Tracy Bain

December 2022

I was making snow angels with my family right after the holidays when I felt something was off in my lower abdomen. I was visiting my family and friends across the country and so stopped into an urgent care center to get a quick exam and some medication until I made it back home. They treated it as a urinary tract infection (UTI), even though my urine test came back negative and then sent me on my way.

The pain and abdominal swelling continued to get worse quite rapidly, and by the time I flew back home a few days later, I started having difficulty breathing and eating due to the fluid buildup and pressure. I went to my primary care doctor who ordered a CT scan, and when the results came back, she very gently told my husband and me that the scan showed masses all throughout my lower abdomen and inside my liver. She couldn’t be sure yet at that time if it was benign or malignant, but she referred me to a gynecologic oncologist right away.

It was the very beginning of 2013, and I was 27 years old working on my master’s degree in wildlife biology and living an active healthy lifestyle. I had no family history of ovarian or breast cancer. The idea that I could have cancer at that age was inconceivable. And yet, what followed after those initial CT scan results would change the course of my life forever.

I remember feeling like my entire world ended in that moment. My husband and I held each other and cried in the doctor’s office. And the hardest call I have ever had to make was to my parents, to tell them those results and that we didn’t know what was wrong. They flew out soon after and stayed with me for almost six months throughout my entire treatment. My husband and parents were my rock, and I made it through because of them and because of my incredible medical team.

The gynecologic oncologist did blood tests for my tumor markers–both of which came back high–as well as a PET scan that showed the masses in more detail. Soon after I went in for what was supposed to be a laparoscopic surgery, but when I awoke, I found I had a foot-long incision down my abdomen stapled together and discovered the doctor had removed one ovary, my omentum, a number of lymph nodes as part of the tumor debulking. I also learned that I was diagnosed with stage 4 germ cell ovarian cancer.

Going through cancer treatment is as much a physical as it is a mental battle. It doesn’t matter what type of cancer you have, or what stage, the fact that someone has told you that you have the big C-word, shuts everything else off in your brain completely. There is no other thing to focus on except all the ramifications of what that means for you, your family, your friends, your career, for you again– and round and round. During the months of treatment, I used to wake up from fitful nights of sleep and think to myself, “This has got to be a dream–a nightmare– how can this really be happening?” And the reality is, it’s not just happening to you, but to everyone that loves you and cares for you and feels helpless that they cannot take it away.

I was in the hospital for about two weeks before I could start chemotherapy, as I needed to let my body heal from surgery a bit first. I started taking birth control to put my remaining ovary to “sleep” during treatment and was then on a steady drip of narcotic painkillers to try to dull the unbearable pain from that incision. The thought of coughing or sneezing during that time was terror, but thank you to all of the wonderful volunteers that made those tiny abdominal pillows. The smallest kindnesses were so wonderful.

I started chemotherapy while in the hospital, but soon after the doctors realized that the tumors in my liver were still bleeding excessively as I continually required blood transfusions. I underwent another surgery (laparoscopic this time, thank goodness) by a brilliant doctor who cauterized some of the vessels leading to the tumors, but left a few to allow the chemotherapy drugs to reach the tumors. The doctor did an amazing job. Soon after the bleeding slowed down, and the chemo was able to go to work.

My chemo treatment was Cisplatin, Bleomycin, and Etoposide and I recall telling someone this recently and they said, “Oh that’s the bad kind of treatment.” In other words, this was an awful (but very effective) chemo cocktail that drained every ounce of strength, resulted in many terrible side effects, and left you feeling sick constantly. If I had to describe that cocktail at a bar, it would be a mix of Jager blended with tequila, and a splash of Nyquil just for fun…

The following four months were incredibly difficult. I had to relearn how to walk again with a walker in the hospital. I was on more daily narcotics when I got home for pain from surgery as well as anti-anxiety medications to control my panic attacks and stress. There were many other side effects from both the surgery and the chemotherapy treatment that no one tells you about until you experience them. Surprise! On top of this, my white blood cell count was low, and I had to get daily Neupogen shots to boost it, which is like getting a booster vaccine that results in arthritis within a few hours. Really!?

I think back on this time now in my life and understand how hard it was to see beyond the next few hours in each day. Life was precarious then. I was tracking my tumor markers and the results of PET scans like kids glued to the television screen waiting to see their school name listed in the snow day closures. After each treatment cycle I felt weaker and weaker, and by the final round, I didn’t know if I could handle it anymore. I think what got me through everything was seeing the progress and watching my numbers go down– and then my incredible care team– family and medical staff alike.

That time in my life was a nightmare–but I made it. That was almost ten years ago now, and I am here, healthy and cured of cancer. It has not been an easy road since. I dealt with a blood clot from the surgery, a third surgery to remove my second ovary after it was found to have deformed cells in it and caused more pain and swelling. A few years later I had a gallbladder attack due to gallstones from losing so much weight so quickly in the hospital and had to have my gallbladder removed (surgery number four).

I still have minor tinnitus, side effects from the surgeries, and that little thing to deal with called hormone replacement therapy (HRT) to manage my surgical menopause. Needless to say, we would need a whole other article written about the trials and tribulations of getting the right hormones in place and how the tiniest imbalance can send you down a spiral. We don’t have enough time here to go into the years long journey that has been, but suffice it to say, HRT has been absolutely necessary for me to keep my bones safe, protect my uterus, and ensure mental and physical health overall. But it has been rough going through menopausal symptoms as a young woman and to be able to find the right doctors willing to go on that journey with you to keep trying different types of HRT treatments until you get it right.

Germ cell ovarian cancer in young women is very rare, and my gynecologic oncologist had only ever treated a small handful of other women with the disease. I didn’t know anyone with this type of cancer, then or ever since, and this made it particularly difficult to get through as there were few survivors or a network for me to connect with.

But I am here, I made it, and I am not waiting for retirement to do all the things I want to do in life. I am so thankful that my treatment was successful as I know that not everyone has the same outcome.

Today, I try not to dwell on what the future may hold, but live my life in the way that makes me fulfilled and leaves a positive impact on this world. We never know what could happen tomorrow, so why not live without regrets today?