Jana Freiberger

June 2017

I am 59 years old and live in Longview, WA with my husband of 33 years, Denny, and 10 month old cocky and joyful Westie, Mica. I am a retired chemical engineer, organization development consultant and manufacturing manager. I am also a mother, grandmother, traveler, nature lover, journaler, bedside singer, walker and hiker.

I share my story on the two-year anniversary of first feeling symptoms and on the one-year anniversary of my first “In Her Own Words” piece.

Initial symptoms of pangs of belly pain and bloating appeared in May of 2015, followed by diagnosis and total hysterectomy in July, staging at 3C, then 6 cycles of frontline chemo. I began 2016 with “no evidence of disease” and my CA125 levels well within the normal range (CA125 measures a tumor marker in the blood that is a good indication of ovarian cancer in some patients). I felt strong and well quickly after chemo and went back to normal activities (hiking, traveling, etc.) almost immediately.

In June of 2016 I began feeling symptoms similar to my initial ones and my CA125 levels began rising. Last September, I was back into 6 cycles of chemo. Again, my body responded well and I emerged in January with low CA125 levels. I immediately stepped back into my normal activities. I continue to feel strong and energetic, able to do pretty much anything I want to do. I am also watching my CA125 levels slowly rise as we anticipate another recurrence.

I am realizing that ovarian cancer is a life partner now. Yes, miracles happen and research unlocks possibilities continually, but that’s not where I want to spend my energy. I’m learning the steps to a dance called “living with cancer”.

Learning to “live with cancer”. Each of these words has much meaning for me.

First, the living part. This is my life. The only one I get. I am clear that I want to spend these valuable resources (life and time) using 2 criteria:

Is this truly important? It is having lunch with my 91 year-old mom. It is spending time with family during a family reunion on the lake. It is time with my Threshold Choir singing deeply nutritious, peace-bringing songs at bedside and in our circle as we prepare and practice. It is understanding enough about what is going on politically in our country to make regular calls to our representatives in DC. It is introspective time with my journal or taking a walk with my husband. It is going with other ovarian cancer survivors to medical and nursing students to tell our stories and educate these professionals on the difficult to diagnose symptoms of OvCa in a personal and memorable way so they remember and help the next patient find her cancer as early as possible.

Does this bring me joy? My daughters and I marched in Washington DC in January, a highlight of my life. In March, Denny and I had a splendid 3-week trip in Argentina and Chile which included watching condors rise from their rock spire roosts in early morning updrafts on a vast estancia in Patagonia. I traveled to Maine in April to visit several wonderful women friends. Next month we will raft the stunning, free-flowing Yampa River through Dinosaur National Monument. More plans take shape further into the future. These are the big things. There are also little things every day that bring joy. Our 10-month old cocky West Highland Terrier is full of confidence, spirit and love. Hummingbirds, grosbeaks, woodpeckers and more show up continually outside our windows.

Second, the “with cancer” part. Getting cancer sucks. Fact. The cancer road is hard – hard for me, hard for those who love me, hard even for casual friends who don’t know what to say or how to help. I find, though, that I need to face the hard things squarely, look them in the eye, write about them, cry about them, talk about them, grieve, so that I can live fully. It doesn’t work for me to ignore cancer, try to forget about it or pretend everything will be ok. The “think positively” strategy is not for me. I truly need to go into the pain and the grief and the pissed-off-ness so that I can experience the wonders and pleasures and delights.

My life has much love and wonderfulness in it. I am incredibly grateful for the support I have.

Living life while dancing with cancer.