Survivor Stories
Survivor Stories Links
You can go to www.uabhealth.org/gynonc to see Dianne Baer's story and Connie Lamonte's story along with a few more.
Kathy's Story
My name is Kathy Wickstrom and this is my story. I thought my life was pretty normal. I had a wonderful family, my husband of 9yrs John and my daughter Carrie who was 23 at the time. We all had our daily lives working and spending time with our family and friends. My husband and I work for Flavor-Pic Tomato Co., Inc. in Birmingham and Carrie had just begun work for Hydra Service in Warrior. I also stayed busy catering weddings and special events as a hobby. I had thought many times that there had to be more to life than what I was doing. I wondered what my purpose in life was and little did I know I was about to figure it out.
My symptoms started the beginning of October 2006 and I was 47 at the time. I had cramps that were off and on and would make you think it was more intestinal than anything else. My symptoms continued to worsen over the next couple of months. I went to my family doctor that I have been using for 25 years and he diagnosed me with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I found out later this miss diagnoses was a very common occurrence. I was given a prescription and it gave me a little relief but it didn’t solve the problem.
By the end of November, my symptoms had worsened to the point I could hardly function. I was so swollen through my abdominal area that I could hardly wear my clothes. It was like I had gained weight but the scales didn’t reflect that. I couldn’t eat more than a couple of bites at a time and the heart burn and indigestion was unbearable. I went to the emergency room to avoid all the red tape with my insurance company because I knew they would do the necessary test and not give me the run a round. They did a CAT scan and blood work and my test results were normal except I had fluid in my abdominal cavity which is a classic symptom of ovarian cancer. They told me to see my regular doctor and I left there really irritated and still knowing that something was terribly wrong.
Three days later Sunday Dec. 3rd I was back in the same emergency room. The only thing I could think about was one year ago this very day my daughter was being airlifted from a horrible car accident and was taken to the very same emergency room. I was in so much pain I couldn’t imagine what could be wrong. This time I was able to see a different doctor and he did another CAT scan and more blood work. The nurse came in and asked who my Gynecologist was? I had a partial hysterectomy in November of 1994 but they didn’t take my ovaries because I was only 35. At that very moment I knew I was in trouble. The doctor came in and told me I had a mass and that it could be ovarian cancer. As I left the emergency room that night I knew my life was forever changed.
The following morning Monday Dec. 4th I called and made an appointment with Dr. DuBois at MCE for that afternoon. He re-confirmed everything I had heard the night before and he also told me I would probably need to have chemo as well. We scheduled my de-bulking surgery for that Thursday Dec. 7th. He also did a CA-125 blood test which measures the proteins in your blood for ovarian cancer. The normal range for this test is 0-35. They next day he called me with the results. Mine was 3100. I went in for surgery that Thursday morning thinking I didn’t care what they did to me I just wanted to feel better.
After the surgery Dr. DuBois informed my family that it was ovarian cancer and he wasn’t able to get all. He then explained how ovarian cancer works. He described it like splattering paint on a wall with a paint brush. It’s like little seeds, it just spreads everywhere. I spent the first night in the hospital in the Intensive Care unit. The next day I was moved to regular room. Over the next several days I did very well and I went home on Monday Dec. 11th.
My recovery went great and I wanted to get started with the chemo ASAP. I scheduled the surgery to have a port placed in my chest. That would be where they administered the intravenous chemo. I also had a PET scan which would give the doctors a guide line to work from. I started my chemo Jan. 5th 2007 with Dr. Tucker also at MCE. I had 1 round of 6 regular chemo treatments. I took Carboplatin and Taxol. After the first treatment I was deathly ill. At that point I was ready to quit. I lost 15 lbs in 7 days. I returned to work part time and the next 5 treatments were better as the side effects were less and less. These were the newest drugs on the market for ovarian cancer. I responded well to the treatments, so well that after the final treatment in April my CA-125 was 87 and my PET scan was clear.
Dr. Tucker thought I needed to have a second look surgery to make sure all of the cancer was gone. He sent me to Dr. Mack Barnes at UAB Gynecologic Oncology. Dr. Barnes wanted to do the surgery and also recommended that I have 3 to 5 intraperitoneal (abdominal cavity) treatments which would be determined after the surgery. He did laparoscopic surgery and also placed a port in my abdomen needed to take the other treatments. The surgery was a success. There was no sign of cancer and I would only need 3 treatments.
I started the new treatments the beginning of July and finished them the end of August. I tolerated them fairly well. The side effects of these treatments were much different than regular chemo treatments. There were 2 different drugs Cisplatin and Taxotere and the treatments were given on a day 1 day 8 regimen. Day 1 I took one drug and on day 8 I took another. After the day 1 treatment I had a pit in my stomach for about a week and I was just really tired. After the day 8 treatment I was really bloated and swollen because all of the drugs were put into my abdominal cavity about 2 liters worth. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought I was pregnant. After a couple of days I would start feeling somewhat normal.
After my final treatment I went for a PET scan and a CA-125 blood test. My visit with Dr. Barnes on Monday Sept. 10th revealed great news. My PET scan was clear and my CA-125 was 11. My cancer is was in remission. Praise the Lord!!! Dr. Barnes told me to go live my life and enjoy it. During my journey I was helping my daughter plan her dream wedding. We celebrated her marriage to her husband Ben Hill on Saturday Sept. 15th. We had a lot to celebrate that week!
In the beginning I didn’t want to know anymore than the doctors were telling me. Emotionally that’s all I could handle. I didn’t feel I needed to be reading all the reports on the internet. After a while I was able to deal better and I was ready to know more. Through all of my research I have learned there is no cure for ovarian cancer. That was very scary for me but something I have learned to live with.
I visited the doctor again on Monday Jan. 14th 2008 and everything is still clear. Nothing has changed since my last visit I am still in REMISSION. I have another appointment in May 2008.
During my journey I had and still do have a wonderful support group in my family, friends, co-workers and even complete strangers. My cousin Debbie Martin was my rock through all of this. I could talk to her and she would cry with me which is something I tried not to do with my husband and daughter. I didn’t want to worry them any more than necessary.
I now know what my purpose in life is. I have become very involved in the Relay for Life with the American Cancer Society and CanSurvive a support group for women with Gynecologic cancers. We have to work to find a cure for all cancers. It is a devastating disease that affects so many people and not just the patient.
Our lives are back to normal except things are a lot busier now. I do have a little voice in the back of my mind that always keeps me wondering. I have learned I can’t dwell on it but it’s hard and it’s a daily battle. The mind is a powerful thing. It sounds crazy but I feel the cancer has been a blessing. I have met so many wonderful people and I have made some life long friends. If I can make a difference in just one person’s life then I have accomplished my goal!
Letter from Laura...
It’s now the wee hours of the morning, and I can’t sleep so I’m up writing. One of my friends said that she, too, could never sleep the night after chemo. You just lie in bed exhausted, but sleep is elusive. During that enigma, she discovered a beautiful mockingbird that lived outside her window. He would sing to her during those hours of sleeplessness and she considered it a sign of God’s comfort. The only thing I’ve heard outside tonight is a screeching, disgruntled cat. I’m not exactly sure what it means that she got a mockingbird and I got a lunatic cat.
I think I allowed my mind to get a little ahead of my body. I felt like once I got the cancer free diagnosis, all things would be back to normal. I somehow forgot about the fact that the cancer never made me feel sick - the treatments made me feel sick. I’m still taking the treatments so I’m still not back to my old self. That’s a little disappointing, but I’m trying to just take this time to rest and be still.
Over the past three months, I’ve established a nice little head of thick, dark, one-inch long hair. Because of the new treatments, it’s now falling out again. You wouldn’t think that would be a big deal. It is. They said this treatment would only thin my hair, not make it completely fall out. I’m hoping they’re right.
Three weeks ago I received a report that said my CT scan was cancer free. Yesterday I found out the CT scan only covered the base of my neck, not the entire neck. So here I am today, in this all too familiar waiting place (literally and figuratively), to hear if the cancer is indeed gone or if the first test results were not accurate.
Although the setting is familiar, my feelings are different. I’m awed by the absolute peace I have this time. I’ve learned a lot by being on both sides of cancer, and I’m going to reveal to you a truth that shocked me. The cancer free diagnosis didn’t completely change my life. Now don’t get me wrong – when I found out the cancer was gone I was absolutely delighted. Cancer free certainly is the outcome I prefer. For the first time in months, I feel like I have a future. I’ve begun dreaming and hoping again. And it certainly is a praiseworthy event. So at one level, cancer vs. cancer free is completely different.
However, in the ordinary, mundane, day-to-day life (which somehow translates into one extraordinary journey), being cancer free didn’t change things that much. After all, it was cancer that taught me to treasure each day; not the cancer free diagnosis. Cancer taught me to smile more; not the cancer free diagnosis. Cancer taught me that rather ordinary is quite extraordinary; not the cancer free diagnosis. Cancer taught me that life is really, really good; not the cancer free diagnosis. Cancer taught me to love completely even if it means getting hurt; not the cancer free diagnosis. Cancer taught me that God is always, always near; not the cancer free diagnosis. So whatever the new CT scan reveals, I’m going to be just fine.
This summer I lost two friends from high school. They were both 33 years old. One died from an extended illness, one from an unexpected car wreck. They both were beautiful people. People that made you say, “My life is better because I knew that person -- if only for a while.” Their deaths have reminded me of both the preciousness and unpredictability of life. Today might be my last day on earth, or I could live longer than anyone reading this email. Cancer is a diagnosis, not a prognosis. Likewise, life is an uncertainty, not a guarantee. Cancer has taught me that life is defined by your days lived, not the date you die. It has taught me that all of life is a continuous journey across a rough terrain. As soon as you get to the top of the mountain peak, you start descending back into the valley. As soon as you reach the depths of the valley, you start ascending towards the mountain top. But through it all, I’ve found one common denominator – for those that love the Lord, all of life brings you closer to Christ. When I stay on the mountain top, I’m not moving closer to Christ. When I wallow in the depths of the valley, I’m not moving closer to Christ. It’s only when I keep going that I move closer to Christ. And all along the journey I find myself crying out, “Father I’ve given you my life! I want to believe! But I’m tired, and weary, and heavy-laden. How much more is this going to cost me?” And through searching His Word, the answer I consistently get is simple: “Cost you? Nothing. That price has been paid. This journey is your gift from Me. It is designed to move you closer to Me. But the journey towards Me isn’t walked down a smooth path with well-shod feet, the journey is through unbearable heat, barren desserts, and thorny fields, and it is covered one tear at a time.” And it’s then that I realize I simply can’t move closer to God on my own accord. The only way for me to get closer to God is to just fall down on my face crying and wait for Jesus to come along and scoop me up. Unfortunately, Jesus is not a bus driver. I can’t say, “Jesus! I’ve got the schedule. You were supposed to here 15 minutes ago. You’re late! Where are you?!?” Oh, no. Jesus is more like a Daddy. I’m the kid in the back seat whining, “How much looooooooooonger?” and Jesus just answers, “We’ll get there when we get there!”
Before cancer, when a crisis came into my life, my standard modus operandi was “Kill the Crisis Quickly.” I thought the best thing to do with a crisis was to get rid of it. I’ve changed my mind. Cancer has changed my mind. God has changed my mind. You see, cancer has given me tears, but God has held me. Cancer has given me anxiety, but God has calmed me. Cancer has given me fear, but God has given me peace. Cancer has made me weak, but God has given me strength. Cancer has confused my mind, but God has given me clarity. Cancer has made me feel foolish, but God has given me wisdom. Cancer has given me doubt, but God has given me hope.
Cancer has made me tired, but God has given me help. Cancer has made me sad, but God has given me joy. Cancer has broken my heart, but God has forged a new heart. So the next time a crisis comes my way, instead of trying to kill it, I’m going to care for it, cradle it, comfort it, and most importantly, carry it to the Cross. I know now that my crises are worthy of this treatment, because I’ve learned that my greatest crisis just might evolve into my greatest blessing.
Oh, how I covet your prayers. My joy flows only because Christ graciously continues to intercede on my behalf. Thank you for keeping me before the Throne of Grace.
Love,
Laura
Interview with Marion Hopper…
Marion Hopper joined the CanSurvive Group in 2004 after her chemotherapy nurse, Mary Jerome, encouraged her to do so. She is now an active member of the CanSurvive GYN Support Group and feels she has gained invaluable knowledge and developed new friendships through the support group. During this interview, Marion expressed her desire to share her story with others through our Newsletter. She gave us permission to share with the hopes of inspiring and supporting others who may be newly diagnosed or experiencing a recurrence. She wants to encourage women to attend the support group meetings and be active participants in their medical care. She encourages women to ask questions about treatments as well as research protocols that may be available for them.
Marion was diagnosed with Stage III ovarian cancer in June 2004. She describes her first symptoms as bloating and vague abdominal pain. Her treatment course included surgery by UAB GYN Oncologist Dr. Mack Barnes and her gyn surgeon Dr. William Johnson at Baptist Montclair in July 2004. She participated in a research study at UAB following surgery and received chemotherapy through the research protocol. Mary Jerome, was her chemotherapy nurse and Connie McCombs was her research nurse. She completed eight cycles of Carboplatin, Taxol, and Doxil in December 2004. She experienced a recurrence in 2006 and completed six cycles of Carboplatin, Lapatinab in June 2006. She said her CA-125 was 8 and there was no evidence of disease at the end of the study.
Marion says that she has a wonderful support system. She has been married to her husband Jim for over 48 years and resides in Lincoln, Alabama. She has one son, Dennis, and three daughters; Karen Burttram, Sharon Gray, and Susan Randle. One of her twin daughters, Karen, works with the CanSurvive Support Group on the Newsletter. She also has six grandchildren. She said her family is very loving and supportive. Her church family at Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church in Pell City also provides care and support. Marion believes the network of support was very instrumental in assisting her through these times.
Marion would like to encourage women and their families that they may experience ovarian cancer or other gynecological cancer. She said, “It is important to have faith and trust in God. Never give up! Allow the nurses and doctors to do their jobs but do not be afraid to ask questions. Share your thoughts and feelings with others, especially your caregivers. Remember there is always help available. Be encouraged and be an encourager. Be positive and think positive when around others.” Marion’s goal is to continue to encourage others by sharing her experiences and through her participation in research studies.