well and surely should have shown some sort of sign that I was ill. My pap smears had always been clear, but I learnt that this didn’t matter, as there was no form of early detection of this disease.

To say this shattered my life would be an understatement, as from this point my world turned upside down. I was told that survival rate of this disease, discovered at such a late stage, was 25% after 5 years.

In the last seven and a half years, I have had three surgery procedures called “debulking”, which involves a 30 cm, horizontal incision down my abdomen. I have had a radical hysterectomy, lost a large part of my bladder, my appendix, the lining of my stomach, right hand colon, spleen, gallbladder, numerous large tumors and other parts that I am not sure how to pronounce, removed. I have also had three heart and lung operations which have left me with two holes in my heart to allow any excess fluid drain away. And have also had three other minor surgical operations. In early December, last year, I detected a lump in my breast.

I was sent for various tests to confirm that I have primary bi-lateral breast cancer in both breasts. This cancer is completely unrelated to my ovarian cancer.

After recovering from my first surgery I began, what would be my first of many, aggressive rounds of chemotherapy. Today I commenced a six week regime of radiation treatment in an attempt to shrink the tumors in my breast, and to date, I have had my 62 chemotherapy treatments.

I have accepted and understand what is happening to me and I have a whole new outlook. Yes, I am a strong person and hold a positive outlook, but I also accepted that I had to allow myself to grieve about my illness.

When you are diagnosed with cancer, it not only affects you, it also has a rippling effect on those around you. It shatters dreams and hopes. It takes away from you, confidence in your body and confidence in yourself. You desperately search for a future. I get up every morning, some days I go to work, and I embrace the day for what it holds, but there are plenty of nights that I cry myself to sleep.

I have lived with cancer for seven and a half years, but I have not been alone in my battle. I watch the face of my husband, I see his fear and anguish but I also see his strength, hope and love.

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Courageous Katia lived life by her favourite quote: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away".

Katia’s story begins in early 2000, when she was experiencing a niggling pain on the inside of her hip for about a month – a dull, aching pain – so she went to my local GP. The doctor had said it was probably a stomach bug, but she knew it wasn’t because the pain had been there for about six weeks, so she insisted they look into it further.

Over the next six weeks, Katia had a series of tests and saw a general surgeon. At no stage did Katia or her doctors think they were looking for cancer. The first ultrasounds showed there was a lesion on her right ovary, near where the pain had been. Katia was then sent to a gynaecologist who decided she should have another internal ultrasound. This time, it was performed by a gynaecologist radiologist, who found a vascular cyst on the inside of her right ovary and nodes on the interim wall of her uterus. Again she was told not to worry, that they were just abnormalities and weren’t cancerous.

Katia’s gynaecologist then decided to do a laparoscopy to have a look at the cyst and to also find out why she wasn’t falling pregnant. After the operation the doctor came in, and said they had found something out of his area of expertise. He added that he’d sent samples to another specialist and would know the results in a few days. The next Monday afternoon Katia received the call and the news was devastating, she was told she had developed ovarian cancer stage 3C.

After six months of battling the disease, she finally thought the ordeal was over. However, Katia relapsed in February 2004 and once again she had to endure a round of intense chemotherapy. This time she was in remission for only five months - in December 2004 she relapsed and underwent a third round of chemo.  Then a forth in 2005; a fifth in 2005 and a sixth round in 2006.  In November 2006, Katia endured her 50th chemotherapy treatment, but through it all has shown remarkable strength, courage and a fabulous sense of humour. On the morning Saturday, April 12, Katia Kecse-Nagy lost her battle with ovarian cancer, She died at home, in her husband Greg’s arms, which was her final wish.

Throughout her battle, Katia worked tirelessly with the OCRF, even when she was admitted to hospital she would take a stash of silver ribbons to hand out to people. Katia was determined to educate woman about this disease- she knew that statistics were stacked against her. In Australia, one woman every ten hours dies from ovarian cancer. There is no early detection test (a pap smear test for cervical cancer, not ovarian). There is no cure currently and there will not be without serious research.

Katia made the statistics of ovarian cancer very clear and to the point when saying: Just think, since you had breakfast this morning, another woman has lost her fight. In two and a half days, another five woman will die, and in a year a further 880 woman will loose the battle.

Katia worked tirelessly to increase awareness of ovarian cancer and raise much needed funds to assist researchers in their efforts to determine a simple early detection method. Katia will always be remembered for her beautiful soul, her tenacity, passion and commitment as an Ambassador for ovarian cancer research.

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