"Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month"

Most of you who read this blog I assume already know about our family's battle with Ovarian Cancer. But for those of you who do not, I will give some brief history. My sister Elliot, passed away 3 short months ago from a rare and aggressive form of ovarian cancer. Elliot is my only sibling, and best friend in the world. I fear the hole in my heart will never close. The loss is tremendous and enormously painful. Elliot was 36 years old and left behind her husband and their two children (ages 4 and 6).  I have not opened up publicly on this blog about this, and am not sure if or when I will. Maybe one day I can begin to write about this, but for now, the thoughts and feelings remain close to my heart.  Elliot was diagnosed last September and passed away a mere 8 months later. Little did we know last September, what a journey our small, tight-knit family was about to embark on.  We also didn't know last year, that September is "Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month".  Upon her diagnosis, suddenly we found ourselves in a sea of teal, and surrounded by many other young women with similar diagnoses. We all banded together with Elliot and her friends in the fight for their lives. Jesus took Elliot to her eternal home on May 28, 2012, and we will never be the same. We know we will live forever with her, but until that time, we feel as if we have a mission to carry her story to as many people as we can - both men and women - and to keep her legacy alive. Elliot's diagnosis stunned the medical professionals, as they had never seen a case so rare and so aggressive. She was never in some sort of "high risk" category. She was simply a beautiful, healthy, vibrant, young mother who fell prey to an awful disease. Cancer does not discriminate. Cancer doesn't care what you look like, it doesn't care how wonderful your life is, it doesn't care about how much life you still have left to live, it doesn't care that a family has to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives and somehow keep living without their loved one, and it doesn't care about the hurt and confusion in the eyes of young children.  Cancer can affect any one of us at any time.  It is not "that other person's" disease.

Just one week ago, I sent an email out to about 60 women in my contact list telling them a very similar thing - mainly that September was Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. I encouraged them all to make sure that they are going to the doctor regularly and watching their own bodies for changes. There are very few early detection methods for this type of cancer and symptoms easily look like other things. Awareness is the best early detection method because there really isn't anything else out there yet - though research is being done to help find better detection methods.  Well, I had my regular appointment on the calendar for Monday, and had sent the email out the night before on Sunday. My doctor wants to see me every 6 months instead of every year now, so when Ellison was born, I went ahead and made my 6 month appointment.  I went to the doctor alone, already alittle vulnerable and fragile having not been in that environment since Elliot's death. I was supposed to have an ultrasound first before seeing the doctor. The ultrasound tech asked why I was there since I wasn't having any symptoms, and I told her that I was there for preventative care and then proceeded to tell her Elliot's story. We were both in tears, but she said she had already heard of her story through Facebook, though she didn't know her.  She then began my ultrasound and got very quiet. I knew what that meant. She said, "well, your right ovary looks okay, but your left one does not - but I don't want to freak you out".  She then said, "your doctor might just want to be more proactive after what your sister just went through and your family history now".  (Before Elliot's diagnosis, we had no family history of ovarian cancer). Well, I tried to maintain my composure and headed down the long hallway, up the elevator, to my doctor's room. I lost all composure when he walked in the room - mainly because it was an all too familiar scene and the language was all too familiar, and honestly, I just wanted my sister there with me. He told me that I had a complex cyst on my left ovary and that my ovary and fallopian tube needed to be removed (complex means that a cyst is filled with fluid and also some solid material. The fluid is not a concern, but the solid material is). All of a sudden, I had a flashback to being in my car when my sister called to tell me that her doctor found a complex cyst on her ovary that was of some concern.  My head and my heart were in overdrive at this point and I found myself discussing surgical options with my doctor when I just thought I was coming in for a regular check-up. Having been through what we have with Elliot, we simply know too much now - which is a very good thing, but can also scare you out of your mind. My doctor, given that I am now considered, "high risk", was being very proactive which we all appreciated. Given too that I have had trouble for quite some time (2 other surgeries on same ovary),  I was actually very confident in his recommendation. I was not frightened about having my ovary removed, but was frightened because of why I needed it removed. Cancer cells can change and multiply in a matter of hours as we saw with Elliot, so none of us wanted to take any chance that I might also be falling prey to the same awful disease that took my sister's life. So, I left the doctor's office in tears and alone, and called Jay. Jay immediately agreed with the doctor's recommendation and surgery was scheduled for 3 weeks later. 3 weeks later?  There was no way that my family could endure waiting 3 weeks. It had already been 3 days and I hadn't eaten a thing due to anxiety. We prayed and prayed and prayed, asking God to please allow an earlier time for the surgery.  In the meantime, I had some of the best doctors in the country on standby to do the surgery if my own doctor couldn't move it up.  On Thursday afternoon at 4:00, I got a phone call from the surgery scheduling nurse and she said that a time had opened up for the next morning at 11:30am and did I want to take it.  I fully believe God gave us such grace to have this appointment moved up so quickly - my family was worrying sick - it was just all too familiar, too similar, too raw, and too unbelievable.  So, Friday morning, just 6 days ago, I had my left ovary/fallopian tube/cyst removed. Only my Dad and Jay went with me to the hospital. There were hardly any words spoken between us that entire morning. We were all just praying silently, but the anxiety was almost choking. We had just been living in a hospital with my sister for months prior to this, and again, the scene was just too familiar - too close to home - too painful to relive - too frightening. As I lay in the hospital bed in my blue hospital gown all alone, I just wept - silently, and aloud. Could this really be happening all over again, just 3 months later?  I was hit with the realization that, yes, it really could be happening, and there was a real possibility. Remember, cancer does not discriminate and this is not "that other person's" disease. I thought about my sister and what she had been through for 8 months, in and out of the hospital so many times. I thought about the pain that she had to endure. I thought about her fears and how scared I know she must have been. I thought about her faith and her courage, even when she didn't know what the doctor was about to come in and tell her. I thought about how she is my hero, and how much I wished that she had been there with me. For Christmas, Elliot gave every member of our family a "Cling Cross". It is a little wooden cross that fits in the palm of your hand, and you can carry it around wherever you go, whenever you need to cling to the Cross. It went with me for Ellison's birth, and to Elliot's funeral, and was also in my hand during my surgery. My doctor came in, found me with tears streaming down my face, and said it was about time.  Jay prayed over me, and then kissed me and my Dad kissed me, and then they took me back to the OR.

Long story made alittle shorter, the surgery went according to plan and I returned home that evening. It has been 6 days and I haven't been able to pick up Ellison yet, so that has been really difficult. I haven't been able to nurse her until today, but she has been such a trooper. My Mom, who is the most amazing woman I have ever known along with my sister, has stayed with us this week to help with the children. Elijah Brooks has done great - we didn't tell him why I was having surgery, but did tell him I was having surgery. I didn't want to scare him, especially after what he saw Elliot go through. He has been the best nurse, coming into my room several times saying, "Mommy, can I get you food or drink"?!    The anxiety has still been very high this week as we have had to wait for the pathology report to come back, but finally the phone rang yesterday and the words were, "Mrs. Joye, your pathology report says, 'Unremarkable and Benign'".  I have never been so thankful to be called, "unremarkable" in my life.  I immediately got on the floor and thanked God over and over and over for His mercy. I had prayed so much during the week that God would please show my family mercy - I just couldn't bear to see my family go through any more heartache. I then cried, wishing so much and not understanding why Elliot's phone call 8 months ago had not said the same thing. Instead, her phone call said, "Mrs. Williams, we found cancer in your ovary".  And with those 8 words, the course of her life was changed forever, and so was ours.

I write all of this to reiterate the importance of going to the doctor friends. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Better yet, know the right questions to ask. Thankfully, I knew the right questions to ask my doctor. Get educated. I confess, I didn't know anything about Ovarian Cancer before Elliot. I wish to God that I had gotten educated a different way other than the way that I did, but now I know. And now it's my job to help educate others about this disease.

Please visit this website http://www.ovarian.org/about_us.php when you have some time to look at it.  Look at the link called, "medical information".  Familiarize yourself with the symptoms, and some of the various tests that you can ask your doctor for. Read the shocking statistics of this disease. Find out all you can about this disease and then tell others. Like I said in the beginning of this post, there are very few early detection methods for this disease. Awareness is the best early detection method.

As September approaches, please look for ways to get involved and show your support. Teal is the color for Ovarian cancer. Get creative. Do something to make someone take notice and ask you what you are wearing or what you are doing. Whatever you can do to make conversation with someone else about this disease will help create awareness. 11 months ago, I knew nothing about this disease. You never know, but you may be the very one to help save someone else's life - maybe even your own or a family member's. 

If you know us, and even if you don't, please continue to lift my precious family up in prayer. The days are so long and so difficult living without our beloved daughter, sister, wife, mother, aunt, and best friend.

Thank you for listening.