Katherine Schneider

November 2014

Despite being a nurse in great health, and current with my medical physical exams, on April 26th, 2014, I contributed to the statistics of Ovarian Cancer (Stage IIIC).

My name is Katherine Schneider and I am 46 years old.

I work as a surgical nurse in the neurosurgery department at PeaceHealth SW Medical Center in Vancouver, WA. I work with the best neurosurgeons in the area. I love my job!

When I’m not working, my husband and I have been slowly remodeling our home and take exotic vacations around the world (including sailing for three years). I also laugh and share joy with my four year old niece and two year old nephew (no, it’s not spoiling!), and am a conscientious guardian to my autistic sister.

I had all the “classic” subtle signs of ovarian cancer over a period of six months leading up to a CT scan in the Spring of 2014. The first sign I recall was pain in my lower left abdomen which occurred during a couple of menstrual cycles and during sex. I dismissed the pain as fibroids or a cyst; I had even scheduled a visit to a gynecologist but canceled when the symptom seem to improve. I assumed this symptom was part of aging.

I also experienced fatigue that was different than fatigue I had experienced previously. I couldn’t get that endorphin rush that I usually got after 15 minutes on the elliptical trainer at the gym. My cardio workouts were reduced to 30 minutes and I always felt exhausted. It was a different type of tired, but I rationalized that I was working more as I was contributing to a textbook as well as working with a new technology to the neurosurgery service.

The bowel changes I attributed to consuming more caffeine because I was tired, and the strange pain in my arm and right side was attributed to my new computer in my office. I didn’t see my primary care physician until I got nauseated and sick, and my office mate and good friend said, “Katherine, you’ve been eating animal crackers for two days now, don’t you think you should go in?”

Still, I procrastinated on getting a CT scan, thinking I likely had something like gallbladder disease, and being annoyed with my insurance deductible. I knew something was amiss, but “WOW,” the diagnosis of ovarian cancer was a big surprise. The nurse who called to let me know about my diagnosis treated me with compassion as if she knew me all her life.

My initial pre-op visit with a gynecologic oncologist was three days after my diagnosis. I know of, and had worked with this gyn onc occasionally. I was scheduled for surgery a week after our first meeting as patient and surgeon. Those initial days following diagnosis were the worst days of my life and I don’t know how I got through that time. But my knowledge of surgery coupled with who was taking care of me, was a vacation in comparison to that time. On the day of surgery, my co-workers brought me a quilt, and O.R. (operating room) scrub caps for the team. I remember going off to sleep with my co- orkers’ reassuring faces at my side, and knew that the surgery would go well.

I woke up to be told that I had an optimal tumor debulking, but didn’t have to undergo a colostomy, which had been a possibility. A golf ball-sized tumor on my diaphragm – explaining the rib and arm pain — in addition to the tumors on my ovaries and positive nodes on the omentum were removed, as was the omentum itself. My previous good health empowered me for a brief three day hospital stay during which I was treated like a rock star. The recovery was fast, with less pain and fatigue than I had imagined it would be.

I began a six-round intravenous and intraperitoneal chemotherapy regimen four weeks after surgery, with my gyn onc politely preparing me by saying, “I am going to beat you up a bit.” After the first round of chemo, my blood cells took a hit and I wasn’t able to complete the exact protocol, which is common. As a result, one administration of chemo in the 3-week cycle was dropped.

Throughout all of this, humor kept me going. I created a CA 125 “betting” pool (proceeds going to my niece’s and nephew’s college fund) — I was 46 on the first day of chemo, with the last test being 6. In response to a challenge from my co-workers, I did a headstand in the chemo suite to slosh the 2.5 liters of chemo in my belly – this was a first for Compass Oncology in Vancouver!

In the end, the chemo did “beat me up” and I contemplated not completing the last round. Instead, I rode my bike to the last appointment. My father and my husband were my chemo and acupuncture chauffeurs as well as entertainment for the oncology nurses. My co-workers overwhelmed me with their generosity of meals, humor, home support, offers to assist with chores, and visits.

Expecting to be BRCA positive, I got ready to sign up for a clinical trial called the Solo-1 trial for a Parp-Inhibitor drug, Olaparib. The trial is in Walnut Creek, California, so there was going to be some serious commuting and probable cost involved, among other things. The genetic testing came back negative, however and I am now researching options for a clinical trial for which I can be eligible.

In late October 2014, my labs were drawn, and the ports were removed. I am entering Survivorship.

I’ve spent a great deal of time these past few weeks considering what I want to change in my life going forward, as well as reflecting on the past six months. My family is much closer as a result of my diagnosis: we’ve chosen to help one another out, find out what we can learn, and how we can laugh together. Together, we are taking a celebratory trip to Palm Springs this month.

My friends, co-workers and I have gotten to know more about each other which makes the time I spend with them that much more rewarding and filled with joy.

My husband Wally is a Saint. His compassion and understanding is beyond that of the best nurses I know. I look forward to be able to give back to my family and friends. Every patient I see on the surgery schedule, I want to sit with them and support them in any way they need in that moment.

And, finally, I plan to continue finding and enjoying all the good things that can, and have come out this experience.