[2023-03-01] CA125 and hope
While at the Irving Greenberg Family Cancer Centre yesterday for my radiation oncology follow-up, I took the opportunity to get blood work done as part of my monthly monitoring for ovarian cancer.
All afternoon and evening, I checked my phone for my latest CA125 level. Just before I turned out the lights, the result popped into my phone: another 8. The joyful streak continues.
I awoke early this morning and, in my grogginess, wondered whether I should check my phone for my CA125 result. And then I remembered, with a smile, that I had already received my answer. I breathed a sigh of relief.
From time to time, I ask myself whether my continuing to tell my story serves any purpose. And then, today, I received a question from someone who is at the beginning of her cancer journey, facing decisions about treatment options. I know the feeling of being overwhelmed, of seeing the downsides of every potential choice, of fearing the unknown.
What helped me, when I was at that point, was knowing that there were other people who had traveled the road before me—people who were living well, many years after cancer treatment.
I have never forgotten the story a kind nurse told me in September 2020, one week before I started chemotherapy. It bears repeating—for the woman who contacted me today and for anyone else grappling with decisions around medical treatments.
"I'm going to tell you a story," she said. "My mom had ovarian cancer, including in her lymph nodes."
"I don't even have cancer in my lymph nodes," I interjected.
"Exactly!" She continued. "My mom went through the surgery. And she went through the chemotherapy. She did great. That was 8 years ago." Her mom was 72 when she was diagnosed and is now 80.
I wanted to hug her. That story made my heart swell. She said that her mom wants her to share her story, to give other women hope.
The nurse then went on to explain how her mom had tolerated chemotherapy. She felt fine on the day of treatment but tired for the next three days—not necessarily sick, but tired. Her treatments were on Thursdays, so she had "pyjama days" on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and was back to her activities on Monday.
"And I'm going to tell you another story," said the nurse. "I had cancer 25 years ago. I went through surgery and chemotherapy, and I'm still here."
So many of us who have faced cancer are still here. Our very existence gives hope to others, just as that nurse who shared her experience and her mother's story gave me hope when I needed it most.
