A Shot of Terror to Liven Up My Life

About a week ago, I started experiencing really severe pelvic pain. It was strongest on the right hand side, but radiated across my entire pelvis. I decided to go to the ER. In addition to my concerns that this was cancer related, I had also had a UTI the previous week (TMI? My blog, my rules #sorrynotsorry), so I was worried that it might pertain to that.

I explained my special medical history about a dozen times: to the triage nurse, to the nurse assigned to me, to some guy who may or may not have been a hospital employee, to a doctor, to another nurse, to another doctor.

I gave a urine sample to check for a UTI, and also for pregnancy, which HELLO i have no uterus, how the hell could I be pregnant? Finally they gave me some fluids, and some medication to help with the pain.

I had a CT scan. I have had so many CT scans since getting diagnosed in April that I'm shocked that I am not radioactive. I also had an ultrasound, external and internal. After the radiology finished the ultrasound torture, she went and checked with the head radiologist to make sure what she got was ok. OF COURSE IT WASN'T. And the part that needed to be done again was the internal ultrasound.

The verdict was a cyst on my right ovary. I've had them before, but none since getting diagnosed with cancer. If I'd thought it through, I probably could have deduced that that was what it was, and saved myself a $500 copay and 6 hours in the ER. But cancer has made me irrational about my body. Or hyper vigilant. Or something. Basically it boils down to feeling like every little twinge in my body is cancer coming back. And it sucks to live that way.

Per the orders of the ER gods, I followed up with my doctor the next. My gyn didn't have any openings until 12/9, so I made an appointment with my PCP. She went through all the labs with me and explained everything so it made sense, aka dumbed down like you're talking to a 2 year old. With ovarian cysts, there's not a lot you can do about them except to wait for them to burst, which is a whole other round of painful fun.

The most effective preventative treatment for ovarian cysts is birth control pills. However, there are risks in taking those involving cancer. So I need to talk to my oncologist and determine if the risk is worth the reward, so to speak.

I've been told by other survivors that you do actually reach a point where something feels wrong with your body, and your mind does not automatically jump to "Oh my god, the cancer is back!!!!!!" I just wish I could get to that point sooner rather than later.

Giving Thanks

I'm a little late in the game, as Thanksgiving will be over in a little over an hour, but oh well. Gratitude and being thankful should be an everyday occurrence, not just something we focus on on the last Thursday of November.

Number one, I am grateful for my health. Being diagnosed with cancer 7 months ago convinced me that this was it, my time was up, and I was going to die. I didn't care how much my oncologist reassured me, I didn't care about statistics. I had a potentially terminal illness dropped in my lap (ha ha). I went through treatment, and in September was declared NED (no evidence of disease). No one can ever tell me that the cancer is gone for good - there is no cure, only treatments & remission. And I am in in remission, and I couldn't be more grateful for that.

Number two, I am grateful for my family, both by blood and by choice. They have stood by me, given me their strength when I didn't have any of my own, talked me down off many ledges, given me shoulders to cry on. My son, for being so strong and becoming my rock. He has had to go through what no child has, but it has made him stronger.

Number three, I am grateful to my teal sisters. They have been there through thick and thin, have given me advice, have cheered me on. I couldn't have made it through without them. Special shout out to Amanda, Kim, Loretta & Melissa. #cancerbestiesforever.

Jon, your acceptance of me as I am has been such an amazing gift. Your love and caring knows no bounds. I am eternally grateful for your love and support. To the moon and back, forever and always.

xo jennie

Shining Strength & Hope

Sam: true beauty

In October, a friend told me about a couple, Samantha and Jeremiah, who live relatively close to me who were fighting the horrible battle of cervical cancer. She suggested that I get in touch, since they were in need of support. Knowing how lonely it was for me to go through my cervical cancer journey without having someone physically there who understood what I was going through, I reached out to Jeremiah. At the time, I had no idea how life changing this would be for me.

In November 2013, Sam was diagnosed with stage 4a cervical cancer. This was a devastating diagnosis. She and Jeremiah immediately left the west coast where they had been living to come back east, where Sam's family is. In the past year, Sam has gone through 26 rounds of external radiation, 6 rounds of internal radiation, and 6 rounds of chemo on the west coast. After completing those treatments, she had a PET scan, which determined the cancer had spread, and she would have 6 to 12 months to live without treatment. Since moving east, she has had 4 rounds of chemo here because of other complications that required immediate attention and put off treatment for the cancer itself. She has endured multiple hospital stays, lasting anywhere from a few hours to multiple weeks. Jeremiah has stayed by her side throughout it all. He is her sole caretaker, the most beautiful example of what a husband should be.

Jeremiah & Sam

In October, Sam spent 25 days in the hospital because of severe pain. The doctors worked primarily to determine the cause of the pain, which meant no cancer treatment while this was going on. Ultimately it was determined that she had developed a fistula, a hole between the vagina and the rectum. Sam had surgery to clean things up in her pelvis as much as possible, and to put in an ostomy. Since then, she has had another operation to improve the ostomy, and begun chemo again. Sam is still suffering pain, she weighs 84 lbs, and she has fears - who wouldn't? But the thing is, she hasn't given up. She is strong and feisty and brave.

Sam & me

I was incredibly lucky to be welcomed to their home for a visit not too long ago. It was so weird to meet them in person for the first time, as I felt like I had known them forever. It was time spent hanging out with old friends, and it was wonderful.

Jeremiah and Sam have taught me so much: unconditional love; strength in the face of adversity; hope; faith; perseverance. They are completely devoted to each other, and are completely devoted to beating this horrific disease. I am blessed and grateful to have such wonderful people in my life. I am honored to be a part of theirs.

Sam and Jeremiah share their story openly, in the hopes that no one else should have to go through the things they continue to go through. This is a scary tale for sure, but there is hope here as well. They are doing everything they can to beat this disease. They are NOT giving up.

For more information on Sam's journey, please visit Save the Hoo Hoos.

Not Damaged Goods

This is what my abdomen looks like 5 months post-op. When I was told it would be a laparoscopic procedure, I envisioned tiny incisions, and tiny scars. What I wound up with is five divots in my abdomen. I often stick my fingers in the deepest ones and marvel at their depth.

I am still terrified of my body. When I look at my abdomen in the mirror, it's with a horrified fascination. These scars are not getting smaller. They remind me daily of what cervical cancer took from me, and what it continues to take from me.

I am a stranger here, to myself. I want so much to disassociate, to be outside myself. I want to avoid the bodily twinges that mean nothing until you've have a terminal illness lurking silently inside your body. I have never really taken the time to get to know my body, to acknowledge it beyond the most superficial of ways. And now that I know it, I don't like it.

Full disclosure: there's a lot of superficiality here. In a bikini or naked, these scars seem to shout very loudly that I have defects. And I really hate that. I don't want anyone to see this. Why would anyone look at this without at least questions, if not outright disgust?

There is a huge part of me that would love to view cancer strictly in the rearview, but these five daily reminders mean I can't. Will they fade in time? Maybe, who knows? Perhaps I'll always have divots on my abdomen that scream out "I had major surgery on my abdomen!!!!"

The thing I tell myself is this: I am NOT damaged goods. These are battle scars, a battle I fought against cancer, a battle that I won. No, they are not beautiful, but they are part of a beautiful story. Five scars makes me lucky, not disfigured.

I'm scared of my body, and angry at it too, because my body let me down. It harbored a fugitive, one intent on killing me. But that fugitive, that cancer, lost in the end. And I won. I AM STILL HERE. I am still me, just a slightly different version, both inside and out. Divots and all.

Having Cancer Doesn't Make You A Saint

I have a dear friend who is going through an emergency medical situation right now, but doesn't know what's actually going on. This morning she asked me to pray for her, but qualified her request by saying that there are so many more people who need prayers. I asked if she felt less deserving of prayers because I'm usually requesting that people pray for friends with cancer. She said yes, because hers was "petty and nothing I can't handle."

We all need prayers. Especially when we are scared and hurting. Having cancer did not turn me into some papal creature, smooth and unblemished and completely perfect, and I'm about 99.999% that didn't happen to any of my other friends who have cancer either. We're still just people. We have a potentially terminal illness, some are sicker than others, some are going through treatments that are more physically and emotionally taxing than others, but we're HUMAN. We are no more deserving of care and compassion than anyone else in the world.

There are a lot of shitty things in this world, and there will ALWAYS be a lot of shitty things in this world, a world filled with perfectly imperfect human beings who screw up all the time in all kinds of ways. There is evil and death and depravity. But the beauty of this life that we have is that there is a flip side to that as well. This world is also full of perfectly imperfect humans who try their hardest to make things better. There is beauty and light and kindness.

I will pray for my friend today, that she receives answers, and that the problem is simple and can be resolved easily. And if the answers are more complicated, I will keep on praying until she heals.

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil: The Stigma Surrounding Cervical Cancer

The vast majority of cases of cervical cancer (90%, according to my oncologist) are caused by HPV, the Human Papillomavirus, an STI. And because HPV is an STI, there is a stigma surrounding cervical and other gyn based cancers: "good" girls don't get gyn cancer; what a slut; how many guys has she slept with?????? And my personal favorite, she deserves what she got.

NO ONE deserves to get a terminal illness. I don't care if a woman sleeps with every single man on the planet; that does NOT mean she deserves to get cancer. Statements like the ones I just mentioned are slut shaming, a horrendous form of bullying that is usually perpetuated against women by other women, well into adulthood. It is sick, and wrong, and sad.

According to Alan Kaye, the founder of the National Cervical Cancer Coalition (www.ncc-online.org), many people have a tendency to associate a diagnosis of cervical cancer with shame, isolation, and blame towards the person diagnosed. When you are diagnosed with cancer, you need all the support you can get, not people making judgements against you. Kaye also points out that 80% of all women and men would be HPV positive at some point in their lives by the time they're 50. HPV is silent, often asymptomatic, and can go away on it's own.

In my opinion, the stigma also exists because gyn cancers involve the female sex and reproductive organs, specifically the vagina in some form or fashion, and it kind of seems like vagina is a dirty word. If that is how you feel, please take a moment to rethink your position on the matter, because without vaginas, none of us would be here.

I was hesitant to tell people that I even had cancer, let alone what kind, because I was shaming myself. But my need for help and support overrode my reservations, so I made The Big Announcement. And you know what? I heard from tons of friends that they'd had irregular Pap smears, LEEP procedures, cervical cancer themselves. No one criticized me or blamed me, at least not to my face. And as I connected with more and more women facing the same illness as me (thank you, as always, Teal Ladies), I realized that I did not care at all if people were judging me behind my back. I know I did not deserve to get cancer. No matter what I did, or didn't do, I did not deserve to get cancer. No one does.

So aside from being judged, what's the problem with the cervical cancer stigma? First, it's not something that is talked about enough, so women are not always clear on what the warning signs are. Admittedly, the symptoms of cervical cancer can be ambiguous, or even non-existent. Second, it creates a culture of fear, leading women to be less inclined to see a gynecologist when they feel something isn't right. It's ostrich mentality - if I bury my head in the sand, I don't have to face something that I feel uncomfortable and ashamed about. Since early detection is the best way to arrest the disease with as simple treatment as possible, waiting to see a doctor can oftentimes mean waiting too long - that means terminal.

How do we get rid of the stigma surrounding cervical and other gyn cancers? We talk about it, in an informative, compassionate way. We give up the slut shaming. We don't play the blame game. We care about the HPV connection only in that we protect ourselves from HPV as we would any other STI, with contraceptives, or the Gardasil vaccination. We support our friends and relatives when they are diagnosed lovingly and without judgement.

xo jennie

(Information provided regarding Alan Kaye and the NCCC gathered from HPVNews interview with Kaye)

The Silver Lining

A few days ago, I intended to write a post about the positive things that come from being a cancer patient and survivor. Life happened, so the post was put on hold. So now, finally, here we go - you can read all about why getting cancer was actually beneficial to my life.

Cancer sucks; there's just no way around that fact. It is scary. It is painful. You lose control over your own body, because doctors are constantly are constantly probing and prodding. With gyn cancer, your oncologist basically becomes bff with your vagina. Almost all treatment procedures are invasive. I know, you're thinking that this was going to be positive, and it is. I just don't want to lose sight of the horror of this disease, and I don't want you to lose sight of it either. So here are the positive things that I've picked up so far.

Fact: I know now which people in my life will really, TRULY be there for me when I need them.

When I came out of the cancer closet, there were people that I was certain would be there right by my side, and others who wouldn't. But what I thought and what the reality turned out to be were two completely different things. People who I was positive would show up did not reach out at all. I never expected any of my friends to come wait on me hand and foot, but even a text saying "hey, i'm really sorry about what you're going through" would have been nice.

I know this sounds like a negative, but in reality, it showed me who I could turn to when I really needed someone to be there for me. Coming to this realization was definitely painful, but at least now I know.

Fact: I am able to help other women just beginning their journey with cervical cancer.

I knew basically nothing about gyn cancer before my diagnosis. I actually didn't know the physiology of my reproductive system as well as I thought. Of course, now I know way more than I ever wanted to, but that's knowledge that I can pass on to women facing hysterectomies who are uncertain of what to expect. I would be great if our doctors told us everything: how long the healing process really takes (4 weeks, ha!), your ovaries (if they are left in) going into hibernation for a few months while they recover from the trauma of surgery (I swore I was in menopause), weird joint pain, etc. But they don't tell us all of those things, and so we share our experiences with each other.

Fact: There are thousands of women all over the world fighting this same battle, and we all truly get it, no matter where we are.

I wish no woman ever had to go through this. But I am so grateful for the friends I have made during this journey. Most I will probably never meet face to face, but we are a sisterhood none the less. We support each other, obviously with cancer related issues, but with all aspects of life. I am so grateful to these ladies, my Teal Sisters, for holding my hand, talking me down off the ledge, and sharing their experience and wisdom with me.

Fact: I am a different person now than before I was diagnosed. I will never be the "old" me again. 

When you face a potentially terminal illness, your priorities shift in a major way. I have come to realize that I never truly valued what a gift my life is until I was in a position where I could lose it. Now, when I wake up in the morning, I am grateful that I have another day here.

I am stronger than I ever thought possible. I fought hard, and I have beaten cancer - my body has the scars to prove it. I am a survivor.

I wish I could have had these gifts brought to me in a different way. But I am glad to have them. Yes, cancer still sucks, but we still laugh together as well as cry. And I like the "new" me. I think I'll keep her :)

xo jennie

Fly High, Sweet Angel

Yesterday was a very sad day for so many. Felicia Huff gained her wings last night after fighting a hard battle against cervical cancer. She was in her very early 30's, with two young children. While I did not know Felicia, many of my friends did, and by nature of this horrible disease, she was my teal sister. My heart goes out to her family and friends today and in the long days and nights that follow as they must cope with this tragedy.

This brings up feelings of fear for me: Obviously I fear that my cancer will come back, ultimately end my life long before I am ready. I fear for my Teal Sisters, as I watch so many suffering, and wonder if it will be too much for their bodies to handle.

At times like these, we tend to say things like "At least she is no longer in pain." "She's in a better place now." And those are true. But her family and friends still ache. Her children will have to grow up without their mother. They want her HERE, healthy and pain free.

PLEASE, ladies, get regular Pap smears. Early detection is still our best chance minimal treatment and remission.

Please pray for Felicia's family and friends. Pray for a cure, so that no cancer patient will be lost ever again.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die. 

- Mary Elizabeth Frye

Fly high, sweet teal angel. May you rest in peace.

xo jennie

I Swear, I Was Going to Be Unicorns & Glitter Cannons Today

I really wanted to tell you today about the positive things having cancer has brought to my life. i know, "Whaaaa???? What could be good about cancer? Have you lost it completely?" Truth is, there really ARE good things that happen when you have cancer. Don't get me wrong, cancer SUCKS. And we need a cure, like, yesterday. So if all my science-minded friends could get on that, I'd totally bake you brownies. Maybe even a cake.

Anyway, I wanted to explain the unexpected gifts that cancer gives us. But then I read two posts on Facebook, and my thought process took a detour. First was a quote posted by Ali, a beautiful soul who has experienced way more pain in her life than she deserves.

"Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim." - Vicki Harrison

To me, this IS cancer. It's good days and bad, tears and laughter. And we have to learn to swim in that ocean, to allow myself to float and rise and fall with the swells, to not fight the tide, because in my experience, that's the only way to keep from drowning in my disease.

Then I read a post by Miriam, a true teal warrior. She knows far too much about the bad days. But her will to live, and her faith that god will give her the miracle she so deserves are strong. She wrote about being consumed by cancer, by medications, by doctor appointments, by physically feeling awful. All she wants this weekend is a break from the constant thought of cancer, to be able to enjoy her amazing husband and beautiful children. TO LIVE. And that is so awesome and inspiring.

Grief and cancer go hand in hand. It doesn't matter what type you have, what stage you are, what treatment you have to endure. When you are diagnosed with cancer, you grieve, because the person you were before you were told you had cancer is gone forever. In their place is a person who has to learn some lessons in the worst possible way. You learn how much your life means to you. You realize how much the people who really support you mean to you. You also learn who didn't show up when you needed that shoulder to cry on, but, though it is hard and it hurts, it's a good thing to know. You learn who you can count on.

In a way, cancer slows things down. You start to really value the simple things in life. And that's a beautiful lesson, because we are all too often caught up in the trappings of wealth and privilege. To a cancer patient, wealth and privilege mean being healthy. Not a McMansion, or a luxury car. For a cancer patient, you health is the greatest, strongest currency in the world. And privilege is the ability to live a long, healthy, happy life, surrounded by the people you love who also love you back with every fiber of their being.

To my teal sisters, and to all others battling cancer in any form, I pray that we all learn to swim.

xo jennie

Survivor's Guilt

I say over and over again how lucky I am. My oncologist removed all my cancer with my radical hysterectomy, and I required no further treatment (chemo, external radiation, or internal radiation, otherwise known as brachytherapy). I spent a lot of time minimizing my disease. Finally, my therapist told me to cut it out - that I had an illness that would have been fatal if it hadn't been treated effectively.

I have survivor's guilt. I feel guilty that I was so lucky, and that I didn't need the additional treatments that so many of my friends have needed. I see them sick, tired, in pain, and my heart breaks for them. And I am frustrated because this is something I can't relate to, and therefore have no words to make them feel better.

I feel guilty that I'm still alive. So many women aren't. So many women have tried every treatment available to them, and in the end, the cancer won.

I feel guilty that I have a child, and that I see women who will never have the opportunity to carry their own baby in their belly, or women who are now unable to expand their family the way they always dreamed they would.

I belong to an amazing support group on Facebook for women with Gyn cancer called the Teal Ladies. This group has been a huge source of knowledge for me, and the support I've received has been mind blowing. We are a sisterhood, a Teal sisterhood. It's a sisterhood none of us would have ever chosen to join, but we love and value each other because of our shared experiences. It is through these amazing women that I have learned that my feelings are fairly universal. I am not alone.

So what's a girl to do? I try to do the best I can to be empathetic to my friends still in treatment. I try to be encouraging. I tell them I believe in them. I honor the angels who have gained their wings. I tell myself that they aren't in pain anymore, that they are at peace. For the women who are unable to have children, I offer my ear to any that want to talk/rant/cry.

I live with the guilt of getting through cancer so easily, comparatively. I weep for these women who I love. I do what I can to make them smile, or to at least know that I'm here and that I care. I feel their pain, their sadness, but also their joy at milestones and victories they have achieved. I know we are all just doing our best to beat this horrible disease. And so I try very hard to not let my feelings of guilt overrun my life. I do always remember how lucky I am, and I always keep in mind that someone else is still fighting, someone is losing the battle, someone is giving up on their dreams in order to live a long and healthy life.

xoxo jennie

The 2014 National Race to End Women's Cancer

Miss Maryland 2014 Zereana Jess-Huff

On Sunday, November 2, I walked in the 2014 National Race to End Women's Cancer in Washington, DC. The MC for the event was the beautiful Miss Maryland 2014, Zereana Jess-Huff, an ovarian cancer survivor. She was an amazing speaker - she is obviously very passionate about gyn cancer awareness and care. The thing she said that I loved the most was "The war on breast cancer has been one... It's time to focus on other parts of our bodies... Our lady parts!" Obviously, ALL cancer is importan
t and needs awareness. But gyn cancer does not get the attention it so desperately needs.
In the US, Pap smears are not considered necessary by the CDC until a woman is 21. With HPV causing cervical cancer, that is just too late. While cervical cancer is considered to be slow growing, that is not always the case. Early detection is the best way to get effective treatment, and as minimal treatment as possible.
Camille Grammer also spoke. She is a recent survivor of endometrial cancer. Her positivity and encouragement were absolutely mind-blowing. She is the sweetest woman, and I'm honored for the chance to have met her.

Camille Grammer

The event was both a 5 k run and a 1 mile walk. Obviously, I picked the walk! My mother walked beside me the whole time. We cried off and on, for t
hose we have loved that were taken by cancer, for the survivors, which we both are, for those still fighting. And we cried tears of love and gratitude to be a part of this amazing, much needed event. My dad and my stepmother (another cancer survivor!!!) walked with us. My mom's best friend ran the 5k. And our family friend, Joe, who lost his wife to uterine cancer, came out as well.
Thanks to everyone who donated to my team, I raised $6,465.00, and was the second highest non-corporate fundraising team! It was so gratifying to see that I could make a difference. All donations go towards research for treatments and a cure, raising public awareness, and providing education about gyn cancers.

It was a bitterly cold and windy day, but it was a beautiful day. To see so many people out there, walking, running, hugging, laughing, crying - it was amazing. We were all connected by the horrible disease that is cancer, but that allowed us to be open to each other, for strangers to cease to exist. Cancer does not discriminate. It is an evil beast looking to take over your life. On Sunday, we were able to fight back, and say no more, this ends!






Oh, and next year, I'll be out walking in a teal tutu!









xoxo jennie

The Cancer is Gone - Bring on the Depression

This picture is of me right after I found out that I was NED. I did not think I could be any happier. And then I went home, and in the coming days became depressed. I was crying at the drop of a hat, paralyzed by fear that the cancer wasn't really gone, or that it would come back. And I stayed that way for a good long while.
The truth is, fear still lives in the back of my mind. Cancer does not have a cure. The best any of us can hope for at this point in time is that treatment removes the deadly cells, and that they stay gone. But it's not so easy to have faith that that will be the way.
In two years, I will be out of the "danger zone," the time frame most likely for my cancer to recur. Does that mean that if I make it to two years with no evidence of disease in my body that I will be cancer free forever? Of course not.
I had no idea why I became so depressed after getting the all clear. I should have been jumping up and down, throwing the biggest party ever. Instead, I would lay in my bed, weep, and worry obsessively. I have learned that this is completely normal. During treatment, you are doing everything medically possible to rid your body of cancer. Then treatment ends, and it's like, "Now what?" You aren't actively doing anything any more to keep the cancer away. You have to have faith that you have done enough.
Faith and cancer do not go hand in hand. For the most part, no one expects to get cancer. Sure, there are high risk lifestyles that make it more likely, but it's still a slap in the face when the diagnosis comes down. My body betrayed me. God betrayed me. I was completely powerless. I had to make a choice: do I live in fear, or do I treasure every day that I have, with as little worry as possible for what other things I could have done and not being consumed with fear by what could happen in the future.
My life is a gift, and cancer showed me that. I WANT TO LIVE. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure I live a long, healthy, happy life.
And these days, when I wake up, I make a conscious choice to be present, to live in the moment, to trust that God is guiding me on the path I am meant to take. I am not perfect at this, by any means. I still cry. I still worry. But that happens less and less.
I am lucky. My body is healthy, and growing stronger by the day. And I am a survivor.

GYN Cancer Symptoms

If you experience any of these symptoms, contact your gynecologist IMMEDIATELY. Early detection is the best chance for a full recovery with minimal treatment! Please remember that early stage cancers often show no symptoms, and that many of these symptoms are ambiguous. PLEASE see your gynecologist for annual Pap smears. And listen to your body - you know it best. If something feels wrong, seek help, and do not stop until you get some answers.

Cervical Cancer Symptoms

• irregular vaginal bleeding
• vaginal discharge with an unpleasant odor
• watery vaginal discharge
• vaginal discharge tinged with blood
• pelvic or back pain
• pain during sex
• problems urinating
• problems defecating
• swelling of the legs

Ovarian Cancer Symptoms

• frequent bloating
• quickly feeling full when eating
• difficulty eating
• frequent, urgent need to urinate
• pain or discomfort in the abdomen or pelvis

Uterine Cancer Symptoms

• Abnormal vaginal bleeding, spotting, or discharge
• Pain or difficulty when emptying the bladder
• Pain during sex
• Pain in the pelvic area

Endometrial Cancer Symptoms

• thin clear or whitish discharge if you’ve been through menopause
• bleeding in between periods or having periods that last longer than usual
• heavy bleeding, bleeding that lasts a long time, or frequent bleeding if you’re over 40
• lower abdominal or pelvic pain
• painful intercourse

my story

In April of 2014, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Something had been wrong with me for a while, but cancer was never something that was on my radar. I had a Pap smear at the beginning of April. Two weeks later, my gynecologist started calling me. I ignored the first two calls, figuring it was a nurse in the office calling to say the Pap was normal, see you in a year. The third call I answered. My gynecologist herself was calling, and her words stopped my heart: "You have cervical cancer. You need to see an gynecological oncologist immediately." After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I went into problem solving mode. I spent a day and a half making phone calls between various practices and my insurance company before finally getting an appointment with a gyn oncologist at Sibley Hospital in Washington DC.
A week later, I went for my first appointment. Based on the lab results from my Pap smear, and an internal exam, my oncologist classified me as stage 1a1 - very early stage cervical cancer. The type of cancer was adenocarcinoma in situ. The first step to take was a cone biopsy, where my oncologist would biopsy a section of my cervix. Hopefully, he would be able to get clean margins, meaning that the biopsy removed all the cancerous areas. I had the biopsy done on May 5, and went home to wait for the pathology results.
The results came back, and they were not good. My cervix was riddled with cancer - no clean margins. My staging was upgraded to 1b1 - still early stage, but it was definitely not fun to get higher on the staging scale. During this appointment, my oncologist asked if I had children - yes, one son. He asked if I planned to have more children - nope! His recommendation was a radical robotic hysterectomy. I agreed instantly. The only thing I cared about was getting the cancer out of my body. We scheduled the surgery for June 16.
For those fortunate not to know, here's what my hysterectomy would entail: Laparoscopic incisions would be made in my abdomen. The DaVinci Robot (http://www.davincisurgery.com/da-vinci-surgery/da-vinci-surgical-system/) would sever my fallopian tubes from my ovaries, cut my uterus from the ligaments and tendons that held it in place, take samples for biopsy from my ovaries, the aforementioned tendons and ligaments, and remove lymph nodes. My uterus and cervix were removed from my body vaginally. Biopsy samples were taken from my uterus and vaginal canal as well.
The surgery went very well. When I woke up in recovery, my oncologist told me that, while we would need to wait for the biopsy results to confirm, from his visual perspective, all the cancer was gone. I was relieved, but only cautiously optimistic. So far, nothing had gone my way.
I went home the day after surgery. My mother, bless her heart, stayed for a week to take care of me and help with my son. The call finally came from my oncologist - the biopsies were clear, and no further treatment was needed. It was great news.
I had some complications from surgery, a hematoma and some blocked lymph nodes, that kept me in incredible pain and flat on my back in bed for the majority of the summer. But I healed. I am still healing. But I am getting there.
In September, I went for my 3 month exam, and was officially declared NED - No Evidence of Disease. My recurrence rate is 5%. I am incredibly lucky, and I thank God every day for allowing me to keep the precious gift that is my life.
I am in remission, but that doesn't mean that cancer is not still a huge part of my life. I have fears about it coming back. I worry that I didn't do enough. I cry. But I try to turn this experience into a positive one. Gyn cancer is not talked about enough, and I am here to talk about it - the good, the bad, and the ugly. I hope that you can take something away from this; I hope that I can teach you things I wish I hadn't learned the hard way.

thank you for reading.

xo jennie