Nancy Ferrell

December 2015

I was originally diagnosed with ovarian cancer on February 27th of 1995. I was 49 years old. For six months I had been experiencing low back discomfort, loss of energy, bloating, gas, a feeling of fullness, and a frequent need to urinate. After several appointments, my gynecologist sent me to a gastroenterologist, who tested me for lactose intolerance, which I didn’t have. This was in January of 1995.

In February I went back to my gynecologist who did an ultrasound which revealed a large pelvic mass. He also did a CA125 blood test which came back as less than 8. He then told me I would need surgery as soon as possible and gave me my choices for a gynecologic oncologist. I will be forever grateful to my gynecologist for insisting that I see a gynecologic oncologist rather than doing the surgery himself.

I had to wait two weeks for my surgery as my new gyn onc was away at a conference – it was the longest 2 weeks of my life! I had just purchased a new home and needed to move during this time. Unfortunately, my upcoming surgery and my fear, created a black cloud over what should have been a time of celebration and joy. However, the love and support of my family and friends, who without any request from me, packed me up, moved me and unpacked me, sustained me and got me through.

My surgery at OHSU consisted of an initial exploratory laparotomy, which then moved into a bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy, peritoneal stripping, omentectomy, appendectomy, and lymph node dissection. Diagnosis: Stage IIIc, grade I serous cystadenocarcinoma of the ovary. The mass was 15 cm, with no lymph node involvement. I was optimally debulked, leaving no evidence of disease.

After being discharged from the hospital, I began a course of six chemotherapy treatments in Salem, 3 weeks apart, consisting of Carboplatin and Taxol, the treatment of choice at that time. I got through this without complications, although I do have peripheral neuropathy in both my hands and feet (primarily, great sensitivity to cold) as well as some memory issues. But this is nothing I can’t live with!

In 1997, two years after my first surgery, I developed a small bowel obstruction from a surgical adhesion and as a result, lost 1/3 of my small intestine, including the ileocecal valve. This actually was by far the more difficult surgery and aftermath to recover from. This surgery left me with challenging digestive issues, and the need to have monthly B12 shots as well as to find a way to absorb other vitamins that are normally absorbed by the part of my small intestine that is no longer there. I have to say that it has been a struggle at times over the years, but our bodies are amazingly adaptive and mine has adapted quite well to the changes. I do well as long as I take good care of myself.

In 2000, at the 5½ year mark, my gynecological oncologist found a small paravaginal mass which was malignant. This was removed and I began a second course of five chemotherapy treatments consisting of Carboplatin. I have been cancer free since then.

As I turn 70 this month, I am so filled with gratitude for the gift of these past 20 years; years I didn’t expect to have.

I won’t deny that there have been many fearful moments through the years, of wondering if the cancer had returned. This fear of recurrence has been, for me, the most difficult part of this experience – if only we could install a zipper which would allow us to just look every time we get anxious! I have found that it does get easier as time goes by, and my confidence builds. I am checked by my gynecological oncologist once a year, and have regular screenings for breast and colon cancer. I tested negative for the BRCA2 gene.

To stay healthy, I make sure that I exercise regularly; have acupuncture treatments and massages twice a month; do my best to eat only organically grown food; take vitamin/mineral supplements; do the things I love to do; give myself permission to say “no” when something isn’t good for me; spend my precious life with family and friends whom I love so dearly; give of my gifts and talents when I can; deepen my spiritual life; be outdoors in nature as much as I can be; and meditate regularly.

And, I have used this challenging journey to examine and re-evaluate my life, becoming crystal clear about what life means to me and what I want to do with mine. With my diagnosis, I began to live more intentionally and it has been a wonderful adventure.

I continued my profession as a clinical social worker, for a few years focusing on cancer survivors and their families; starting a support group at Salem Hospital for women survivors, as well as seeing survivors for individual counseling. I spearheaded a new non-profit cancer center in Salem (which eventually was absorbed into the Salem Cancer Institute), to provide education and support for survivors and their families.

I risked and stepped out in many other ways: going on solo camping and hiking trips with my dog, going to Africa with my daughter, meeting new people in unexpected places. And, I remarried in 2006 and moved to Silverton, where my husband and I live on 10 acres outside of town with our animal friends. I have a small private practice in Silverton which I love, working primarily with women. My two dear children have blessed us with three grandchildren, giving me the great gift of being a part of the continuing of life and love.

I won’t deny that I have my dark moments – more than I would like. However, I work hard to not stay there long, as I am so poignantly aware of the fleetingness of life and the preciousness of savoring every moment. Cancer can be so isolating for those of us going through it– our families and friends love us and want to be there for us. They try so hard to understand what we’re going through, but it’s difficult. As we face our own mortality in a very real way, there can be a new sense of urgency, a new intensity, an unwillingness to waste even a moment on unimportant, negative, or energy draining interactions. We know in a new way, how precious life is.

So, what might I say to those of you who are newly diagnosed, or in the middle of treatment, or dealing with difficult news? I say, do your best to use this experience to re-evaluate what’s important to you. Then…go forward, living your precious life fully (whatever that means for you), with love and joy!