Ovarian cancer, my story.
On the 8th of December 2018 I collapsed in a carpark. My daughter was having her Saturday morning riding lesson, and I was waiting to take her home. I told myself I'd hurt my back--caught a nerve... I had no idea how difficult, scary and saddening the following seven months were going to be.
I told myself it was my back, that it would ease, that it was nothing, I did this all weekend, and I could hardly walk. Sunday night in the wee small hours I laid there and thought, this is so stupid, if this is my appendix I could be in bloody danger... I told the husband it was likely my back, and the doctor would probably prescribe some anti-inflammatories. So, Monday morning I got an appointment at my Doctors, who, after one very painful prod to my abdomen sent me down to Surgical Outpatients as a walk in. I was in the hospital for nine hours. The first couple of hours I was hanging about, sent for bloods, and sent from waiting room to waiting room. Then a lovely nurse took me in for a scan.
She had a trainee in with her, and we had a little chuckle that I might be pregnant. My twins were 13 at the time.
As we were chatting away she's thoroughly scanning the left side of my abdomen, and i'm asking questions because the scan monitor is in colour, and I'm gritting my teeth to smile as she rolls the device over to my right. The colours changed, going bluish, it all looked very different. She turned the screen away from me, gestured her trainee closer, and shot out the door. She was back in less than a minute. With a doctor. And then another followed.
The first doctor was grumbling, he didn't like this machine. He preferred the other one, let's move her down the hall...
I remember, to this day, my mind being totally blank. I was in the hospital, I was in the best place, they were going to fix me. The nurse and the trainee helped me to stand, and shuffled at my slow pace down the corridor with me.
The room down the hall was bright, painfully bright compared to the warm, dimmed cocoon, with a comfortably scooped bed-chair for expectant Mamas. There was no bed here, just an examination table, at least six monitors, and half a dozen people. It was loud, and the doctors were rushed -- I was hurried back onto the table, and they scanned again. I looked away, over my right shoulder. Three were crowded around me, a couple stared at screens suggesting different angles, and one moved to get his coffee.
As he leant to the side, out of the way of the screen, the grey and white swirl formed a dark ring, and some instrument or other was measuring... it was 16cm wide.
I think, looking back on it, that was when the first wave of numbness hit. It was like an out of body experience. As the day went on, I had more scans, more shuffling from room to room, more bloods - I didn't phone the husband, he was at work, it would be silly to worry him. (Suffice to say, that was the 2nd thing on the stupid list, the first being not calling an ambulance when it happened.) Come 4 O'clock I was dead on my feet, but was being sent up for an MRI. The machine was playing Abba's greatest hits - isn't it crazy the things we remember? I hadn't eaten all day, and had just pulled on a hoodie thinking it was only a trip to the doctors, so I was roasting having been in the hospital all day.
The MRI was done, and they said to go back to where I'd come from as there was no nurse with me at this point, so I headed back to surgical outpatients. A different shift had started by now, and an equally lovely nurse pointed at my name on her whiteboard and said she'd thought they were going to have to send out a search party. And we laughed. Because what else was there to do.
She asked where I'd come from, and when I said MRI, I was told the results wouldn't be back till tomorrow, and my notes hadn't filtered back to her yet, so I may as well go home.
I don't remember driving. The only clear memory I have is the Husband and the troops asking where I'd been.
At 4pm the following day, Tuesday, a surgeon phoned the house and my daughter answered the phone. They wanted me back at the hospital. Now. And I was to bring a bag.
I existed in a daze really, from then on. Going through the motions. It wasn't until that New Year that I thought I wanted to make sure I documented this. To make sure I remembered. And this is why I find my self talking so publicly about it here. On the 23rd of January 2019 I recorded a video and put it on youtube. I made five videos in total, talking about my feelings, my surgery, what was happening... and two years down the line, I'm still getting messages and comments on those videos from women who are going through it, who feel now like I felt then. Who want to hear a story with a good outcome, who want to talk with other women like them. So i've decided to share my journey here too -- people tell me it helped, that they felt comfort - and I just want to leave breadcrumbs where ever I can.
I want to write the rest of my story, but it takes time to work up to it. I hope you'll bear with me. I'm leaving a link below to the videos I filmed. I put lots of links for support and medical help in the video details, but if you can't find them, drop me a line.
Take care lovely ladies, i'm sending you all the good thoughts and hugs.
Jo xx
(Symptoms are few and far between, I didn't have any until the pain - i'm grateful it was there to warn me. But if you are concerned, there's more info here.)