Tina, 30 years

I was 28 years old when I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I had been experiencing odd symptoms for about 2 years, mainly abdominal bloating and discomfort, however none of the doctors that I saw could pinpoint the cause; most of them sent me away with a pat on the arm, while some inferred it was all in my head.

It wasn't until I developed mid-cycle bleeding that I managed to get a referral for an abdominal ultrasound, which revealed bilateral ovarian cysts of 6cm in diameter. I was then referred to a gynaecologist for removal of the cysts - what was supposed to be a fairly routine operation.

As soon as my gynaecologist looked at the cyst on my left ovary he knew what he was looking at. After the operation he mentioned his concerns to my husband and I, although I was too out of it to really understand. My husband had had cancer before, and he said the tone of my doctor's voice was very familiar.

We received confirmation of the diagnosis the next day when the results of the pathology were available. The following day we saw a gynaecological oncologist, and one week to the day from the first operation I underwent a laparotomy for surgical staging.

Incredibly, particularly given the duration of my symptoms, the cancer was confined to the left ovary, so I didn't require chemotherapy. Being young and fairly fit, I recovered very quickly and was able to return to work about three weeks after the operation. I was so thankful of the return to normality, although it was hard-going at times. We are now two and a half years post diagnosis and still going strong. I have had to undergo a number of medical procedures along the way, but we are making progress.

I still can't believe this has happened to me; the other day my gynaecologist was telling me about a paper he was writing about a sample of 400 or so laparoscopies he had conducted. He noted that only one girl had had ovarian cancer. When I mentioned to my husband afterwards that I felt sorry for that girl, he nearly fell over - of course my doctor was talking about me. It's pretty surreal.

Raising awareness of this terrible disease is so important, especially among women and doctors. Whenever I relate my medical history to doctors these days, I have a niggling feeling in the back of my mind that I am a hypochondriac, which I put down to the way I was treated by doctors before my diagnosis. As my husband reminds me, if it wasn't for my persistence things could have been much worse, but the fact of the matter is, I shouldn't have needed to be so aggressive in my search for a diagnosis.

These days, well, we take one day at a time... but always onwards and upwards. Take care.

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