Suzanne, 52 years

In 1981 and aged 30, I had been happily married for two years, had two stepchildren and lived on a dairy farm. I played netball and basketball and could load up to 20 bales of hay onto a trailer by myself - my health was fine.

Back pain forced me to see a physiotherapist, whom fortunately, I'd seen before. He recommended that I see a doctor immediately, because I had gained weight and had a bloated stomach, which he thought was an ovarian cyst. Within two weeks major surgery was performed and a seven-pound cyst removed.

The gynaecologist advised me that things weren't too good and he needed to do more surgery. So seven days after the first operation, I went back for a radical hysterectomy. I was diagnosed as Stage III; cancer cells were found even in the fat lining across the top of my pelvis. A month of recovery was all I was allowed before I started 20 doses of radiation therapy at Peter MacCallum Hospital. Time dims the memories of monthly trips to Melbourne for blood tests, horrible internal examinations and checking the dosage of the tablets they told me were some sort of chemotherapy. I cannot express what it meant to have the support of my husband and family over all this time.

Seventeen years later in 1997, life was good; we had a granddaughter and another on the way. I began experiencing terrible pain, which I thought was a twisted bowel. The tests seemed endless and then my gynaecologist and a bowel surgeon operated, finding masses of adhesions that were tangling around the bowel. They also discovered cancer in the lymph glands; the primary was ovarian cancer.

Apparently radiation treatment can cause adhesions and can damage the bone marrow cycle. Chemotherapy was ordered and luckily I was able to have it in my home town. I had three doses of Cisplatin, then three of Carboplatin, but they were making me very sick and my blood and bone marrow count were very low. I was then put on Taxol for six doses, with blood transfusions before each dose. Before I started the chemotherapy I told my hairdresser to cut my long hair very short and I ordered a wig; then when it started to fall out, he shaved my head for me.

Our second granddaughter was born after my first dose of chemotherapy. I nursed her a lot and I'm sure she helped my state of mind. Three years later, during the Olympics, I was tossing this now three year old child around and thought I pulled a muscle in my shoulder. I went to a physiotherapist again, who again told me to see my doctor. I have enlarged lymph glands in my neck, and the primary is ovarian cancer. The doctors tried giving me some tablets again but stopped because it was doing more harm than good.

It is February 2004 and we now have three granddaughters. I'm still on six monthly checks as the lump is still there, though hopefully getting smaller. My CA125 has finally broken the 200 barrier and my doctor calls me unique. I know that people who have cancer develop a different outlook on life, it's so precious. Look after yourselves and take advice from that little voice in your head.

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