Missy Fant

June 2023

It started with lower right-side pain and a drive to urgent care, thinking that my appendix was deciding to rebel against me. Having just turned 40 a few months earlier, the thought of cancer never crossed my mind.

Urgent care turned into the emergency room and a half-day wait. A quick CT scan, and we found out it wasn’t my appendix but a basketball size cyst on my ovary. The ER doc insisted that most of them were benign and to follow up with my primary care. I called my primary doctor, and my appointment was scheduled three weeks out.

The following day I went about my business with minor pain, but at least I had an answer to what it was. But the day after? The pain returned, and it was much worse than before. Another wait in the ER had me seeing another doctor who made a call to a Legacy gynecologic oncologist just two days later. Having “Oncologist” in the name, set my mind to what it could be, but they insisted it was just the specialist for cysts like mine.

After the exam at Good Samaritan Hospital, I was scheduled for surgery the next day to remove the cyst and, most likely, one ovary.

What would have been a short surgery turned into a long one, as they did a complete hysterectomy and sent test samples to the labs. My poor husband paced in the waiting room the entire time.

I recovered at home for a week before heading back in for a check-up and to review the findings of the test results. I had some results in my online chart which showed nothing abnormal. All of my blood tests were unremarkable.

The gynecologic oncologist performing my surgery was different than the one I saw in the office. So, when we sat down, she started going over how to treat my type of cancer, mucinous ovarian carcinoma. My husband and I just froze in our seats. She then realized the other gynecologic oncologist on her team had yet to call me and talk through everything.

My father passed away from colon/pancreatic cancer at age 56; so, hearing those words again stopped the whole world.

They caught it early enough, and now there was a plan of attack. My gynecologic oncologist was sure they removed everything during the surgery, but I was required to get more scans and proceed through six chemotherapy treatments to ensure.

The following two weeks included every scan you could think of and the implantation of my chemotherapy port. As someone with high medical anxiety, it was the most tiring and exhausting two weeks that I have had since having my child. The doctor performing my last medical test knew of my anxiety, and once I woke up from the procedure, he was there to tell me that it had come back clear. The cancer was only in my ovary and had yet to spread. A giant sigh of relief and a lot of crying happened afterward. It may have been the exhaustion or the realization that I could beat this.

In October 2022, my chemotherapy started. I was to have 6 hours of active chemo every 3 weeks. I was preparing to be stuck in a chair for hours after seeing what my father went through. However, it seems a lot has changed since his treatment. At Legacy, we had a room with chairs and a comfortable bed. I don’t remember much of the first few of my treatments. I would get my port accessed, labs drawn, talk to my oncologist, and then they would give me the Benadryl and my anti-anxiety meds. After that, I would go into some of the heaviest sleep I had been in.

About a week after my treatments started, I decided to have fun with my hair and get that mohawk I always wanted. I knew it would fall out, so why not have fun with it? It lasted about a week and a half, but at least it was beanie season!

The chemotherapy treatment days weren’t the worst; it was the side effects afterward— lots of fatigue, muscle cramps, and edema in the feet. As someone who loves being outside, the cold was harsher on me than usual, and I spent the next four months inside just telling myself that we were almost through this.

On January 25th, I attended what I had hoped to be my last chemotherapy session. Mid-March is when I returned for my scans and was again accompanied by my anxiety as we waited for the results. No evidence of disease found were some of the most incredible words I have heard.

Since then, I’m still fighting side effects, but the edema in my feet has decreased thanks to some aqua aerobics and yoga. My fatigue still kicks my butt occasionally, but I can’t let it have the best of me as a small business owner. One of the things I absolutely love about my medical team is the knowledge of science and nature. Interweaving vitamins and supplements into my treatment have helped tremendously.

I feel lucky that I knew something was wrong and continuously sought help. This was the first time I was in the emergency room for my own care in my forty years. I usually try to push it off and hope the pain goes away or wait for days (or weeks) to see a doctor.

Listen to your body and advocate for yourselves if your physician isn’t available or listening to you.

I now look forward to a summer full of outdoor adventures with my family, even if that means my trails are shorter and much less hilly.