On November 25th, it will be 3 years to the day that I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. My life as I knew would change forever. One word. Two syllables. Cancer.
November 25, 2008 - NYU Hospital in New York City; Frank (my husband) drove me in for the 6:30 AM arrival. I was more frightened of the anesthesia then what the outcome of the surgery could be. Giving someone else the driving wheel for my body, while I was not able to do anything about it, made me very uneasy. I would not be in control of me. Would I know I was being operated on? Would I feel it? What if I woke up?
After they had prepped me for what was supposed to be a laparoscopy to remove my right ovary, I kissed and said goodbye to Frank. As they led me into the operating room, I panicked. The room was so cold, and baron. I wanted to leave. I did not want to do this. No. I am not going to do this. I told the O.R. staff, I couldn’t go forward, and opened the door to leave. With their expertise and kind words, they comforted me, and eased me to the table. Once I laid down, they asked me where I would like to travel to? I said; "Aruba…" the next thing I knew, they were waking me up in the recovery room.
The laparoscopy turned into an 8 hour operation, where my amazing surgeon, Dr. P. removed both of my ovaries, fallopian tubes and my uterus. The quick pathology report on a biopsy sample taken during the surgery showed I had cancer. She then took the time to look all over my abdominal cavity to remove anything that looked “suspicious” to her. 8 LONG hours, while she operated, and Frank and my parents waited one hallway over, not knowing what was going on in that cold and baron room.
Waking up was difficult… They told me immediately I had cancer… and all I could say was… “my arms and hands are asleep, I can’t move them.” I was in and out, as they massaged my arms and hands… I then told the recovery nurse, “please go out to my husband and tell him to leave. He has to get up early for work.” I just didn’t want to hear it… cancer…
A few days later while I was recovering in the hospital, I realized, I now had a new title besides mom, wife, daughter, employee, friend and so on… I am now a “cancer patient.” At that time, I had no idea what that meant, but what I did know was, I was going to fight my ass off, and get rid of this disease. I was going to win; it stood no chance against my will to beat it. I just need to get my arms and hands to wake up. Then Rosa, my roommate from Russia farted. She was so embarrassed; I thought it was hilarious. To this day, my middle finger on my right hand still tingles, everything else woke up.
Two weeks later… Frank, my parents and I met with my surgeon. I heard her say, “stage 3C ovarian cancer” and my mind and I went somewhere else… Whoa… stage 3C?? That’s bad, right? That is really advanced. Holy shit. But wait, I have kids, and have to be a wife. I can’t leave them now. I looked over at my dad and thought “he already buried one daughter, I can’t make him go through that again.” Ok, back to the room I am in…. “So? What’s the plan of action?” I asked? Chemo… 6 rounds, its protocol, and then we decide from there where to go.
Although, Dr. P. still remains my surgeon, Dr. S. took over my case, as he is my dad’s oncologist and the Director of all of Oncology at NYU. Same plan, just a different approach. I am blessed to have both doctors looking out for me. Two phenomenal doctors. Two wonderful people.
December 30th, 2008 – NYU Cancer Center – 5th floor. My first Chemo treatment. Taxol and Carboplatin. Six hours of infusion. That was easy, let’s go to the cancer shop on the 4th floor and shop for wigs! I knew I was going to lose my hair, and I was (and still am) cool with it. So let’s have fun. I can have straight hair now, any color and length I want! I can wear a bandana or a hat! Oh, this will be a blast! We didn't buy anything that day, but got some great ideas. About 36 hours later, as the New Year rang in, I felt as if I was hit by a truck. Everything hurt, as if I had the flu, and everything tasted really bad. Welcome to 2009.
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