Heather Frazier

November 2023

I had been dealing with all sorts of gastrointestinal issues since 2016 and had seen my PCP many times, as well as a naturopath to try to diagnose the problem. Knowing what I know now about ovarian cancer, I am surprised my doctors never mentioned screening for it, given that I had two aunts who died of it. This history is in my medical chart, and I do not recall ever being advised to consider genetic testing or being offered any type of enhanced screening. Because I had a clear endoscopy, colonoscopy, and ultrasound, the doctors I saw simply said they had no answers for me. I recall a doctor visit in 2021: I was in tears of frustration, feeling desperate, and knew the deep pain I was feeling was not normal, but the doctor literally told me he had nothing to offer me that had not already been explored.

A year after that frustrating doctor appointment, at the age of 62, I experienced vaginal bleeding out of the blue, after going through menopause in my early 50’s. I scheduled an appointment with my gynecologist immediately because of the history of ovarian cancer in my family. I was quite alarmed about the bleeding. My doctor advised me to take a “wait and see” approach because two years prior, in 2020, I had a normal vaginal ultrasound. Two years! So much can change in two years! The gynecologist did a pelvic exam during which I yelled out in pain. Her diagnosis was that it was a pelvic floor muscle issue and recommended pelvic floor therapy.

Less than a month later, I was back in my doctor’s office because I felt a lump in my lower right pelvis, and I was still concerned about the episode of bleeding. I saw a nurse practitioner who was covering for my PCP, and she was much more concerned than the gynecologist I had seen a month prior! She suggested I get an ultrasound right away, which I did. It showed a 6-centimeter mass on my left ovary and a 3-centimeter mass on the right ovary. The report stated the masses were likely ovarian cancer.

I met with my gynecological oncologist less than a week later. Two weeks later, I underwent laparoscopic surgery. Three tumors were removed, and I was diagnosed with stage 2A, high grade serous carcinoma. No spread to lymph nodes or other organs was seen. The next step in treatment was the standard six rounds of chemotherapy, spaced three weeks apart. Chemo was rough, but overall, I tolerated it well. I felt tired, generally sick, and was unable to enjoy food for a week after the infusion. Then I would have two relatively normal weeks until the next round. I would be filled with a sense of dread every time I had to do the next round of chemo. By rounds three or four, I started to really look like a cancer patient with no hair; pale, thin, rash on my face; and no eyebrows. I didn’t really care because I pretty much stayed home the entire winter. I was still very cautious about being exposed to Covid and other illnesses. I stayed fairly isolated.

My adult daughter, my husband, and my best and oldest friend took care of me. My daughter was able to fly out from Austin, Texas, to be with me for the surgery and then again for the first chemo infusion. My husband sat with me for every other chemo session. My sister and mother wanted to fly out to be with me, but I didn’t want the possible exposure to Covid, so it was a lonely time. FaceTime and phone calls helped, and I reconnected with some old friends which has been wonderful.

Through genetic testing, I found out that I am positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation. I was not surprised by this given the fact that two of my aunts died of ovarian cancer. The hardest part of this whole experience was learning that my adult daughter is also BRCA2 positive which is much harder than having cancer myself.

The second hardest part was deciding if the maintenance drug my oncologist recommended was right for me or not. I struggled more with that decision than anything really. I opted to not take it for now. I was so exhausted from chemo and surgery and really needed a break from “cancer life.” Also, the data for the efficacy of the drug in stage 2 ovarian cancer is non-existent. I needed time to feel normal and healthy and not deal with possible side effects from continued treatment.

My hair is growing back; I look and feel healthy; and I have settled back into normal patterns and rhythms of life. My CT scans and blood work are showing no evidence of cancer. In the quiet of these normal days, the tender, vulnerable, hard feelings arise—the grief, the fear, the sadness of it all. When I was going through surgery, recovery, and then chemotherapy, all I could do was hold on tight and step into those days and experiences without letting myself feel too much in order to get through it. My husband kept telling me I was brave…but I didn’t feel brave! I was terrified, sad, and the treatment was difficult – but when faced with a cancer diagnosis you do what you have to do. It’s not bravery!

The fear of a recurrence lives just below the surface while I move forward with my life. I have been wondering and watching for some profound insight from this experience. I’m not sure I have any. I try to let it give me a more balanced perspective on the trivial and unimportant stresses of everyday life. I am aware of wanting to do “all the things” now, not waiting for someday in the future. I am trying to see the people I love as much as possible. I’m practicing letting go of my grip on everything and to just let things “be” more. I certainly know now that so much of what happens in life is beyond my control. Mostly I am practicing remembering that life is precious and to be gentle and tender with myself and others.