Georgia’s Blog

“You have ovarian cancer,” my doctor said sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

Her words stayed in my head and it felt like my hands were cupped over my ears. It was hard to hear much of anything after that.

I left her office and headed home to tell my husband, but I hesitated. I didn’t want to say the words out loud – as if keeping this news to myself somehow made it not real. I finally did tell him and our five children. I also told my good friend, Beth, who was sworn to secrecy until I was ready to make my announcement.

Within ten days of my diagnosis I was in surgery and settled into the hospital for a week’s stay. I was anxious, but excited to be going home when my husband picked me up. Back home, he helped me out of the car and up the steps to our house. I notice a new plant, a beautiful white Bougainvillea, hanging near our front door. Inside the house, a sweet little bouquet of daisies greeted me on the bench in my entryway. A large plant with white blooms cheerfully occupied the corner of the room.

Turning into the living room, I was met with every imaginable arrangement of white flowers – from simple little vases of Baby’s Breath to sprays of lilies and roses. It was breathtaking! It was intoxicating! And it continued through every room in my house! There were 55 of them in all.

“Beth did this,” my daughter announced. “She told a few people and they spread the word. Your friends have been delivering flowers and cards for two days!” she beamed.

I was overwhelmed with emotions! Excitement. Joy. Love. Peace. And gratitude. Beth spared me the sting of having to tell everyone my news. Her thoughtfulness allowed me to relax and recover surrounded by the beauty, grace and love of a community of women whose caring gesture made me feel protected and gave me a sense of hope that has carried me throughout my treatment.

Thank you, sweet Beth!

During the six weeks recovery time from my surgery, my focus was getting my leg stronger.

I was dependent on a walker for the better part of a month. I couldn’t drive, run errands, walk the dog, take my morning walks, or navigate my old claw-foot tub. My husband was my constant companion. It was a happy day when I graduated from using the walker to holding his hand! Hand in hand we’d stroll through the grocery store aisles, saunter the farmers market, and take long walks through the neighborhood.

I felt so protected and loved, and vowed that we would continue to hold hands even after I fully recovered. Why did we ever stop??

Nearly four weeks after my surgery, I was scheduled to have my chemo ports placed. I really had no idea what that meant, but I was ready to move forward in my treatment.

The first “port” was placed in my upper left chest. It is placed under the skin with a direct line through a vein. The second port was placed between my bottom two ribs on my right side. This port has a catheter that feeds directly to the pelvic cavity. Chemotherapy drugs run through the catheter and “bathe” your body. I’m told this is tough treatment, but a promisingly successful advancement in ovarian cancer treatment. Then, that’s what I want!!

Ten members of my family joined me for my “chemo counseling” session with my Oncology Nurse. I’m so lucky to have the support (and extra ears!) to make sense of this new step.

I was anxious and nervous as the day of my first chemo procedure was closing in.

My family surprised me with a party and gifts to help me get through the treatments. The gifts were packed in a beautiful Jon Hart bag. It was teal, the official color for ovarian cancer. Packed inside were a deck of cards, a journal, a super cute hat, word puzzle books and six pairs of cozy socks.

The socks were from my sweet sister-in-law, Sally. I was scheduled for six rounds of chemo, and Sally instructed me to wear one pair of socks to each treatment and then throw them away! When the socks are gone, so is my cancer!
At each chemo session, I kick off my shoes and slip on the comfy socks. And as I leave the building, I ceremoniously toss the socks into the trash can by the door…bye, bye socks! Bye, bye cancer!

I was pretty darn nervous when I arrived for my first chemo treatment. I got there early enough to pick out a “good” seat. I chose the chair in the far corner of the room. It seemed more private to me and there was an office chair nearby where my husband could sit and keep me company.

It didn’t take long for all the other chairs to fill up. There were women of all ages, and stages of cancer, in for their treatments. I was the new kid on the block and by the end of the day I was making new friends.

Chemo is a scary word, but the actual procedure isn’t so bad. I decided I needed a new name for my treatments. My daughter dubbed it “Club C” … the perfect name for it! We are all members of the same club and have banded together to encourage, support, and cheer each other on.

Turns out, chemo’s not so bad after all.

I was warned about losing my hair to chemo. The nurse had said that the average patient loses her hair 14 days after the first chemo treatment. My birthday was exactly 14 days after my first chemo.

On day 12, my hair was still clinging to my scalp. On the 13th morning, as I ran a brush through my hair, way too much hair gathered on the bristles. I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled out handfuls of it! I had a date with my daughter-in-law, Lauren, to pick up my wig that day (good timing!) and I was afraid to shampoo my hair – afraid it would all wash down the drain.

As it turned out, my wig was not ready to be picked up, but Lauren came over to check my situation. She’s a hair stylist in Austin so I was glad to have her expert opinion. She agreed, today was the day. It was time to shave my head.
I sat on a stool in my bathroom while Lauren carefully went to work. My daughter, Kate, joined us for moral support.

Lauren put my long hair up in a ponytail and cut it close to my head so I could donate it to Locks of Love. There was no turning back now! As she shaved the back of my head, tears rolled down my daughters cheeks.
At one point, I looked up in the mirror. My hair was short in the front, but still full. It looked super cute! At least I would have fun with new hairstyles as it grew back!!

Finally, my head was completely shaven. I had been worried about unsightly bumps or marks, but there wasn’t anything too unfortunate about my scalp. Still, I was glad to have the hats that I had already purchased.

My husband was sweet and said I looked beautiful! When he announced that he was leaving to run a few errands, I grabbed my hat to join him. For some reason, I desperately needed to get out in public, ASAP! At Best Buy I approached the sales clerk to ask a question, as though it was the most normal thing in the world for a bald woman in a hat to do. It was good to break the ice.

There’s an upside to being bald. It’s been fun playing with scarves, earrings and new make-up. Getting ready in the morning is a breeze!! And I finally did get that wig. I wear it on date night…just for fun!

I know, I know! It seems crazy to be grateful for something as scary as having cancer. But the fact is, cancer comes with a few perks. And since this is the time of year to give thanks for all blessings, cancer should get it’s just due.

Thank you, cancer, for the hours saved washing, conditioning, blow drying, and straightening my hair.

Thank you, cancer, for the months of smooth, sleek, stubble-free legs and pits.

Thank you, cancer, for letting me keep my skimpy eyelashes and eyebrows.

Thank you, cancer, for the 20 lb. weight loss, allowing me to FINALLY reach my goal weight!

Thank you, cancer, for the ability to eat whatever I want, as much as I want, whenever I want, without gaining an ounce.

Thank you, cancer, for the perfect excuse to lie around on the couch all day reading magazines and watching Food Network television.

Thank you, cancer, for all the nights off kitchen duty and for being able to get out of heavy-duty household chores.

But mostly, cancer, I would like to Thank You for the outpouring of LOVE that comes my way in the form of cards in the mail, text messages, emails, phone calls, and visits from people who care.

My life has been enriched by this experience.