Surviving & thriving: 1 year on from ovarian cancer
This week marks 1 year since I walked up the steps of the Royal Marsden hospital, ready to forgo the biggest operation of my life. So much has happened, and yet I remember every minute of that morning so vividly, like it was only yesterday.
A couple of weeks ago, I met a fellow ovarian cancer survivor
She is a little older, most certainly wiser and has been in remission for many years now. She said something that really struck a chord with me. Words that encouraged me to write this update to my blog 1 year on:
“It’s important to give others hope. And to show those who are currently suffering that there is, and can, be life on the other side of cancer.”
And I couldn’t agree more. When I was in the depths of treatment and recovery, I was desperate to hear the stories of people who were living life again. To know that there was something on the other side. Often, and understandably, much of what is online focuses on the difficulties — the side effects, the loss, the heartbreak. I have to admit, I found it hard to read, and chose to opt out.
As I sit here one year on, I feel a responsibility to show it is possible to move onwards, and start to rebuild life again. And to possibly give even the smallest of hopes to those who may need it right now.
In my earlier blog posts, I shared my story up to the point of being given those precious words “no evidence of disease” in January 2021
What a relief it was, but I realise now the rollercoaster that then ensues afterwards. It’s one thing knowing treatment has been successful, and that at least some of the suffering has been worthwhile. But it’s quite another to be ‘drug free’, and needing to stay cancer free, your body being left to its own devices for the first time since finding out you had cancer. My first check up 3 months post treatment was more nerve wracking than I’d ever considered, although thankfully it was continued good news. I hope it’s the same story for my next consultation in just a few weeks time.
The first few months of 2021 started gently.
With the UK in its 3rd lockdown, this suited me. I spent the time rebuilding both physically and mentally. I completed the couch to 5k running programme, which gave me a goal to work towards, and was proud that I could get back to running again. I remember looking back after just a couple of weeks after my surgery, shuffling round the park for my daily walk, and seeing the runners… and feeling so jealous! I was glad to be back again.
I started back at work in March
initially very slowly, for a couple of hours a week, getting reacquainted to a different business area (I’d moved jobs back to the UK when we came back from Jersey in October), and mostly remembering what it was like to have some routine again. It was tough at first. I felt rudderless, and lacked confidence in my ability. But slowly, the brain fog started to lift, and I started to find my ‘mojo’ again. It felt like life was starting to get back to ‘normal’ again — or as close to normal as commuting to your spare room for a day sitting on Zoom calls can be!
I started to get that itchy feeling
like I wanted to do more to make a difference, especially for others who have my rarer variant of ovarian cancer. So chatting to some of the ladies I’ve met along the way, I decided to bring together a group of like minded women, all with Low Grade Serous Ovarian Cancer, and all who want to channel their experiences into something positive. It’s still early days, but I have such a good feeling about the impact we can make as a strong willed, determined and resilient group of women — watch this space!
In May, something extraordinary happened
It was World Ovarian Cancer Day (all these ‘days’ which I never paid much attention to are suddenly very relevant!). I’ve shared before about one of the joys to come out of my experience has been meeting and connecting with some incredible women from around the world. In the run up to this day, I had connected with a fellow teal sister who was doing some amazing work to promote awareness of our disease, organising a billboard takeover in Times Square, NYC for the day. I don’t know where it came from, but I had the mad idea to see if we could double the impact, and do something similar here in the UK. A callout on LinkedIn, the kindness of strangers, and less than 10 days to pull together a plan, I can still hardly believe what we achieved.
On the 8th May, I proudly stood in Piccadilly Circus, watching the brave, bold and beautiful advert — “An ad you can’t miss for a cancer you do” — takeover Piccadilly Lights, as well as over 300 billboards across the UK. We received national and international press coverage, and it will forever go down as one of my proudest moments, knowing I had made it happen.
As the country starts to come out of the pandemic, I too feel like I am starting to emerge back into the world
I’m beginning to look like my old self again! My hair is growing back thick and fast — I have eyelashes, eyebrows (and nose hair!) again — and being back at the gym for a few months now, I feel physically much stronger. The scar that runs down the centre of my abdomen (or my ‘zip’ as my mother fondly refers to it!) has healed beautifully (my surgeon did tell me how proud he was of his needlework!), and as we get into swimwear season, instead of feeling like I want to cover it up, I actually feel a sense of confidence and pride in what my body has achieved, and what it looks like — something I certainly haven’t always felt, even pre cancer!
I’ve enjoyed some wonderful memorable experiences too, from a day out at Wimbledon to weekends away, to proper family time. It sounds cheesy, but I really am savouring quality time with my favourite people.
I recently spoke at a work event
sharing my experience of cancer — a hugely cathartic experience and a real opportunity to reflect how far I’ve come. It felt so positive to impart some of my ‘tips’ to others who may be going through something similar, or who have family members in the same situation.
It’s not long until my 40th birthday
a milestone I do not take for granted, and know that others with my cancer have not been so lucky to reach. I intend on celebrating to the max, and making the most of feeling healthy and positive. Long may it continue!
