Several people have asked me to post our story. It's not that I think our tale is super-special, but I do believe that knowing the back story may help future posts make more sense.
So, if you need a cup of coffee or a bathroom break, now would be a good time...we have 20 years to cover :)
October 8, 1994 was an amazingly beautiful fall day in Flagstaff, AZ. Surrounded by kith and kin, Jay and I promised to be forever best friends and love each other no-matter-what. Little did we know that "no-matter-what" would happen sooner rather than later.
In March, 1996, I underwent my first surgery in Phoenix, AZ. My surgical oncologist diagnosed me with Borderline Ovarian Cancer. The borderline meant that the tumors found on both ovaries were malignant, however, they were slower growing than many forms of ovarian cancer. My surgeon felt confident that all the cancer had been removed.
In July 1996, Jay and I moved to Tennessee so that Jay could begin his forestry career. My doctor in Phoenix referred me to an oncologist in Nashville to continue check-ups. Our first visit with her was in October 1996. After reviewing my records, her recommendation for long term survival was a total hysterectomy and lymph node biopsy. We were stunned into silence. We told her that we would need time to process the information before returning an answer to her. We spent several weeks in prayer and seeking counsel from my Phoenix oncologist, who felt the procedure was unnecessary. After weeks of fervent prayer, we made the decision to err on the side of caution and proceed with the hysterectomy.
On December 9, 1996, the surgery was performed. The lymph node biopsies revealed the cancer had indeed spread and was coursing through my blood stream. This meant that chemotherapy would also be necessary. Chemo treatments began on January 7, 1997. I'm not sure if we were just young and hopeful or incredibly naive, but we approached the next six months with the attitude that we would knock this out of the park and move on with our lives. We were new in town and really didn't know anyone, so our families and friends took turns flying / driving out to spend time with us. It was truly our life line.
On my 24th birthday, my oncologist declared me "cancer free" and my chemo port was removed. BIGGEST . PARTY . EVER . We were so thrilled to finally be getting on with life. I continued annual checkups and all was well for a very long time.
Jay and I had always wanted children. This was the most devastating part of having a hysterectomy. In 2000, we were approached by a woman that I knew. She confided that she was pregnant with twin girls. She was in her early 40's and stated that she didn't want to & was unable to raise the children. She was aware of our situation, and wanted to know our interest in adopting the girls. Jay and I had discussed adoption, but had never felt called to pursue it - until that day. We prayed, discussed and prayed some more. We decided to proceed. We hired an attorney who specialized in private adoptions and met with a social worker to begin the adoption process. We knew that due to the birth mother's age and the fact that she was pregnant with twins placed her in a high risk category. Knowing this, our social worker told us not to purchase or decorate anything, except 2 preemie car seats and to place the car seats in a closet. We took her advice but couldn't help but be thrilled. Plans to work from home part-time were made, baby names were chosen, and anxiously, we waited. Two months before the babies were due, we were scheduled to tour the hospital and meet with the doctors and nurses to finalize the birth plan. The day before our tour date, we received a phone call. The birth mother had gone into early labor. Both baby girls were born, however, they only lived a few moments. We couldn't breathe, we couldn't speak. All we could do was cry and say that God must know something we didn't and at least the girls were safe in the arms of Jesus. We thanked God that they would never know pain or sorrow. All they would know is love, light and peace in the arms of their Jesus. After the shock wore off, we decided that we couldn't face that type of heartbreak again and chose not to again pursue adoption.
In 2008, I underwent surgery to remove my gallbladder. During the procedure, my surgeon noticed a large mass in my upper abdomen. A biopsy returned the results of metastatic ovarian cancer. We met with my oncologist and a second surgery was scheduled. During that surgery, a Gastrointerology Surgeon was called in to assist because a large mass was discovered in my colon. They removed half of my colon and were able to splice the remains back together. After a lengthy recovery, chemo began for a second time. This time, however, one full year of chemo would be required. We determined to face this with as much humor as possible. We were blessed with friends and family that kept our fridge and freezer stocked at all times and ensured we were well cared for. I worked as much as possible and the blessing of a gracious boss allowed me that.
Several times toward the end of treatments, I told Jay that I was done! I was tired of being in pain, throwing up and being bald. Enough was enough! Jay would calmly encourage me to continue. We were relieved when the year of treatments ended. This time instead of just forgetting and moving on, I was on edge about every ache and pain that occurred. I realized how ridiculous I was being when one day I told Jay, "My toe really hurts - I wonder why?" With exasperation he said, "Mandy, you DO NOT have toe cancer!" I realized I needed to just get over it!
In June 2012, I had a CT scan done because I felt a mass in my upper abdomen. The CT revealed a partially calcified mass...ie: the cancer was back- again.
I had a friend who went to Cancer Treatment Centers (CTCA) in Chicago. He encouraged me to go there when this new diagnosis occurred. I contacted CTCA and was scheduled to undergo testing 2 weeks later.
The first time we walked through the doors of CTCA, we knew the right choice had been made. The hope coursing through the facility was palpable. I spent the next 9 days going through a battery of tests and meeting with my new oncology team. The cancer was once again, metastatic ovarian cancer.
When ovarian cancer recurs (especially multiple times), it is very unlikely that it will be cured. At best, the cancer can be treated and kept stable for as long as possible. That is our current goal. Through various treatments, the cancer has remained stable for almost 3 years. We are scheduled to return in July to undergo more scans. A biopsy will also be done for genomic testing. They will test the cancer cells against multiple treatments to see what the cancer responds to. This method is much preferred to pulling a chemo off the shelf and hoping for the best.
Many prayers are being offered up for a miracle. Often, I pray for that too, but I know that if this cancer can serve a purpose for God - if even one person comes to know Him and His amazing love because of this - then it will all be worth it. So, until God heals me with a miracle, or calls me home to be with Him, I will continue to live this precious life to the fullest. I will not take one day for granted. I will greet each day with a smile, and say "Thank you, God" for one more day, one more moment to see the faces of the people I love and spend it enjoying your creation.
I will look at every ache, every pain, every difficulty as a moment to allow HIS grace to shine and be sufficient.
Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.
2 Corinthians 12:9 (NLT)
Blessings,
Mandy
