Alice McElhaney

January 2023

Alice’s adventures began in mid-October 2020 with a diagnosis of advanced ovarian cancer with metastases to the omentum, liver, and spleen. I thought it was a death sentence. I was sure that I would be dead Christmas Day; after all, my parents died just before Christmas the two previous years on the 23^rd, and the 24^th. It seemed that I would continue the pattern they had set.

I had been experiencing a variety of symptoms for several months, but cancer never crossed my mind. Pain here and there—maybe I was doing too much yard work, or was I too sedentary? Fatigue, and an appetite that was off kilter—I just needed to eat healthier. And, if I were to eat more fiber, I could get rid of the persistent constipation—or so I thought. Even my cat was acting strangely.  He insisted on smelling my breath, but then he acted “mean” toward me. Little did I know that he was trying to tell me that something was very wrong!

Those close to me offered their advice saying that I was depressed after losing both parents, but I didn’t feel that explained enough. I was afraid to go to urgent care, or to emergency, where I thought I would surely catch COVID. Besides, I didn’t feel that bad. I had a few video or phone appointments with my doctor. I started on an antidepressant, and I just felt worse. In the next video appointment, I said that I did not want to try a different antidepressant until we figured out my abdominal pain. It clicked, and my doctor immediately said that I should see a gynecologist. She rushed an appointment for a real in-person exam; I was relieved that I would get hands-on help. Two weeks later, I was at the appointment and answering so very many questions! I wondered about all the questions, but she finally did the pelvic exam. I left knowing that she found something and that surgery was likely needed, but I was sure it was something simple, something benign. She ordered an ultrasound, and the appointment scheduler mentioned an opening just a few days later in the evening when my sister could go with me. That was the beginning of many more tests and appointments!

I reached out to friends from my church to ask for prayers and advice. They have been so encouraging throughout my adventure. The wife survived breast cancer, and her husband gave me excellent advice from his caregiver perspective. I am grateful for their continuing support.

At my first consultation, my sister at my side, I only heard the doctor say “metastasized” while my sister heard “treatable.” My sister had to repeatedly remind me to focus on the word “treatable.” I also focused on the only person that I knew who had battled ovarian cancer, a former coworker named Terrilyn. Between the COVID lockdown, and position changes I was not able to reach out to her, but I held tightly to her survival as a ray of hope for me to also survive.

I asked an old friend to cut my long hair for donation before I even began chemo. We made it a fun event and took lots of photos. It was a long two weeks before my first chemo.

That first chemo went smoothly despite my anxiety. I was working a part-time, temporary, work from home job, so I figured that I would not miss much time. I did okay for a couple of days, but the cancer and chemo combined brought me to rock-bottom. I went to the emergency room Saturday morning, just as people from church arrived to clean up my yard for winter. I left the hospital after two unhelpful nights, realizing that I needed to rest in my bed and eat the pineapple that I was craving. My pain began to subside, and the bloating reduced; the chemo was working!

The initial three rounds of chemo stretched out to six before the cancer receded enough for a successful surgery at the end of March. My best friend moved in for several weeks to care for me. Another friend covered when needed. I could see the end in sight; just three more rounds of chemo, and everything would be over! I was excited to reach the end.

I am blessed to be living each day that I have. I am making my bucket list of activities to experience; helping others is at the top of that list. With that top item in mind, I have stopped to chat with total strangers in a store, making sure they know the signs of ovarian cancer and that they should trust their pets. So far, I have had two women consider seeing their doctor, one based on symptoms that I mentioned, and another woman, already concerned about a symptom, realizing that her dog might be trying to tell her something is very wrong.

I will continue to tell my amazing story to encourage others who may feel as though there is no hope. I will continue to tell others about the symptoms of ovarian cancer because I don’t know which person will be the one out of seventy-eight women. I will continue to treasure every day because time is precious.