Outshine: An Ovarian Cancer Memoir E-Book

Karen Ingalls

• Herausgeber: Fresh Ink Group
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 125

Beschreibung

When Karen Ingalls was diagnosed with Stage IIC ovarian cancer, she realized that as a woman and a retired nurse she knew very little about this “silent killer.” Given a 50% chance to live 5 years, she made a vow to let women know about ovarian cancer and to live each moment with love. Lost in the information about drugs, side effects, and statistics, Ms. Ingalls redirected her energy to focus on the equally overwhelming blessings of life, learning to rejoice in each day, and find peace in spirituality. In this book, the reader will find a refreshing perspective of hope with the knowledge that “the beauty of the soul, the real me and the real you, outshines the effects of cancer, chemotherapy, and radiation.”

Leseprobe

Outshine:

2nd Edition

Copyright © 2023

by Karen Ingalls

All rights reserved

Fresh Ink Group

An Imprint of:

The Fresh Ink Group, LLC

1021 Blount Avenue #931

Guntersville, AL 35976

Email: [email protected]

FreshInkGroup.com

Edition 1.0 2012

Edition 2.0 2023

Cover design by Stephen Geez / FIG

Book design by Amit Dey / FIG

Associate publisher Beem Weeks / FIG

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 and except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, no portion of this book’s content may be stored in any medium, transmitted in any form, used in whole or part, or sourced for derivative works such as videos, television, and motion pictures, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Cataloging-in-Publication Recommendations:

HEA039030 HEALTH & FITNESS / Diseases & Conditions / Cancer

MED012000 MEDICAL / Chemotherapy

MED085110 MEDICAL / Surgery / Oncology

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022912565

ISBN-13: 978-1-947893-62-7 Papercover

ISBN-13: 978-1-947893-63-4 Hardcover

ISBN-13: 978-1-947893-64-1 Ebooks

To my husband, Jim

Acknowledgments

My deepest gratitude to my grandmother and to my adopted aunt, who inspired and taught me about life and spirituality. My thanks to Gary “Stephen Geez” at Fresh Ink Group for his professional advice, help, and hard work.

Contents

Prologue

PHASE I: DETECTION

Chapter 1: D-day

Chapter 2: Appointment with a Gynecological Oncologist

Chapter 3: Prayer and Love

PHASE II: A NEW LIFE

Chapter 4: Surgery

Chapter 5: Recovery and Healing

Chapter 6: Ministering Touch

Chapter 7: Finding Emotional and Physical Strength

PHASE III: TESTS AND TREATMENT

Chapter 8: Facing Reality

Chapter 9: Trials of Chemo

Chapter 10: Two Angels

Chapter 11: Prayer and Faith

Chapter 12: Time to Make Plans

Chapter 13: New Me

Chapter 14: Time to Journal, Time to Laugh

Chapter 15: Comforting Outreach

Chapter 16: Celebrating Life

Chapter 17: Keep Fighting

Chapter 18: The Gift of Friends

Chapter 19: An Ending and a New Beginning

PHASE IV: HEALING ANEW

Chapter 20: Healing after Chemo

Chapter 21: The Loving Husband

Chapter 22: Learning from Others

Chapter 23: Life Is to Be Lived

Chapter 24: People Reach Out

Chapter 25: Spirituality

PHASE V: LOOKING BACK

Chapter 26: Remission

Chapter 27: New-Birth Day

Chapter 27: Caring Partner

Epilogue

About Karen Ingalls

Recommended Resources

Ovarian Cancer Warning Signs

Ovarian Cancer Risk Factors

Discussion Points

Prologue

My grandmother often talked to me about how life was made up of unexpected events. “You cannot prepare for them, but when they happen try to learn and grow from them.” Her wise words helped me to live with the unexpected diagnosis of ovarian cancer.

I had gained a few pounds and developed a protruding stomach, both of which were unusual for me. From childhood through my early forties, I was under weight, and I drank high-protein drinks to gain weight. Once I started menopause, I gained some weight and was in the normal weight range for my age and height.

At the age of 67, the unexpected happened. My weight continued to increase, and I could not wear my size 6 slacks. I began an aggressive weight-loss program with Weight Watchers and exercised more than my usual routine. I never considered those physical changes to be anything more than normal postmenopausal aging.

Ovarian cancer is the ninth-most common female cancer, and it ranks fifth in cancer deaths among women. About 19,700 women will be diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and 13,20 will die. If diagnosed and treated in Stage I, women have a five-year survival rate of 93 percent. I was Stage II and was initially given a 50 percent survival rate.

Ovarian cancer is called the silent killer, because with its vague symptoms, it’s usually not diagnosed until Stage III or IV. At the Minnesota Ovarian Cancer Alliance’s twelfth-annual Walk/Run for Ovarian Cancer, I heard the chant Silent No More. I wore a teal T-shirt with those same words. Though women and physicians are more aware of this disease and its symptoms, ovarian cancer is still the silent killer. It whispers its presence. I wrote this book in hopes of perking up the ears of women and their partners so they can better hear these whispers. A woman is her own best advocate and knows her body better than anyone. It is vital that she stay informed and educated.

A bloating or painful abdomen, unexplained weight gain, constipation, or urinary difficulties are some of the common whispering symptoms, but they are also associated with many other ailments or disorders from the benign to the very serious. The persistence of these symptoms is the key to detecting ovarian cancer. What is persistent in any given time frame? If the symptoms persist for two weeks, it is recommended that the woman be seen by a physician immediately.

Not every woman has a family history to alert her and her physician to the possibility of ovarian cancer. Early detection is vital to survival. If a doctor does not consider the possibility of ovarian cancer, I strongly encourage the woman to go to a gynecological oncologist who will have the tests, experience, and expertise to better evaluate the presenting symptoms.

I always felt I was at high risk for developing cancer, because several family members have had different types of the disease. My mother died of stomach cancer at the age of sixty-nine, her sister died of breast cancer while in her early forties, and their brother died of jaw cancer secondary to smoking when he was in his sixties. My paternal great-grandfather died of colon cancer.

The family history of breast and colon cancers increased my risk of developing ovarian cancer. I was not informed that I was at risk during any doctor visit. After my diagnosis, I pursued genetic counseling and was tested for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes. These mutated genes have occurred in families with several cases of breast cancer. There’s also a higher risk of developing ovarian cancer for women with these mutations. It only requires a small blood sample to determine the results. I was found to not have any mutation of these genes.

I faced my diagnosis of cancer by using the same coping methods I have used throughout my life. I grew up in an alcoholic family where I was not immune to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. My methods to survive and rise above this frightening and oppressive environment were to use positive affirmations, put my trust in God, and have a burning desire to live free of those types of people and behaviors. Then and now, I surround myself with family (some of whom I adopted) and friends who can be powerful sources of strength and love.

I learned from my grandmother and adopted aunt that attitude, acceptance, and determination are important factors in healing the body, mind, and spirit. Those women were, and still are today, wonderful role models for me. They each succeeded in living healthy and productive lives through their positive attitudes, looking at life on earth as a stepping-stone to an even greater place. They worked hard and saw each obstacle as a challenge. Thanks to them, I have always used the word challenge instead of problem, test, or trial. I like challenge because I envision positivity, winning, learning, and growing.

I share my daily journey with ovarian cancer to educate, support, and inspire others. My journey is my own unique experience, and it’s not intended to reflect what anyone else should expect as her experience. I do believe some of the ways I have responded to and coped with this challenge may be of help to other women and their caregivers. We can all learn from one another, as well as support and help one another.

I encourage readers to share their own experiences and opinions on my FB page (https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100088418291561) or in the comment section of my blog at (https://kareningalls.home.blog).

An important lesson I learned early in life is that the beauty of the soul, the real me and the real you, outshines the effects of cancer, chemotherapy, and radiation. It outshines any negative experience.

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill…Stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit,It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

—Joe O’Keefe

PHASE I

Detection

Chapter 1

D-day

The bright summer day started off full of activity, promise, and good thoughts. I was glad to get my annual mammogram and Pap (Papanicolaou) smear done in one day. I got my mammogram done first which went smoothly.

As I waited in Dr. R’s ob-gyn office, it seemed every woman was young or pregnant. I watched some hold their large abdomens while others tend to their newborns. It brought back happy memories of my three pregnancies. I had always wanted a large family, like in the movie Cheaper by the Dozen, starring Clifton Webb and Jeanne Crain. I thought raising children would follow a perfect script, and we would all live happily ever after, erasing the memories of my abusive childhood. Instead of twelve kids, I had three sons, who are such wonderful gifts from God that I could never be happier being their mother. I did not mind all the testosterone that flowed through the house, and I never really minded not having a daughter.

Soon I found myself in the exam room, wearing the small tissue gown, sitting on the hard table, answering my doctor’s questions, and feeling confident and proud of my good health. My confidence soon changed when Dr. R had difficulty inserting the speculum, causing me unusual discomfort. As she manually checked my abdomen and pelvis, she said, “I feel a mass.” That’s when I began to tremble. Trying to comfort me, she said, “It’s probably a fibroid, but we need an ultrasound to make sure.” A fibroid is a benign tumor found in or around the uterus. An ultrasound uses sound waves to see such body parts as organs, muscles, and tendons, as well as tumors.

I fought back the tears as I drove home, determined to put forth a strong and positive front to my husband, Jim.

This is the second marriage for both of us, and in our twenty-four years together, we have truly grown to know each other very well. We came into the relationship each having three children. We truly consider our six kids and twelve grandchildren as “ours.”

When I walked in the door, he asked questions that I tried to answer succinctly, but he sensed the fear I was trying to hide. I broke down crying and told him everything. Jim wrapped his arms around me and said, “No matter what it is, we will get through this together.”

That night in bed, I let my hand slide down to the very lowest part of the left side of my abdomen, and I could feel a round lump. “Oh, God, I can feel it.”

Jim palpated my abdomen and quietly said, “Yes, I can, too.” We both started to cry as we tried to reassure each other, saying, “It’s probably nothing.”

The following morning, Dr. R called to inform me that instead of an ultrasound, I would be having a CT (computed tomography) scan, which provides a cross-sectional view of internal body parts. I was instructed not to eat or drink anything prior to the test, which was scheduled for 1:00 in the afternoon. I told her I could now feel the lump in my lower left abdomen, so she asked me to see her in the office before having the scan.

Jim and I nervously waited for the doctor in the small exam room, and we kept looking at one another, sending love and reassurance. Dr. R again examined me, discussed the possible causes—from a fibroid to a cancerous tumor—and answered our questions as best she could. As she left the room, she promised to call with the CT results, even if they came in during the weekend.

That whole weekend was a like a nightmare I could not wake up from. The tears flowed almost without stopping. Sleeping and eating were almost impossible. Jim and I prayed and talked as we held each other tightly.

A life-changing unexpected event was unfolding. I began my own personal D-day of June 6th, except I was the one being invaded by a mass or tumor. On Sunday morning, we called the doctor, as the agony of not knowing the scan results was overwhelming. She apologized for not getting back to me sooner and then said, “I want to get an MRI right away Monday morning. The CT scan shows a mass that appears to be outside the uterus, which is not good. I cannot say for sure what the mass is, so that’s why we need the MRI.” Just before she hung up, she said, “I am so sorry, Karen.”

Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) uses radio waves, magnetism, and a computer. The MRI is a large, round machine that is impressive just by its size.

On Monday morning, the technician called my name, instructed me on disrobing and removing any jewelry, showed me the gown and robe to put on, and then led me into a large room. She was very pleasant, kind, and soft-spoken, and she had a gentle spirit about her. I lay down on the slender table and immediately asked for a warming blanket, as the sterile-like coolness of the room surrounded me. The technician explained the process, the importance that I remain still during the test, and that there would be loud sounds like jackhammers. I smiled, nodded, allowed the blanket to warm me, closed my eyes, and began to meditate. I remained in a meditative state of abdominal breathing, focusing on God’s healing light, and repeating words of comfort and peace.

Once the MRI was complete, the technician instructed me to get dressed and then sit in the main waiting room to be sure the films were okay for the radiologist to read. Then an unusual thing happened that left a deep impression on me. It is a lesson for those in the healthcare field to be mindful of what they say and how they say it. After about ten minutes, the same technician came up to me and said, “You may leave now. Your doctor will call you with the results.” When I stood up to leave, she gave me a hug and whispered, “I’ll pray for you.”

I knew her heart was in the right place and her intentions were beautiful, but her words filled me with a terrible fear. I thought, I must surely be on death’s doorstep with my body full of cancer. Did she hug every patient? Did she tell everyone she would pray for them?

The MRI confirmed the presence of a large mass outside the uterus. As a registered nurse, I knew there was a very good chance the tumor could be cancerous.

I have learned that any rain that falls in my life is just droplets, and it’s up to me whether I will let those droplets flood away my spirit. Sometimes we need to build up levees through more prayer, erect dams for permanent changes so the soul can grow, do a dance to pray for more sun to heal any wounds, or just take an umbrella to give temporary protection as we build up our strength and will.