Becky Haas

May 2019

Like many who have written this column before me, I noticed discomfort in my lower abdomen, bloating, exhaustion, and spotting. Many foods (red wine!) no longer appealed to me. An examination and transvaginal ultrasound showed a large mass and my CA-125 test results were 1469. The date of my diagnosis was December 23, 2015. Happy Holidays!

Surgery (debulking) was performed soon after the New Year. My right ovary was the size of a pineapple and I was diagnosed with stage 2A ovarian cancer. Because of the amount of fluid removed from my abdominal cavity, my oncologist recommended a more aggressive chemo protocol for stage 3 which included both Intravenous and intraperitoneal chemotherapy. I had six rounds consisting of Taxol (day 1 – IV), Cisplatin (day 2 – IP), and Taxol (day 8 – IP). A full week off in between and the next round began. With the approval of my surgeon and oncologist, I supplemented my chemo treatment with acupuncture and shiatsu massage which helped with the nausea and my peace of mind. Through grit, determination, positive thoughts, sense of humor, good wishes, prayers, lots of crossword puzzles, classic movies, and the amazing care of my husband, family, friends, medical team, colleagues, and employer, I completed chemo and survived. I even received a diploma from my IP nurses which I treasure.

That was almost three years ago. Now my CA-125 tests are in the 8-15 range and I graduated from meeting my doctor every three months to every six months. All good news and worth celebrating. However, I am finding that the cancer and treatment left me with scars both external and internal. I developed some food intolerances, hearing loss, and neuropathy. The positive focus on healing three years ago has been replaced with a sometimes unhealthy fear of recurrence. The body that I took care of and assumed would continue to be healthy, completely betrayed me with a silent killer. Every new ache and pain is internally analyzed.

So my challenge now is to remind myself that I am strong — a survivor. A person who just happened to have cancer. Cancer does not define me. So the fight with this disease continues in my head. I go to counseling, take yoga classes, watch what I eat, use my meditation apps when I feel anxiety coming on, have a massage every month, and plan trips with my husband where we can escape the day to day and remind ourselves how lucky we are. No one asks to be a member of the Cancer Club. But I am finding that the people who belong are amazing warriors – full of spirit, courage and generous with their care, empathy, and humor.

Update: red wine tastes good again and I am back to having more hair than my husband.