Stephanie’s Story
Age at diagnosis: 27 years old
Stage at diagnosis: Stage Ia
Story posted: May 2009
In the summer of 2004, when I was living in Colorado, I rolled over on my stomach on my couch and felt something like a lump. A little voice in my head told me I had a tumor. Naturally I ignored that little voice, thinking I was being pessimistic.
In August of that year, I had a major knee surgery, which put me on crutches until October. During this time I was extremely exhausted. I lost my appetite, I felt nauseous, and my periods where barely there.
In December I went in for my yearly checkup. I told my gynecologist that I felt this lump, and that I was losing weight and just didn’t feel well. She gently smiled and told me I was too young to have anything wrong with me — I probably just had a small hernia from being on crutches for so long. I didn’t question her.
Time went on, and I kept feeling sicker and sicker. I actually thought I was pregnant and subsequently took at least 10 pregnancy tests between January and April.
Finally, on April 11th, my boyfriend and I were outside shoveling off my car from a 15-inch snowstorm. It was about 35 degrees, and all I had on were jeans and a sweater. Even so, I was dripping with sweat, and I started to see black spots in front of my eyes. I went into the house and basically stripped down — but I couldn’t cool down. I decided I had to go in to the doctor, because something was really wrong.
I went in to see my primary care doctor. She, too, thought I was pregnant, and ran more tests; of course they were negative. She then gave me a CA-125 and sent me on to radiology at another location, where I had a CT and transvaginal ultrasound.
At this point I was starting to get scared. What I thought was going to be a quick in-and-out at the doctor’s office was turning out to be an all-day event.
I no sooner drove out of the parking lot when my phone rang. It was my doctor, who told me to come straight to her office. She told me I had a large tumor. They could see suspicious spots within, and my CA-125 was off the charts.
I had cancer — and I was only 27 years old. I was referred to a gynecologic oncologist and had surgery on April 18, 2005. A 10-pound mass was removed, and thankfully it was only stage Ia.
However, about six weeks later I started having severe abdominal pain again. After an ultrasound showed a small mass in my remaining ovary, my doctor wanted to see if it was a cyst before removing it and prescribed Vicodan for the pain.
Three weeks passed; another ultrasound. The mass had tripled in size. Again, my CA-125 was off the charts. I was having a recurrence. I couldn’t believe it.
I went into surgery on August 3, 2005. This time it had spread to my appendix. The second ovary was removed, along with lymph nodes in my abdomen. I went through two rounds of chemotherapy.
Honestly, I have struggled with the fallout emotionally and physically. The surgeries kicked me in to early menopause, and I gained 65 pounds within a few months. I also experienced hot flashes and mood swings. My cholesterol went through the roof. I also developed atrial fibrillation (which is genetic, and something I would have developed eventually anyway).
At the age of 27, I was told I would never have children — causing my boyfriend at the time to “reevaluate” our relationship and leave me. All I could think was, “Who would want me now? I’m damaged.” I also struggled to find adequate post-treatment care.
Four years after my first diagnosis, I have an amazing boyfriend of two years. I moved back home to the Twin Cities three years ago and have a wonderful team of doctors. I am currently finishing my bachelor’s degree in physiology and biochemistry and plan to go on to medical school for pathology. My main goal is to do cancer research and find a way to diagnose ovarian cancer early and hopefully find a cure.
My anger is gone, and I have realized that God has a reason for everything, though we may not see it at the time. The support I have found with MOCA has been an inspiration and a wonderful source of love and friendship.