She Saved My Life: Cancer and Motherhood

Happy Birthday, Maja!

2008-03-17T19:05:00.000-07:00

Well, Maja turned 1 year old on Wednesday the 12th. I can't believe it's been a whole year. We had a wonderful party with balloons, cake, and tons of flashy toys. Her brother Tristan was a little (ok, a LOT) jealous and actually had a breakdown by the end of the day. I'll blame some of it on the sheer amount of sugar he ingested. Maja ate a whole piece of vanilla cake with buttercream frosting and strawberry cream filling.

It's funny, today is Monday, March 17th, and I totally forgot that yesterday was a year since I was diagnosed. I was working up to it all week and wondering if anyone would remember. Turns out I forgot about the cancer! Wow. I never thought that would happen.

Cancer has consumed my life completely since I was diagnosed. I was "the girl with cancer" for so long, even when I didn't have it anymore. When you're a baldy everyone knows you're a cancer patient and you can't hide from it so you embrace it. Now my hair is growing back and I don't look sick anymore. And so I forget. I forget about the pity and self-pity and the constant fear. Now I am a mom. Maja is one year old and it's about her. Thank god.

What Motivates You?

2008-01-05T10:21:00.000-08:00

Just came across this blog from a girl who is in remission from Scleroderma and plans to run a marathon next weekend.

http://gottarun26.blogspot.com/

Why? Because she can!!

Checkin' In

2007-11-20T19:59:00.000-08:00

I've been so busy lately!! I haven't had time to keep up the blog since I've been back at work. I feel like my brain is starting to get back to normal, though. I'm spending a lot of time getting back up to speed at work and still be a mommy.

My hair is growing back and I actually used product on it for the first time today (but it didn't do anything). It's dark on top and blond on the sides. Weird.

Not much to say right now...more later!

It's Official: I'm in Remission!!

2007-10-17T07:15:00.001-07:00

Just got the mark of approval from the ol' doc. She says I won't need exploratory surgery to check for anymore cancer and the CT scan was clean! Wow. I never thought the word "remission" would make me so emotional.

Now I have bloodwork every 3 months along with girlie checkups and some routine yearly mammograms for the rest of my life. Once I hit the 5 year mark without any sign of cancer (October 16th, 2012) they will consider me CURED. Holy shit.

Cause I'm the Mom Song

2007-10-01T19:41:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anSpBUxsgAU

10 Things I'd Like To Do Before I Die

2007-09-30T19:08:00.000-07:00

1. Show my paintings in a gallery.
2. Take my kids to a foreign country to volunteer our time and energy with a program like the World Hands Project.
3. Build and live in a Green house.
4. Start and run my own web design and development business.
5. Run a marathon.
6. Talk to my parents about some things that are tough to talk about.
7. See my kids graduate from college, get married, and have their own children if they choose to do those things. I just don't want to miss the good stuff.

(still working on 8 through 10)

What would you like to accomplish before you die?

I Love My Family

2007-09-24T19:22:00.000-07:00

We walked 2 miles at the Whisper Walk on Sunday morning, and I was SO EXHAUSTED! We're standing in front of the poster with names and pictures of people who are being honored or memorialized. If you look close enough you'll see a picture of me right between us. It was very emotional for me to see myself on the poster. I broke down and bawled right there at the race amongst all those people.

I feel like I've been holding in my tears for 6 months and now I can cry. I've been afraid that people think I'm not thankful when they do extraordinary things for me and I don't cry because I'm normally so emotional. I haven't wanted anyone to see me cry during this, so I've tried desperately to control it. I guess I just don't want to have to deal with my feelings. Truth is, I'd do a lot of crying behind closed doors when no one was around.

Now I can't hold it in anymore. It's mostly because I'm so damn happy. I never thought I'd get to the end! It's here. There is some restoration my body has to go through, but that's easy. Now I am free. It's kind of a release that I feel; like I've been holding my breath but now I can breathe and it's nothing but fresh air. Ah, life. It is sweet.

EDIT: Here are some pictures taken from the walk by the KC Star.

Day 5: Home Free?

2007-09-22T17:17:00.000-07:00

I went to bed last night after a short amount of time in the hot tub at my mom's house. I try to do everything I can do so that I don't have to take many pills since they all have side effects that are hard to handle. I had some hot chamomile tea in a Korean tea cup. I was so tired, but I had a tough time staying asleep because of my achy bones. I woke up several times in the night wishing it was morning already so I could just get up.

When I got up in the morning, I felt like I had a new lease on life. I knew that if I could just make it through last night I would wake up on the other side of the hill. Of course I felt much better, but I also thought I was superhuman and overdid myself a bit. By the end of the day I had also developed several mouth sores that were intensely painful! I swished with my Magic Mouthwash a couple of times before bed. I didn't take any pills the whole day except my daily Synthroid and Celexa. I'm feeling good.

Day 4: Feeling the Pain

2007-09-21T09:29:00.000-07:00

Same as yesterday, but more intense. Dan's been giving me my pills. I'm not sure what I took because I can't remember what I asked for. My tummy hurts and I can't, uh, use the restroom. That's painful. I'm really, really dizzy. Probably the most dizzy I've been so far. I had a bad day emotionally too.

My mom came to pick me up to take care of me at her house. I got my stuff together and went to lock the door from the outside. I was so confused that I couldn't figure out which way to turn my key to get it to lock. I was just turning it left and right, back and forth, not understanding what was going on. I broke down crying because I was so frustrated. I feel like I have Alzheimer's Disease. It's almost over, though. Just a couple more days.

Day 3: Duh....

2007-09-20T08:26:00.000-07:00

Ok, so yesterday was pretty fuzzy. I felt pretty terrible the whole day. I had major body aches and dizziness. I can't explain in detail (mostly because I'm so confused right now) so I'll summarize.

Dan now has to give me my pills and I'm not allowed to touch them without his assistance. I took my steroid and had to take a Lortab for my achy back and knees. It's like a deep, annoying, jittery ache. Feels like arthritis.

I had the worst night sleep so far. I kept waking up and wishing it was morning. My body hurt, I felt nauseated, my legs were jittery, I was grinding my jaw, and having bad dreams. If I can just make it through one more day...

Day 2: Feeling Fuzzy

2007-09-19T07:56:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, I woke up feeling pretty good. I took my thyroid medicine before eating, had my breakfast, fed Maja, then went for a walk with Maja in the Snugli. By the time I put her down for her first nap, I was tired. I took 1 Dexamethasone steroid at lunch. I meant to take it with breakfast but forgot. My plan was to take one with breakfast and one at around 3 p.m. so it didn't mess with my sleep.

I started feeling a little fuzzy around noon. When I get this way, I can't remember when I've taken pills or what I've taken or who I've talked to or any small details. I have to make sure someone is in charge of my pills so I don't take the wrong ones...that happened last time.

Before bedtime I took my Celexa anti-depressant, and a Lorazepam which is for anxiety. It helps me relax so I can get to sleep. I went to bed at around 11 p.m.

The day after chemo is usually a pretty easy day. Not bad.

Day 1: Chemo Day

2007-09-18T07:56:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 7:45 a.m. to both kids already being up and mostly dressed, fed, and cleaned up by Dan. I ran in to take my Synthroid medication first thing for my thyroid. I take it daily. When Grandma June arrived to watch little Maja, we took Tristan to school and headed to the Cancer Institute.

When we checked in for our 9:30 a.m. appointment, there was a woman in the waiting room who said she was nervous since this was her first time. She seemed flustered. I gave her my name and number and a little hug. This sort of thing happens a lot at the Cancer Institute. For some reason, once you walk through those doors, even if you're shy or nervous yourself in the outside world, the patients are all family. They're the only people who really understand; the only people you can talk frankly to about when your hair will return.

I was called back to be weighed and had my temperature taken. There are like 20 la-z-boy chairs each enclosed by curtains that can be opened or closed for privacy. I sat in chair 8. There was a small chair for Dan next to me. We started taking some video of my nurse accessing my port which will be up by the end of the week. She took some blood and sent it off to be checked to make sure my counts were high enough to do chemo today. They were!! White blood cell count was 5 and we just had to surpass 3.

My nurse hung up the bag of pre-meds (mostly steroids) and plugged me in to start the drip. That took about 20 minutes. The pre-meds make me feel really weird and almost drunk. It's like I've had a glass of wine because I can't quite speak with the same cadence or pronunciation. Thinking slows down. Next she hooked me up to a bag of Saline to hydrate and flush me. All these fluids make me have to use the restroom about 3 times an hour. I think the Saline takes about 15 minutes or so, but I can't really remember.

Then they hook up the big glass bottle of Taxol, a chemotherapy drug made from the bark or needles of a Yew tree. This one takes the longest: somewhere around 3 or 4 hours. I usually bring my video iPod and watch TV pilots I download from iTunes. When I get too tired to watch, I take a nap. I was cold so the nurse brought me some heated blankets. So nice!! The weirdest part about it is my legs and feet start twitching about this time from the pre-meds. It's like that restless leg syndrome thing or something. The only thing that helps it is when my support giver (today it's Dan) rubs my feet and calves.

When the Taxol is finished, I get a quick flush of Saline again, then it's time for the next chemotherapy drug called Carboplatin. Carbo is a drug manufactured from Platinum. It's a much smaller amount that comes in a bag. It takes about an hour for that drip, I think. When it's over, they flush a bit more Saline in me. They remove the needle from my chest and put a small patch on my port. It was about 3 p.m. when I realized I was done. Holy SH!T, I'm done. I looked around and there was one other person left in the infusion area. All the nurses came over and gave me a neat little award with a star on it signed by them all to commemorate my being done with chemo. I was trying so hard not to cry. There's just so much emotion and I was not prepared. I felt like I was giving an acceptance speech, but I really just wanted them all to know how nice and sweet they all are, and how much they touch people's lives. What a tough job.

I galloped out of the office and into the elevator. As I took a step out of the elevator, I suddenly had a burst of tears. It was almost a feeling of freedom that was making me cry! The weather was nice and the wind was lightly blowing in my ear. I was so excited to be done. I got in the car, and removed my scarf. I still don't have hair, but I guess it was symbolic. In a daze, we drove home. Dan left me with Maja for a couple of minutes while he went to get Tristan from school. When we were alone, I looked at her and just started bawling. Now, this was a feeling I wasn't expecting. What I felt now, was this: I was FINALLY able to concentrate on being a mommy. I felt like I was holding her for the first time, and I was about to enjoy everything that babies do. Before, I felt like she had been given to me to help me through this cancer/chemo thing. I didn't like that feeling because no mom wants to depend on her child. It should be the other way around.

Tristan came home and said, "Did you have your last chemo today?" Wow, smart little bugger. We all went to the park and Tristan had his dinner there. I felt fine, as I always do the day of chemo. I'm usually just a little "fuzzy". We walked home with the kids in the double stroller. Tristan had a bath and Maja had a bottle. She went to bed, we read Tristan some books and put him to bed, and I just lounged on the couch.

I took my evening pill called Citalopram or Celexa which is an anti-depressant. It really makes a difference for me. Celexa helps with nausea, and I like to take it at bedtime because it also makes me sleepy. The day of chemo I am kind of buzzing from all the steroids and I have a tough time getting to sleep sometimes. I was so tired, but I knew I was going to have a problem sleeping. I also tend to have some issues with eating due to the nausea, but I hadn't had any nausea yet. Remember when I said I was going to be completely honest? Well, here it is and you may not like it, but this is what works for me. I (allegedly) ate a cookie made with Marijuana that comes from a lady in town who gives it away to cancer patients for free. It doesn't taste all that great, but it's better than smoking it. It helps to relax me and make my legs stop jittering. It's pretty calming and helps make me eat when I don't want to.

I headed off to bed and fell asleep pretty quickly which is strange for me the day of chemo. However, I woke up after about an hour with some achy bones. That's from the Carbo, I think. I wanted to get up and take a pain pill, or a Tylenol PM, but it must have got away enough for me to fall back asleep.

2007-09-18T07:31:00.000-07:00

Whisper Walk for Ovarian Cancer

2007-09-16T07:46:00.001-07:00

It turns out there is a walk for Ovarian Cancer in the Kansas City area. It is called the Whisper Walk for Ovarian Cancer and it will be held September 23, 2007 at Zona Rosa shopping center. To sign up, visit www.sportkc.org.

For those who don't know, Ovarian Cancer is known as the disease that whispers because the symptoms can be misconstrued and the disease itself is hard to diagnose. Most people hear "Ovarian Cancer" and think death because it is typical that it is not diagnosed until the latter stages when there is a smaller survival rate.

However, there are some pretty consistent symptoms that, when experienced, should be investigated.

These include:
* Bloating
* Pelvic or abdominal pain
* Difficulty eating or feeling full quickly
* Urinary symptoms (urgency or frequency)

I've found that the most important advocate for your health is yourself, so if you are concerned about Ovarian Cancer, press for more testing until you are satisfied. In my case I had a bulging abdomen, (what I interpreted as) back pain, and extreme fatigue but I dismissed them as symptoms of pregnancy so I wasn't questioning anything. Bottom line: report any symptoms (whether they whisper or yell) to your doctor. If you think something is wrong, keep checking. You are your number one advocate!

Guess What

2007-09-13T14:00:00.000-07:00

I went in to get my last chemo today at 9:30 a.m. and my white blood cell counts were too low again. Instead, I got another 2 hour drip of iron at the hospital and a shot of Aranesp in the belly at the Cancer Institute. I'm going in tomorrow afternoon to get a new shot in the belly called Nupagen (sp?). It's supposed to help my white blood cells to get a boost so we can do chemo on Monday the 17th. It will then be 5 weeks between treatments. I'm starting to really get weary. Can I do this?

My Poor Body

2007-09-12T13:40:00.000-07:00

The treatment is often worse than the ailment. Do you know what it feels like to run a race and give it all you've got, and when you get to the last stretch and you have nothing else to give you just try and make sure your legs are moving even if you can't feel them? Well that's how I feel. That finish line is just ahead but I can't get there fast enough.

The bloodwork that I had done on Monday indicated a couple of new things beside the low blood counts. My TSH, or measure of my thyroid, is 0.04 and should be at least .5 or so. That means that even though I don't have a thyroid, my medicine is making my body think I have an overactive thyroid. Not a problem, I just need an adjustment on my medication. But that does explain the extreme sleepiness and dragging I've been having.

Also, my iron studies are low. So low, in fact, that I had to go to the hospital today and sit around for a couple of hours getting an infusion of the tar-looking substance. I'll have chemo tomorrow at the Cancer Institute and then go to the hospital the next day for more iron. That should help the bruising and other symptoms. I *think* that's it for infusions. I'll just have to make it through the next couple of weeks and try to get healthy.

For some reason I've been finding myself thinking of myself as two parts in the whole: my soul/mind/aura/whatever and my physical body. It's almost as if I am two different people. I used to not have this division. I am a true believer in the mind-body connection. I guess I feel a little betrayed by my body. I feel like I've treated it pretty darn well, and what do I get in return? Cancer. And now, during chemo, my body is not listening to my mind again. I'm trying to heal and understand what my body is whispering, but it's almost like it's speaking a different language all of a sudden.

Clinical Research Trial for Ovarian Cancer Patients

2007-09-12T13:35:00.000-07:00

I was asked to post this link about a clinical research trial for a drug called phenoxodiol used in patients with recurrent ovarian cancer, fallopian tube cancer, or peritoneal cancer. I don't know much about it so I can't give an opinion on it or any clinical trial program, but I believe that more information and education is better than less.

http://www.ovaturetrial.com/

There are links to study locations as well.

Damn Blood Counts

2007-09-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

I got a call today at 7:45 a.m. from my nurse practitioner saying my white blood cell count was too low and I can't do chemo today. It was 2.3 and it needs to be 3.0 at the least to do it. Argh!!! I can't describe the feeling but it's somewhere around disappointment. No one likes to receive chemotherapy but I'm so ready to be done. Every time they postpone a session, I have to postpone going back to work.

Anyway, I will have to go back on Thursday to do chemo and run my bloodwork when I get there to make sure it's high enough. Luckily I don't have to do it next week. I don't think I could wait any longer!!

The Journal Begins

2007-09-10T19:52:00.000-07:00

I said I was going to keep track of chemo week meticulously, so here goes. Chemo isn't until tomorrow (Tuesday), but the day before chemo I always have to go in and do bloodwork. I've been going to the lab where I receive my chemotherapy infusion to do my bloodwork because I worked out a special deal where I don't have to pay my co-pay ($35). I have to do bloodwork once a week so the co-pays add up. I also pay a co-pay when I do chemo every 3 weeks and when I see the doctor.

I found out that if you go to an alternative lab to do bloodwork, they can charge different prices. I found one nearby that only charges me about $5 total. When I couldn't even afford that, the Cancer Institute worked out a deal with me so I wouldn't have to pay anything if I went to their lab instead. Whew!

They draw my blood through my port in my chest. Today they took 2 vials of blood and flushed it with saline. I can taste it when they give me the saline. They'll check my CBC and CA-125. I also asked them to check my thyroid levels per my doctor to make sure my thyroid medication is working for my body.

The needle kind of hurts going in, but it's not as annoying as having a needle in your arm. Someone gave me some Lidocaine gel for some mouth sores before I got the Magic Mouthwash (don't get me started on how awesome that is!) so I'm going to rub it on my port tomorrow. I don't know if it will work, but I'm going to try it out. It gets sore if I have my port accessed two days in a row.

Stay tuned!

Chemo Postponed a Week

2007-09-05T16:56:00.000-07:00

Well, I went in to have my last exam and chemotherapy treatment today and I got the good/bad news that it would be postponed a week. My platelet counts were 65,000 (they have to be 100,000) and my white blood cell counts were also low. They say it gets worse and worse toward the end and harder to recover between treatments. I feel pretty good; just tired.

So my doctor said she thinks I'm just fine and didn't notice anything abnormal. I will have a CAT scan 3 weeks after my last chemo. I will also have to have a colonoscopy and a mammogram. Not too excited about either of those but I'll get them regularly for the rest of my life.

So that's it. I'll take some video during chemo and record the daily goings-on and pill-popping starting Tuesday, September 11th. Can't wait to be done!!!

Chemo Week: I Can See the Light!

2007-09-04T21:20:00.000-07:00

My last chemotherapy treatment is set for Wednesday morning. I have a checkup with my oncologist at 9:15 a.m. to take a look and make sure everything seems "normal". I guess we'll talk about what happens next, when I come back for checkups or bloodwork, and to tie up loose ends. She said last time that I'll have a CAT scan done to look for any other weird stuff in my body. Not sure if I can spare any more organs so it better come back clean!

Assuming I have chemo tomorrow (they typically get postponed a week), I've decided to give a run-down on how I feel and what medications I have to take throughout the day for every day of chemo week since it's my last one. I wanted to do this in case there was someone out there who was going through this too, or is about to, and was interested in how I deal with it. I plan on being completely honest. I do not want anyone to assume that the medications that I take and how I take them are the right ones for them unless they've spoken to their doctor about it.

Everyone has a different way of coping with pain, and for me, every chemo week is different. I've learned how to lessen some of the effects but I'd be lying if I said I was pain free. The bottom line is most effects have a pill and most pills have an effect. New ailments occur all the time. This is just how I try to survive.

Chemo Brain

2007-08-20T19:25:00.000-07:00

Chemo Brain is real.
During the week of chemo
I can't remember

ends of sentences
or whether I've taken pills.
I get quite confused.

It lasts a long time;
they say up to a whole year
after treatment's done.

At least I have one
more thing to blame memory
and bitchiness on.

Thyroid? What's a Thyroid?

2007-08-13T16:51:00.001-07:00

Just when you think you can't handle anything else, life hands you another "WTF". After my surgery in April and a week to recover, I got a voicemail from my nurse practitioner at the oncologist office. When I called her back she was munching on her lunch. Between bites I could hear her rustling through folders trying to find my chart. She said (chewing), "Oh, hi, Hillary. We got the results back from your thyroid tests done in the hospital. Looks like you have growths on both sides of it." I was so shocked, I don't even remember hanging up the phone. I called my mom and started just sobbing. This was such a scary moment for me: I hadn't let my fears about cancer get too intertwined in my life up to this point. All I could think about was "am I going to die?", and "I can't leave my kids". Had cancer invaded my whole body?

I met with the surgeon within the next couple of days. He said the cells in the two growths on either side of my thyroid were called "follicular neoplasms" which means they can't say that they are specifically cancerous but they would have to remove the growths to be sure. He said they would try and leave half of my thyroid so I wouldn't have to take medication for the rest of my life. For those of you who don't know, the thyroid is located right below where your Adam's Apple would be, adjacent to the vocal chords.

I checked into the hospital exactly 2 weeks after the last massive surgery. This one was much less painful, but it's pretty scary when you know someone is going to slit your throat while you're unconscious. I woke up unable to talk with a sore throat like I had swallowed a cactus. Luckily for me, my surgeon was able to combine the thyroid surgery with the insertion of a port (port-a-cath, like picc line) into my chest so I could receive my chemotherapy treatments through that instead of through an IV in my arm.

My doctor came in later in the day to say that he had had to remove the entire thyroid. Unfortunate since the pathologist didn't think it was cancerous after all. Oh well, just another scar to add to the list. Besides, this one was cool. It was a 3 inch gash across the base of my throat! I was starting to look pretty tough.

Thanks For the Support

2007-08-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

We had a blast at the race today. Aside from waking up at 5:45 am to get everyone fed and down there before traffic got too bad, the hot hot heat, and the silly Scientologist preachers, we really had a good experience. I felt so much camaraderie, and even though I don't have the same kind of cancer, a lot of us have the same or similar therapies. It's unfortunate that it's the pain that brings us together.

Thanks to Mom, Teresa and Margie for walking with us, and Miranda et al for meeting up after the race.

Meeting Place Before the Race

2007-08-10T19:54:00.000-07:00

Ok. I've had a lot of people decide to walk or run the race this Sunday the 12th. I've never done this one so I don't know a good place to meet so I've tried to come up with something. For those of you who want to meet up before the race, Dan, Tristan, Maja, and I will be leaving our house at 6:45 am in order to find parking and get situated with the kids. If you'd like to, feel free to meet at our house in time to leave by then. The 1 mile starts at 7:45 am (after the 5K competitive run at 7:30).

I know there will be tons of people there so if you want to walk with us but prefer to meet there and can't find us, I'll have my cell phone on me.

Also, there was some talk about brunch afterward at First Watch. I think I'm in, but we'll see how I feel after a mile of walking with a 15 pound babe strapped to my chest. I'm so excited to do this! Yippee!!

See you all at the race!

Race for the Cure

2007-07-27T07:39:00.000-07:00

I am a runner. That's how I've always described myself whether I'm in shape or not. I ran cross country and track for Ft. Collins High School, Fort Lewis College and Kansas State University. I love to run. I haven't run since I was about 4 months pregnant with Maja. Obviously, I've had some medical conditions and surgeries to recover from which have prevented me from doing so.

Cancer and chemo make me want to detoxify my body; for the most part, I'm only hungry for healthy foods and juice. It also makes me really want to run again, probably because I can't. So, I'm going to take the running out of the race and do the things I can do. I walk every single morning, whether it's around the block or up to a mile. I strap Maja onto my chest and we are silent for the next half hour or so. It provides a time for me to be with nature, observe the rest of the world, and to think about life. It's a good time to meditate.

All of this is fine and good, but I realized that the runner in me is missing something: a race! Now, I know I can't compete in the Bolder Boulder right now, but I think there is another wonderful race where simply finishing is winning, and walking is just as good. The best race for me at this point is the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I don't have Breast Cancer, but this would be a great chance for me to connect with other women with Cancer who are fighting for their lives. I will race for my Aunt Gail who survived Breast Cancer last year and continues to show her support for me. If anyone else would like to accompany me and my family, please join me! You need not be in the shape of your life to compete in this race, but I guarantee it will make you thankful for the health you do have.

The race is Sunday, August 12th at Union Station in Kansas City, MO.

http://www.komenkansascity.org/Default.asp

Let's Get Real

2007-07-26T20:33:00.000-07:00

Here is a blog covering the news about another woman with cancer. I don't know her, but it made me very sad to read that she had passed away this week. We share a lot of similarities so it's been hard for me to think about. Please send her family as much positive energy as you can.

http://karincarter.blogspot.com/

The Bald Lady

2007-07-17T19:25:00.000-07:00

I was taking my daughter for a walk a couple of days ago and feeling pretty down on myself; pretty lonely. I enjoy my walks because I can have silence and move inward for awhile. A couple of blocks into it, I came up on a small intersection where a car had stopped at the stop sign perpendicular to me. It would take me awhile to get to the intersection so the car could have gone but it rested there, waiting for me to get closer. The driver was a bald woman wearing a baseball cap like the one I was wearing, and glasses. She was looking at me and grinning the biggest grin she could. I couldn't help smiling back at her and was suddenly so happy. I noticed a few other people in the car and they turned to look and smile at me too. The car turned the corner in front of me and headed on it's way. I watched it get smaller as it climbed the hill, then dipped out of sight as it passed the crest. I walked faster, subconsciously following the car, still smiling. I wanted her to come back so badly! I really needed that. Sometimes just knowing there are other people like you out there doing exactly what you're doing can make a world of difference.

Cancer Guilt

2007-07-13T19:04:00.001-07:00

There is a lot of guilt associated with cancer. For me it seems endless. When I resolve one thing I feel guilty about, I start feeling guilty about something else but there's always something. Sometimes there are many things I feel guilty about.

When I first started thinking about the cancer I thought I must have done something to my body to create this cancer in myself. Maybe it was that cigarette I smoked in 8th grade. Maybe my vegetarianism somehow robbed my body of something it needed. Maybe I was too promiscuous or smoked too much pot in college. Were my maternity pants too tight? I must have used the wrong tampons. Or maybe I shouldn't have used them at all. My self-accusing thoughts abound.

Then I started feeling guilty that I was robbing my children of this time in their lives. Maja hasn't had her pictures taken yet mostly because we don't have the time between chemo treatments and hospital trips but partially because we're spending all our money on prescriptions and medical bills. I feel guilty that almost every dollar we have goes to me and my needs, not to them. I feel guilty that Tristan is so angry lately. I think I've been trying to talk to him about cancer too much. He's having a hard time with it.

Now I'm starting to feel guilty that I wasn't prepared enough for any of this. Perhaps I should have had a cancer savings. I also feel guilty that I can't take some of the side effects like mouth sores. I feel guilty when I have to ask for help. I don't like not being able to do things on my own. One of those things is mowing my lawn. That's just a vanity issue, right? I can live without a mowed lawn. I won't get sicker if my grass is several inches higher. I want my lawn mowed but I don't need it. Same with the mouth sores. I can live with them. It hurts bad but no one can see them and I just have to eat slower and maybe not talk as much. I could use the $25 for the Magic Mouthwash and put it toward getting Maja's pictures taken.

I feel guilty about not working when I can. There are probably five good days between treatments when I could physically function. I should be working. On that same note, I feel guilty about going out or having fun. If I'm capable of having fun, I should be capable of working. And I should definitely not be having a drink and making it harder for my body to bounce back from treatment.

I feel very guilty about not being sick all the time because I know there are other people out there who are very ill during chemo. On the other hand, when I am sick from chemo, I feel guilty that I'm not stronger (insert guilt for not treating my body better pre-cancer) and that I need help taking care of my children/house/self.

It's just a huge cycle of guilt. It's not healthy and is incredibly irrational, I know. It will never completely go away. Guilt should be listed as one of the side effects of cancer.

Holy Crap, It's My Birthday!

2007-07-03T07:15:00.001-07:00

I'm one of those people who really takes their birthday too seriously. I have a birthweek and a birthmonth that are almost as big as the birthday itself. Anyway, I turned 32 last Monday and I had been feeling pretty good. It was the week after chemo which is when my white blood count tends to be low, but I'm bouncing back after the nausea and achy joints from the drugs.

The thing that happens with chemo is, you get "premeds" which are steroids and tylenol that will help you take the chemo better and not get as nauseated. I really just get tired and sleep the whole time. Then they give you the chemo. I get two different kinds and it takes a total of around 4 hours for the whole thing. Then I get a bunch of steriods (two different pills to take several times daily, and one to take on the onset of nausea). I also get a lot of drugs to help with the side effects of chemo and the side effects of the drugs that help those side effects, like hydrocodone or Lortab for my achy joints. The Lortab and chemo make my, uh, "plumbing" malfunction, so I have to take Colase which is a stool softener. TMI, I know.

Well, to make a long story short, most everything I take has it's own side effect that I can go ahead and take another pill for until I get to a side effect I can deal with. This last time I ended up just having too many problems with the plumbing issue and a lot of vomiting. If you're not on chemo I don't think it's a big deal, but since I am, I had to head to the hospital at 6:00 am the day of my birthday. Now, I'm not wallowing in self-pity (well....not really). I had a really great nap, some good drugs in the hospital, and I even got a little cupcake that said "Happy Birthday" on it from the hospital cafeteria.

The point is, sh*t happens. I felt like crap from the chemo anyway. It's not like I was going to go on a bender and hit the strip clubs anyway. I have to admit I was pretty down on myself while in the hospital. I finally got out in the afternoon. Dan and I walked down the hall of the cancer ward and some people had their doors open. I looked in at a few patients and realized how freakin' lucky I am to be having a birthday for goodness sakes. At least one of those people I looked in at was on their death bed and would not live to see another birthday, but they all peered out at me and smiled. So from here on out, my birthday will still be a fabulous day that I celebrate endlessly, but for a different reason: because I AM ALIVE.

Welcome to the Club

2007-06-23T09:35:00.000-07:00

You see the women banded together, arm in arm, with their pink t-shirts, bald heads, and baseball caps with ribbons on them and think, "wow, now that's a group of courageous women". You kind of envy those women and their camaraderie. I know I did.

I've always felt like I needed to be a member of some kind of group and had trouble finding it. I'm so embarrassed to say this, but I almost wished something big would happen to me so I could have something to be motivated by; something to identify myself with. Do you ever hear about those people who get in horrific car accidents and then they all of a sudden have a greater respect for life, or some purpose they may not have had before? I think I was looking for that purpose.

After my surgery, I went into the Cancer Institute where my oncologist's office is and we talked about what was going to happen next. She told me I was in Stage IC Clear Cell Ovarian Cancer which is an epithelial cancer. Stage I is when only one ovary has cancer, II is when both ovaries have cancer, III is when it has spread to other areas of the abdomen (uterus, fallopian tubes, etc.), and IV is when it has metastasized to other areas of the body like the lungs. The C part is the grade of cancer. "A" is a very slow-growing, non-aggressive cancer, and "C" is the most aggressive and easily metastatic. My tumor had grown very large in such a short period of time and was so close to rupturing but was only on one ovary.

During my office visit, I was taken on a trip around the chemo ward for introductions. It is a very quiet place, with people sleeping in large La-Z-Boy chairs while hooked up to bags and bottles of meds. I walked in, fully aware of my long, hair-sprayed hair, and gazed upon all the women and men receiving chemo. Most had some kind of headwrap or hat on. One lady had a turban, one a scarf. There was a man with a full, bushy head of hair. The nurse brought me over to meet a woman in her mid-50's who was also bald with a baseball cap on. She looked rather sporty and energetic. She was connected to her meds through her chest using a port which is a catheter inserted under the skin above the collar bone to administer chemo. The nurse wanted me to see her port because she wanted me to have one as well. I asked all sorts of questions about it; one of which was "does your bra-strap get in the way?". As soon as the words left my mouth, this confident woman looked slightly embarrassed and I realized she had no breasts and was probably not wearing a bra. She sheepishly said, "No."

After leaving the chemo ward I felt almost evil. I was secretly excited to be a member of this group, even after meeting the woman with no breasts. I guess I felt like I could some how feed off these people's confidence and motivation, something I was lacking, and that was more important than worrying about my body parts. I would use this energy to my advantage and make it through this with a new outlook on life, a new purpose, and be just like all those women who do that Susan G. Komen race with linked arms. I almost couldn't wait to lose my hair even. I wasn't really looking forward to it, but I wanted people to know what I was going through and I felt like a faker with just a t-shirt or a ribbon citing my impending fight. Losing your hair is a visible mark that you have cancer.

What I didn't know is that later in the process I would feel much, much different about it. I would feel more alone at times than I did before the cancer diagnosis. I would need much more help. I wouldn't even be able to trudge through a cancer walk on my own. Luckily, I wouldn't have to.

Surgery and Staging

2007-06-13T19:59:00.000-07:00

After 2 days without solid foods, the last 8 hours with nothing at all, I checked into the hospital for surgery scheduled at 9:00 am on April 9th, 2007. I happened to see a friend, Kirsten, who was checking in at the same time for surgery on her spine. We did our bloodwork together and waited to be called to the pre-op area together. After about 15 minutes of waiting, I was called to pre-op.

The pre-op area was a room in the basement without windows that had a large nurse's area in the middle with several people working and a bunch of smaller rooms lining it with curtains as doors. Each room had a hospital bed, a chair, and some supplies.

I followed a nurse to one of the curtained rooms that had a piece of paper with my last name handwritten on it. She told me to take my clothes off and put them in a plastic bag provided for me which she called "a nice piece of luggage". I did that and hopped into the hospital bed. She came back quickly and put a heated blanket on me. I noticed there was a picture of a field with some flowers about 4" by 6" on the ceiling directly above me. Someone must have put it there to meditate on. She left and another nurse came in. The new nurse asked me a lot of questions about my health and sat down to put my IV in. She tried twice in the bend of my arm with no success...and a lot of pain. Then she tried on the top of my hand after putting some anesthetic in it to numb it up. It took several tries to get that one in too. My whole arm was purple!

After about 15 minutes, my mom and my fiance came in to sit with me until surgery would start. In the meantime, I walked to the next room over where Kirsten was getting set up too. We hugged and asked eachother if the other was scared and we both said "yes". I went back to my room and met with the anesthesiologist. He told me what he expected to happen when they put me to sleep. Eventually it was time to go to surgery. I said good-bye to my family and a nurse wheeled me off to the OR on the same floor just down the hall. I remember starting to feel really happy on the way to the room, getting inside the OR and things just going blank almost immediately.

When I woke up I was in a recovery room with several other people yelling and writhing, and some nurses running around. I was in intense pain. I could barely speak. Through my post-surgery fog I could see that Kirsten was in the bed to my left. She looked good and was fully awake. I heard screaming from the man to my right. He was yelling about his leg and how much pain he was in and to make it stop. It scared me a little. I felt like I was in an army medical tent after a bombing. The clock was directly in front of me, and I think it said 1:30 pm. A nurse came to my bedside when she noticed I was awake and asked me if I was in pain and I sort of sobbed "yes". Dan came in to see me and I don't remember what we talked about, just that I hurt. The nurse gave me something to make me feel better and I faded back into a deep sleep.

I woke up again a few hours later and they started wheeling me to my hospital room. I saw my mom and Dan sitting outside my room. The transport people who wheeled me to my room told them to stay outside while they moved me to my hospital bed. They told me how to move over. I was in terrible, terrible pain so each movement was breathtaking. I needed to do it slowly, but apparently one of the transport nurses needed me to move faster so she grabbed my legs and just shoved me over, saying I needed to do just do it. I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW BADLY THAT HURT. I hesitate to say this, but at that moment, I began to wonder if dying might be better than that pain. I groaned an awful groan and began to panic. The transport nurses left and my mom and Dan came in. I was crying because of the pain, but it hurt to cry so I was trying not to.

A new nurse came in and showed me how to work my morphine pump (yay!). I quickly learned that you could push it every 6 or 7 minutes so I just watched the clock and pressed it as soon as I knew I could for the next few hours. That first night was a total haze but I do remember the deep, dark depression I sunk into at that point. I also had a panic attack or two.

I was hooked up to so many machines that they moved me to a larger room the next day so all the equipment could fit. I stayed in the hospital for 5 days. During my stay they also performed a fine needle aspiration on my thyroid to check for cancerous cells. My doctor and her assistant came to see me a few days later too. They came with a huge entourage of nurses. They told me that they didn't find any cancerous cells in any of the 40 biopsies they took from my abdomen and that everything looked very healthy. However, I was still going to have to undergo chemotherapy because of the size of the tumor that was removed and the rapidity with which it grew. Even though they didn't find any cancerous cells in my abdomen, there was a chance the tumor shed before it was removed and some cancerous cells traveled to other places in my body.

Velcro Head

2007-06-11T06:44:00.000-07:00

My head has Velcro.

It attaches to pillows,

and sometimes hats too.

Thank You

2007-06-08T07:37:00.000-07:00

...to...

Suzanne for the wonderful homemade dinners and book for Tristan.
Shan for mowing my lawn continuously and even using the weed-wacker!
Kristin for the food I can't remember because of all the drugs I was taking...(they call that "chemo brain"!)
Jennifer W. for the casserole and just hanging out on the front porch with some beers.
Jennifer N. for the kick-@ss calzones and quiche, and the sweet hats to keep my noggin warm.
Lori for bringing food, hanging out, and just being a really great friend during this time.
Stephanie and Tasha for bringing Rudy's Sopapillas...my favorite!
Jackie and Julie for bringing snacks to eat during my down week.
Justin and Meg for the loads of groceries for packing lunches and just serving dinners on the fly.
Jon for bringing us pizza from our favorite restaurant.
Leilan for being kind to my mom and bringing the yummy cake.
Makaela for being an outstanding person and giving the best way she knows how--project management!
Jesse and Mike for sheetrocking and electric work on the sunroom.
Cindy for all the phone calls and attention I need, and the beautiful plant.
Billie and Rich for just thinking about me constantly....oh, and the iPod. :)
Jerry for helping me get to my bloodwork once a week and helping me with my car.
Molly for putting family first and babysitting when I know she has other things to do.
Cassie for being a good friend and sister.
Mom for of course being a mom and taking care of me during chemo week, and for forcing me to ask about drugs that will help me feel better.
Dad for actually asking how I'm feeling instead of making this about him (seriously, that's a big one).
Grandma M. for sending me countless cards (at least 2 per week) and calling all the time.
Aunt Trish for sending the teddy bear, tea, and candy and worrying about me.
Aunt Lin for asking about me and sending me links to websites that will help.
Uncle Greg for the books for Tristan that will help him understand what's going on, and being an insider on how I feel.
Gail for helping me decide on the port and answering any questions about chemo I've had.
Tabitha for being relatable and knowing what's going on...probably the only person who knows EXACTLY how I feel.
Meika for just talking to me when I needed someone to talk to and missed her so, so much.
LeAnne for being a wealth of knowledge, making sure I feel ok, and asking her mom for samples.
Lily and Jason for the phone calls, flowers, and constant good thoughts.
June for babysitting me during my first chemo week and watching Maja when my other mom couldn't be there.
Teresa for loaning us the bed for visitors, the flowers, and watching the kids.
Margie for the loads of cards she sends!
Annette and Steve for praying for our family.
Megan for using her mad ninja-chef skills to produce the best mac n' cheese, soup, and grilled vegetable lazagne a girl could ask for.
Miss Jeanetta and Miss Andrea for taking such good care of our little boy, Tristan, and thinking about us often.
Debi B. for the candle, the sippy cup lids, and for being thoughtful.
Chris S. for the pain relief information and his movie collection.
Angie for the fantastic veggie burgers and pasta salad.
Chris B. for helping me take Maja to the doctor by keeping Tristan occupied.
Vicky for sending the post-natal tea and aromatherapy, and for offering to help in any way when I know she's busy with her own pregnancy (girl, you're so sweet...sorry I forgot to mention you earlier. Damn!)
Bridget for being a good listener and being honest, letting me vent, and understanding when I don't want to talk.
Sean and Kathleen for the beautiful tulips.
Kevin and Dena for the beautiful roses.
Muller and Co. for the beautiful lilies at the hospital, and for being so understanding and helpful--what a great bunch of people and a great organization to work for!!
Dan for being as close to me as he can and being the best man a girl can have.
Tristan for understanding what cancer is and how it hurts, for giving me his blanket, and loving me and worrying about me.
Maja for always smiling and being happy even when I'm not, and for saving my life.

Breastfeeding and the CT Scan

2007-06-06T12:37:00.000-07:00

So, I was scheduled a CT scan 2 weeks after Maja's birth to "make sure there wasn't anything obvious" before I went in for the hysterectomy. I had to drink like a liter of the contrast solution stuff that tastes terrible. Meanwhile, I had been breastfeeding and was quite successful at it. I bought all the new tubing and equipment for the double Medela Pump-in-style Advance and was even pumping a little already. If you're not a mother, haven't breastfed, or it didn't work out for you, it might not be as important to you, but I was very set on doing it for at least the first several months. Not only do I feel it's best for the baby's health, but there is quite a bonding that occurs and it just feels natural to me. In short: I LOVED IT.

The Breastfeeding Drama

When I got to the imaging office where I was to undergo the CT scan of my chest and abdomen, Maja was sleeping and I had some stored breastmilk for my sister to feed her if she woke up while I was in the scan. I suddenly realized that I needed to check with the lactation consultants (who had been quite the lifesavers and so helpful) at the hospital where I delivered to see if I could still breastfeed after drinking the solution. I can't believe I forgot about that!!! They said I could breastfeed after the solution, but the dye that would be inserted prior to the scan could not be consumed by the baby. I would have to "pump and dump" for 24 hours after the scan. That meant I would have to feed Maja formula for the next day with no transition period since I only had a few ounces stored. I was so very sad. I had already fed her from my breast for the last time. It's hard to explain the bond a mother has with her breastfeeding baby, but I guess I could say I sort felt a sense of loss when I had to stop. Even though I could have resumed after 24 hours, I decided to stop completely since I would have surgery the next week and various other medical procedures would probably pop up. It would be best to try and dry up before surgery so I was at least a little less uncomfortable.

The Scan

I went into the room where the scan would be performed and was scared sh*tless. Why? I don't know. I've never had a CT scan before and it was a huge tubular vault I was going to have to willingly climb into and remain still and not breathe while some whirly thingy spun around me making a noise that sounded like the aliens from that Tom Cruise movie. Freaked me out. Anyway, it didn't hurt and I was scared for nothing but it would have been nice to have been prepared.

The Results

A couple of days later I got a call from a nurse practitioner at the oncologist's office saying they needed to talk to me about the scan. When I got on the phone with the nurse, she was chewing on her lunch and very nonchalantly says they found some nodules on my thyroid that would need to be biopsied between bites. Holy crap! What??! I immediately hang up and freak out. Has my cancer spread? Where the hell is my thyroid? What does my thyroid do? Do I have thyroid cancer too? If it's in my thyroid and my ovaries, where else did it stop along the way?? More importantly, WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE MY BODY HATE ME?

This was the first time I actually cried about the cancer. This was the first time I felt the gravity of the situation. I had cried a little before when telling people about my situation, but mostly because I didn't know how to tell them and I felt more sorry for them having to worry about me than anything else. That day I went into a downward spiral of worry, wonder, and guilt. I felt guilty that I didn't treat my body better. I felt guilty that I took advantage of my physique. I felt most guilty that there was a possibility that my son and daughter might have to grow up without a mom.

Sick of Being Bald

2007-06-04T07:37:00.000-07:00

Well, my hair started falling out on Mother's Day, 12 days after my first chemo treatment. I was expecting another week before I had to worry about it. I pretended it wasn't happening but a couple of days later there was no pretending. I went to Chop Tops to get my hair cut off short immediately. Very cute haircut, but if I had wanted short hair I would have had short hair, you know?

During my second chemo treatment week the bald spots and constantly picking hair out of my mouth, off my shoulders, and off my baby started getting to me so I had my mom shave it all off. It actually felt really, really good. I don't have to spend time doing my hair and I even got some camo pants to match my new look. It's sort of freeing, really.

I'm about to undergo my third chemo treatment and I'm looking in the mirror wishing I had some hair. I have a wig, various hats, scarves, and could even wear one of Maja's stick-on bows if I felt like it. I feel like I've exhausted all looks that could go with a bald head today. I'm such a girlie-girl and I love to wear frilly dresses, but I end up looking like a teenage boy in a dress. Now, I can appreciate a man in a dress...really, I can. I'm just sick of being GI Jane. Boo!

Oh, and razor burn on your head??? That sucks too.

Meeting the Oncologist

2007-06-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

I went to my OB's office to get my staples out from the c-section a week after the incision was made. She referred me to who would be my gynecologic oncologist for an appointment the next week. Things were moving so fast!

Fifteen days from the date my daughter was born I met the oncologist who I'd soon have a close relationship with. I actually still had some butterfly tape over my incision that she took off for me. She did the exam and frequently expressed how sorry she was for me. I didn't understand what I was getting into. Everyone felt so bad for me and I was just rolling with the punches. She let me ask questions and gave me all the information she had about the disease.

She told me that the chance of survival from this disease would be greatly increased if I had a total hysterectomy. In the surgery business, this is called something like a total abdominal hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oopherectomy, or a TAHBSO. That means the removal of my uterus, both fallopian tubes, both ovaries (I only had one left), and they would also take a lymph node or two from my pelvis and several other biopsies in my abdomen. They would also remove some fatty tissue on my bowels that cancer tends to gravitate toward. If there was visible cancer in my bowels, they would section it off and reattach it.

They gave me a "bowel prep kit" to drink the day before surgery and told me I couldn't have any solids for two days prior. I'm a vegetarian so I knew this part would be exceptionally hard, and it was. The surgery was set for April 9th, two weeks later. I wouldn't see my oncologist again until after surgery.

The Story of My Diagnosis

2007-05-31T08:49:00.000-07:00

My name is Hillary and I have Clear Cell Ovarian Cancer. Here is my story.

I've been living in my little bungalow with my boyfriend, Dan, for a little over 4 years. We have a 3 year old son, Tristan. We had been thinking of getting married but it hasn't been a priority in our lives since we have so many other things going on. I guess you could call us hippies.

We decided we wanted another little bundle of joy to add to our family in the summer of 2006 and, lo and behold, I found out I was pregnant by the end of the summer and the due date was St. Patty's Day of 2007. I had a pretty uneventful first trimester. During week 20 I had an ultrasound. The technician noticed a cyst on my right ovary that measured about 5cm in diameter, but said it was very common to have "pregnancy cysts" and that they would watch it but it would probably go away on its own. I wasn't really worried.

As I started to get bigger and rounder, I started getting more exhausted and my back started to hurt, just like any normal pregnancy. I didn't have any other complaints. I'd been through this before with my first pregnancy and I actually felt pretty good comparatively. During week 34 I had another ultrasound and no one said anything about the cyst. I had actually forgotten about it by that time. They did find that our soon-to-be little girl was transverse breech, meaning that she was not in the head down position, but she was kind of stuck sideways. No wonder I was so uncomfortable! I'm a pretty skinny girl normally, so the back pain now made sense. One thing I did NOT want was a c-section so we decided to try and turn her in a procedure called a version scheduled for the next week.

I was not looking forward to a medical intervention such as a version so I had been trying various methods at home to get her to turn on her own. I used a flashlight to shine on my belly where I wanted her head to go and a bag of frozen peas where I wanted her feet to be. I did this every night until our appointment and I believe I felt her move in the proper direction. When we got to our appointment at the hospital, they had to perform another ultrasound to see where she was and if she had turned on her own. The little bugger had! She was facing south. That was very exciting.

The technician kept asking us questions about if this was a normal pregnancy and if we had anything we were wondering about. She left the room to get the doctor who was originally going to perform the version and when he returned things started getting odd. He looked at the pictures taken from the ultrasound and said that yes, she had moved, but that there was a very large cyst on my right ovary. We had forgotten all about that cyst. It now measured 11cm in diameter (the baby's head measured close to the same at that point) and was covering the birth canal. He said we would have to have a c-section because he didn't think the baby would be able to pass through, and they would want to look at the cyst anyway.

I was devastated. I felt so out of control. For some reason I was most upset about not being able to deliver her in the event that I had to do it on my own, like if I got locked in a trunk, or got lost in the woods or something. I eventually got over it as best I could and started focusing on getting through the surgery and healing. By week 37 I was put on bed rest due to extreme fatigue and back pain because of the cyst and we scheduled the c-section for week 39. I was feeling healthy and ready to have my body back.

The c-section was so scary. I had never had surgery before, so I didn't know what to expect. They wouldn't let Dan in the OR while they were inserting the spinal anesthetic so I was really having a tough time with trying to relax. Once they got me on the table and Dan by my side, I felt better. My OB started the procedure at 10:30 and she was born at 10:37 am. During the time we were oh-ing and ah-ing over our newborn, Maja, and laughing about how we thought she'd be so big when she only weighed 6 pounds 15 ounces, my doctor was inspecting my ovary. She sent a frozen section down to pathology to be tested and was waiting on the results. It was taking a very long time for them to get back to her. I ended up being open on the table for somewhere around 45 minutes I could tell they were getting anxious to close me up. They finally did and I went to recovery. That was a Monday.

I was in some pain, but I recovered pretty well that week. I remember telling my doctor I felt like I could run a marathon. I was ready to go home on Friday. Friday morning at 7 am, my doctor came in and woke us all up. She said she had to talk to us. She told us that she had to remove the entire ovary which suspected she would, and that the results had come back from pathology finally. She said the reason it had taken so long was because the pathologist couldn't believe what he was seeing and had to do more tests to make sure. I had Clear Cell Ovarian Cancer which was a very rare form of Ovarian Cancer and it was very aggressive. The mean age of onset for this type was 57 years old and I was only 31. I could not believe what I was hearing. I didn't cry. I had a gorgeous newborn to add to my great family and I was so happy, how could I worry about myself now? I guess I would have to put off that marathon.