35 years ago today, at the age of 20, I went to surgery, knowing I had "something big" in my pelvic area. When the post surgery pain could finally be diminished by the demerol (enough for me to be conscious), my parents told me I had ovarian cancer and they had given me a complete hysterectomy.
The surgeon cried the first time he talked with me after the surgery. But, the night before the surgery, the hospital had called him because I would not sign the consent form. When he came, I looked him in the eye and said "We don't know what's in me, but if you have to choose between ANY body part and my chance for a long life, choose my life". I wrote "hysterectomy" onto the list of possible outcomes for the surgery and signed my name. So, my surgeon was sad but had nothing to feel guilty about. He knew I would never be angry with him for acting according to my wishes.
My college years were strange since I did not know if I had a future or not. Then the depression hit. It was the existential "what is the meaning of life?" kind of deep, dark depression, in the days before anti-depressants were discovered.
That bout of depression eventually lifted and I married a man who said it did not matter that I could not have kids, and adoption would be fine. He was not a kind man but I stayed since I thought I needed to be married to adopt. He left after four years with the ultimate meanest thing he could say "he suddenly felt the need for a biological child."
Another long bout with depression and problems with self esteem (what was I worth to this world if I could not have kids?) followed. When I turned 38, I found myself praying for a child and heard a "voice" that said "start telling everyone you meet that you're looking for a child."
You may not believe what happened, but it's true. A few months after this, a woman I had recently befriended called me to say she had just met a young woman 4 months pregnant and was looking for someone to adopt her baby. Did I mention I was single, broke and suffered from depression? And she called me?
It's now 18 years since that phone call and I have a beautiful, smart, funny 17-1/2 yr old daughter. She thanks God every day that I had Ov Ca since otherwise I would not be her mom (and she doesn't want to imagine the unimagineable).
But there's more...my mom who had a life-changing spiritual experience 35 yrs ago and we've spent many years celebrating this day. Three years ago, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, right after I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Right after my diagnosis, when I was scared out of my mind, I'd call to hear her voice and she'd ask me how I'm doing, having completely forgotten I was about to have surgery. I lost my rock.
My dad, my brothers and my sister pretty much forgot what I was going through in light of my mom's illness. And with my surgery, treatments, needing to work whenever I felt up to it, etc, it was hard to fly across the country to visit. Basically I feel like I lost all of them, which is extremely sad. Not one of them even remembers my anniversary day.
But I remember. My daughter remembers. I have experienced miracles. I am alive, healthy and hopeful. I don't expect after all this time the ovarian cancer will return. And I have a great chance of the breast cancer not coming back either.
I just retired after 23 years doing minimally satisfying work. With a small pension, I'm planning to start a second career in the field of mental health. I hope to work with people dealing with dual mental health/life threatening illness diagnoses. Having either one is hard, having both sends one staggering. My wish is for everyone to have the chance to discover the meaning of their life. To find a way to live with the sadness of difficult things that have happened and find the hope to move forward.
Nobody can take away the day each of us has before us. Find a way to do the things that are most important to you.
Blessings.





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