I'm a survivor of three different cancers: two different forms of skin cancer and ovarian cancer which required six months of chemotherapy. At first I thought I could pay for my skin cancer treatment myself and keep it off the insurance radar, but the pathologist's bill was more than three months salary for the very first removal. So that idea exploded in the hangar.
I'm in a marriage I would otherwise leave, but with ovarian cancer in my medical history there's no chance I could ever get my own health insurance. I almost left my husband six months before my diagnosis...in all honesty if I were in better health I'd likely be divorced by now. I'm fortunate that my husband is a good person. He stood by me while I had my treatment and he was supportive to the best of his ability.
Once upon a time cancer was a big dark shameful secret no one mentioned, perhaps for fear it would get them, too. When my head was shaved because my hair was falling out due to chemo, my cancer was not a secret. Wigs are too hot to wear in Florida at any time of the year, because the humidity is killer. I've no recollection of the vast number of times I said, 'I have cancer,' during my treatment. Now I tell everyone, 'I'm in remission,' because it's true. I had cancer, I was treated, and I'm in remission. It felt so good to write that, I wrote it again.
Ovarian cancer has a 75% fatality rate. However, they tell me that I'll be one of the lucky 25% who survive. My cancer was discovered in stage 2. Yes, having cancer sucks, but there are worse things in the world. (What could be worse than having cancer? Outliving your children, for one. Outliving every one of your friends. Bearing responsibility for someone else's death. Do you see the point?)
When one has cancer, one finds out how kind one's friends and loved ones are as well as what's important in life. In some ways having cancer can be a blessing. One also discovers what's important in life. The outpouring of love and support is wonderful. Complete strangers offered to pray for me. That was such a loving gift.
Ask your doctor about your risks for ovarian cancer. It's a deadly silent killer. Breast cancer only has an 8% fatality rate. Pap tests have nothing to do with diagnosing ovarian cancer. The symptoms are subtle and easily mistaken for other illnesses. Ovarian cancer is much more likely to kill you, and most women know nothing about it. Ask questions and find out about your risks. Please, save your own lives.
The short answer to this question is that I told everyone about my cancer when I had it. I tell people about my cancer history now as well. The long answer is that ovarian cancer could happen to you, too. Ask your doctor about your risks for this silent killer. Perhaps my experience can help save some other woman's life. If that comes to pass, then all my suffering will be worthwhile.
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I'm a survivor of three different cancers: two different forms of skin cancer and ovarian cancer which required six months of chemotherapy. At first I thought I could pay for my skin cancer treatment myself and keep it off the insurance radar, but the pathologist's bill was more than three months salary for the very first removal. So that idea exploded in the hangar.
I'm in a marriage I would otherwise leave, but with ovarian cancer in my medical history there's no chance I could ever get my own health insurance. I almost left my husband six months before my diagnosis...in all honesty if I were in better health I'd likely be divorced by now. I'm fortunate that my husband is a good person. He stood by me while I had my treatment and he was supportive to the best of his ability.
Once upon a time cancer was a big dark shameful secret no one mentioned, perhaps for fear it would get them, too. When my head was shaved because my hair was falling out due to chemo, my cancer was not a secret. Wigs are too hot to wear in Florida at any time of the year, because the humidity is killer. I've no recollection of the vast number of times I said, 'I have cancer,' during my treatment. Now I tell everyone, 'I'm in remission,' because it's true. I had cancer, I was treated, and I'm in remission. It felt so good to write that, I wrote it again.
Ovarian cancer has a 75% fatality rate. However, they tell me that I'll be one of the lucky 25% who survive. My cancer was discovered in stage 2. Yes, having cancer sucks, but there are worse things in the world. (What could be worse than having cancer? Outliving your children, for one. Outliving every one of your friends. Bearing responsibility for someone else's death. Do you see the point?)
When one has cancer, one finds out how kind one's friends and loved ones are as well as what's important in life. In some ways having cancer can be a blessing. One also discovers what's important in life. The outpouring of love and support is wonderful. Complete strangers offered to pray for me. That was such a loving gift.
Ask your doctor about your risks for ovarian cancer. It's a deadly silent killer. Breast cancer only has an 8% fatality rate. Pap tests have nothing to do with diagnosing ovarian cancer. The symptoms are subtle and easily mistaken for other illnesses. Ovarian cancer is much more likely to kill you, and most women know nothing about it. Ask questions and find out about your risks. Please, save your own lives.
The short answer to this question is that I told everyone about my cancer when I had it. I tell people about my cancer history now as well. The long answer is that ovarian cancer could happen to you, too. Ask your doctor about your risks for this silent killer. Perhaps my experience can help save some other woman's life. If that comes to pass, then all my suffering will be worthwhile.
April 18, 2011 - 6:49amThis Comment
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