Samantha Caggiano

August 2022

March 20, 2020, was the day that rocked my world. I was sitting alone at work when the dermatologist called with my biopsy results. “You have gynecological cancer, likely ovarian cancer.” Even though I suspected something was very wrong, I was still stunned. In medicine there is a saying, “When you hear hoofbeats think horses, not zebras,” which is why I had hoped Dr. Google was wrong. It turns out that I did have a Sister Mary Joseph nodule.

(A Sister Mary Joseph nodule is a skin lesion that occurs in the belly button.)

In retrospect I had been having more reflux, but this was something I dealt with off and on over the years. I also noticed that my belly was a bit rounder, enough to prompt me to change my workout routine, but at 46, I figured this was typical. Who gets diagnosed with stage 4 cancer without more symptoms??? I have none of the risk factors for ovarian cancer (family history, genetic mutations, post-menopausal, >50) and most of the protective factors (pregnancies, breastfeeding, oral contraceptives). I knew nothing about ovarian cancer.

It was the early days of the pandemic, and because I work in healthcare I was acutely aware of clinics shutting down and the impact of shrinking PPE. So, in addition to the swirling questions of what this would mean for me and how this diagnosis would affect my family, I was anxious I would not have access to the care I knew was so urgently needed.

The next 2 weeks were a whirlwind of phone calls, imaging, labs, and telephone/video visits. I found comfort in the oncology social worker who guided me through how to talk to my kids about my diagnosis and from the chemo nurses who continued to show up with compassion every day.

The best information I was given by my gynecologic oncologist was that ovarian cancer is considered a chronic condition. I was told most patients respond very well to front-line chemo and there are many treatments available. Thank goodness, because I have been through a few of them since my diagnosis.

I am happy to say that I don’t feel the pandemic had any impact on the quality or timeliness of my care. However, it has been a mostly solo experience from my surgical stay to all the many infusions. I cried when my husband dropped me off at the hospital for my debulking surgery.

I was lucky to find OCAOSW as I was transitioning off of front-line treatment—such a blessing to find these women! The anxiety surrounding cancer and transitions can only be understood by women who experience it. It’s been an adjustment as society is transitioning out of the pandemic, but cancer soldiers on.

I feel so lucky that I have had minimal side effects of chemo. Yes, I have the chemo “crummies” after infusions, and yes, I have lost my hair (twice). But I have continued to work and continue to have adventures with my family.

My biggest concern throughout this journey has been how my diagnosis will affect my husband and children. This was not supposed to happen! The mama bear in me came out, and I went through stages of fear, anger/resentment, worry, acceptance and gratitude. And through it all we have had many adventures traveling to Hawaii, San Diego, Yellowstone and the East Coast as well as locally floating the rivers, camping, and attending concerts. We’ve prioritized friends, family and outdoor time. I am so grateful for that shift and a new sense of gratitude.

So many women have such a prolonged path to diagnosis. I was lucky mine was more straight-forward.  I am still dumbfounded that there is no reliable screening for this disease while grateful for the continued advances in treatment options. My hope is for continued research so that next generations, including my boys, will not be impacted by ovarian cancer in the same way.