Becky Yates

SURVIVOR

In late 1998, I began to have some of the symptoms that I now know are associated with ovarian cancer: shortness of breath, a pressure in the groin area, weight fluctuation for no apparent reason, and the bloated, gassy feeling. Then circumstances prevented me from seeing my OB-GYN as scheduled in February, moving that appointment to March, more precious time gone. Finally, I knew something was wrong and told her so when I did get in for my appointment. She examined me and quickly decided to send me for an ultrasound, made an appointment for me at Duke’s Morris Cancer Center, and also scheduled a tentative appointment for surgery. On April 1, 1999, I was examined at Duke; and the cancer was confirmed. Surgery was scheduled for April 9, 1999.

Do you really want all these details or do you want to know how I felt? The first time I saw that sign above the door at the Morris Cancer Clinic, it was like the word “Cancer” jumped off the wall at me, and I knew I was in deep trouble. I was scared out of my wits, to say the least. It was like being in a dream, a bad dream. It was difficult to believe this was happening to me. I thought I had always done the right things to take care of my health.So much for that line of thinking! Ovarian cancer cares about none of that.

After surgery came five months of aggressive chemotherapy, and what a ride that was! The journey through chemotherapy is difficult to describe. I will tell you that about halfway through the protocol I wanted to stop, but my husband gently encouraged me to continue; and, of course, I knew there was really no choice but to go on with it to the end. Coming out on the other side of chemotherapy, I had lost 26+ pounds, most of my strength, and all of my hair! My younger daughter described me in something she wrote during that time:

“Soon all of Mom’s hair is gone and when she stands in her little nightgown, she’s like a little cartoon alien, only with my mother’s face.”

My story wouldn’t be complete without telling you that I am married to one great guy who did everything for me while I was sick, one terrific caregiver and advocate. I have a mother who was a rock, a better woman than I’ll ever be; two daughters who did all they could; other family and friends who did so much to help us through this ordeal.

Here I am five years after completing chemotherapy on September 10, 1999, a very happy and grateful woman. I am always aware that there are others who didn’t make it, and I suppose I’ll never understand why I’m still here, but I’m so very thankful. I do know my faith was strengthened through this whole experience, and the world is a different place for me now. I try to appreciate everyday I have because each day is a gift!