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Please choose from the following stories of survival. Kathy Zwald
Danielle Parlapiano
Anita Sarko
Kathy Zwald (pictured on right)
Ovarian Cancer Survivor  I was diagnosed in 2003 with 3B Ovarian Cancer after a routine vaginal hysterectomy was performed as part of some worries of drainage that I had previously had for several months. I did not have any of the typical "symptoms" of Ovarian Cancer and the news was given to me at the nurse’s station at the hospital as I was about to be discharged. I had cancer, there was only a 5% percent chance of survival and several months of chemo and radiation was in my future.
I was devastated and really did not know where to turn. I was 48 years of age, had the world in front of me and was about to embark on completing my Ph.D., at the University of Arizona. In 2003 there was not much out in the media about battling the disease and succeeding, just about the statistics of women dying from the disease.
So in June of 2003 I had the full abdominal surgery with 27 biopsies and my wonderful doctor told me in the recovery room that he felt sure that he got it all as it had spread to my colon, omentum and rectum. I started chemo in July of 2003 and proceeded to have 18 months of chemo to give me the best chance of battling the disease.
In May of 2004, I found this little fundraising event called "The Ovarian Cycle" in which we were to raise money and awareness for Ovarian Cancer and ride inside for 6 hours at the Midtown Athletic Club, so I curiously explored what this was all about. I was so impressed with the organization, the spirit and enthusiasm of the event and the members that I signed up, participate and was bound and determined not to get off my bike for the six hours. I brought my protein bars, towels and little bald head to the event and successfully completed the ride.
That was 8 years ago, I am still going strong, completing my Ph.D., teaching at the University of Arizona and just had a total knee replacement so that I can keep doing the activities that I want to do that include hiking, cycling, swimming and triathlons. My CA-125 continues to stay in the signal digits and I feel very healthy.
I consider myself very lucky, I have survived while many other women around me have not. There is no rhyme or reason to my survival, but I do feel that I have a huge responsibility to continue this quest of finding an early detection tool that will give women more chances of survival. I will participate again this year to ride for my nieces, sisters and women friends who have been my support and allies in battling the disease and desire to find this early detection and possibly a cure. Good luck to us all!!!
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Danielle Parlapiano
Ovarian Cancer Survivor  It was the end of the summer of 1991, I was about to start 4th grade and my 2nd year at a new elementary school. A couple weeks before my first day of school I went in to my mother's room and asked her what this weird bump that I had noticed in my lower abdomen was. She felt it and knew that this was not right. Luckily, my brother happened to have a sports physical scheduled the next day at our pediatrician's office, and my mother brought me along to the appointment. After my pediatrician confirmed my mother's fears that this was not right, and I was scheduled for numerous tests and scans over the next week.
My second day of fourth grade we had a fire drill, I remember the day vividly. We had all evacuated to the parking lot, and my mom had shown up in the middle of the drill. She spoke briefly to my teacher and immediately put me in the car. The next thing I knew I was back at my house, and my mother was explaining to me, at 9 years old, that I had been diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer. The next week was a blur, I had the large tumor in my abdomen operated on, which was a major surgical procedure since the tumor required an incision the width of my hips, the removal of my right ovary/fallopian tube and an ICU recovery. Next, the results of the surgery were in; an advanced stage of Ovarian Dysgerminoma; a malignant tumor. The doctors broke the news to us that Chemotherapy was necessary and that they couldn't guarantee I would survive, but all we could do was hope that it would work.
I chopped off a few inches of my very long blond hair in anticipation of my chemo induced hair loss. I then went in for surgery number two, the insertion of a portable catheter in my left chest that was implanted under the skin and hooked in to a major artery for the administering of Chemotherapy. That same evening after this procedure started my first round of a pretty potent mix of Chemo drugs. I remember the first second those drugs hit my bloodstream for the first time, I went in to shock, my vision turned to purple and white dots and a crash cart was called. The drugs were too much of a shock for my very small system. I managed to get through that first round of chemo. Shortly thereafter, my hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, etc began to fall out until there was none left. Throughout my chemo sessions I suffered an irreversible hearing loss, and my skin began to show scarring hyperpigmentations as side effects of the drugs I was on. I also lost about 20% of my body weight bringing me down to my lowest of 39lbs at 9 years old. The need of a feeding tube was a constant threat, as well as the risk of infection. My blood counts were extremely low and my immune system was almost non existent. I sometimes needed blood transfusions to help up my blood levels and keep the chemo from destroying my body. I was extremely lucky to have my mother by my side 24/7 and a very supportive family, friends, hospital staff and community. I managed to get through all the tough times, set backs and rounds of chemo, and be declared "cancer free". Nothing could have been better news after such a long tedious battle with a disease that has such a high rate of death. I got that Portable Catheter removed and for years I continued to be monitored closely for a relapse. Now at the age of 28, I can proudly look back on that battle while wearing my Teal sash and tiara proudly, because I am an Ovarian Cancer Survivor. top...
Anita Sarko
Ovarian Cancer Survivor  My Story:
Around 6 years ago, i was post-menopausal, but began bleeding. I did not have any health insurance, but I went to a gynecologist who immediately did a biopsy. She also took blood. Every test came back negative, but she told me she suspected I had cancer. This is the opposite of what most people report because most doctors come up with every other excuse except cancer. Because cancer survival allegedly depends on catching it QUICKLY, this is allegedly the reason why so many people die. I emphasize the word "allegedly" because there is also a belief that, perhaps, cancer does not go through stages, but that each stage is unto itself. Nevertheless, at some point, you need to do SOMETHING if, for some reason, your body begins to misbehave in an extreme fashion.
Even though the initial tests came back negative, she sent me on an odyssey of every type of test you can (or can't) imagine. I even went through a D & C. Every result was negative. She was still convinced I had cancer. However, I had exhausted my funds, so I just withdrew from treatment and tests and literally bled for 5 years. By the Summer of 2009, I was growing very weak, I was so weak I couldn't ride my bike, walk up steps or run and was having trouble breathing. My internist thought it was an asthma attack. I knew it wasn't. One day I was so weak, I could not carry home a single grapefruit! By Christmas time, I cancelled out of all holiday parties, except a New Year's Eve party I literally willed myself to. When I returned home, I collapsed in my front hall and wished I was dead. This was Jan.1, 2010. Happy new year! A week later, I went to an ancient herbalist in Chinatown , who was recommended by a nurse I know. He immediately told me I was anemic and gave me a bag of really foul herbs. The next day, two things happened: I began to breathe again and my body blew up. My stomach looked like I was 9 months pregnant. I had been really bloated for years, but, even though I had never had that sort of body and had always been extremely active, I just thought it was because I was getting older. However, this stomach I had was off the charts. After a week, I switched to B12 tablets. I was still breathing, but I still looked like a manatee. The next week, I returned to my internist. He agreed that I could be anemic & ordered blood tests. The next day, I had the tests and the following day, my panicked doctor ordered me to an emergency room. I had SEVERE anemia and needed a transfusion because I was crashing. The closest emergency room was Bellevue. The next morning I went to Bellevue. In the emergency room, I met a team of doctors because Bellevue is a teaching hospital for NYU. I was told that I was going nowhere, that I most likely had cancer and was immediately put into the gynecological oncology ward. Within days, I was again put through all those same tests I had been through 5 years before. The first report was that I had Uterine cancer, which is quite rare, but only about #3 on the women's reproductive cancer death list. Then, I was told I had Ovarian cancer, which is the Great White. It has only a 20% survival rate. I was immediately scheduled for a complete hysterectomy. I was told that it had probably spread and I might need a bowel reconstruction and something done to my spine and so many other things that I thought I would be lucky if I woke up with one arm still attached. However, further tests revealed that my bottom, my breasts and my spine were all cancer-free. I was told that they would start chemo immediately and to expect to wake up with a tube coming out of me. I was also told that I would be in horrible pain when I woke up because they needed to know how much morphine to give me. I woke up and there was no tube coming out. I had been told that if there wasn't a tube, it was because the cancer had all been removed or that it was too late. Before I could obsess on the lack of a tube, the pain hit. It quickly went away once the morphine was pumped in. The following day, I was told I had to get out of bed and take a walk. I could not get up. I was about to ask for help when I admonished myself for being such an ass: I had been doing Pilates for 15 years and had been a gym regular for nearly 30 years. It was excruciating, but I got myself up and walked. The next day, it was 50% easier. A quick fever spiked that night, so they insisted on keeping me for another half day. I walked out of the hospital by myself and went home. I was fine, except for a dull stomach pain. Despite reading on the internet that I would be lying on a bed for 2 months (!), I was back to work TWO DAYS LATER. In addition, I had lost 20 lbs. Everyone who saw me told me how great I looked and they wanted to do whatever I had done to have lost all that weight so quickly. I kept replying, "No you don't!" It took me many months to come out of the closet. I am not the type who repairs with people in my face all the time telling me how well I looked (except for the new trim figure) or constantly asking me, "How are you?" I just told everyone I had had anemia. No one really knows anything about anemia. I am now on a short leash for 2 years, having to go to the out-patient clinic every 3 months. Then, for 3 years, I go twice a year. I have just passed my first year cancer-free (knock wood). I will not sugarcoat this. Having cancer is hell; having such a personal form is pure hell. There's nothing dignified about having a lot of people fiddling around your private parts. There's nothing wonderful about having blood taken, given and thinned every hour. My once robust and puffy veins went into hiding from being so abused. It was all just horrible. I truly feel that the best way to get people to stop smoking is to put them through cancer treatment for a week so they can see what they are trying to give themselves. But, I beat it. All the head of my team (gloriously named Dr. Hope) could offer up as an explanation for why the cancers had stayed at stage one was that i was "one lucky woman". It's as simple as that. I required neither chemo nor radiation, This was a happy puzzlement because of how long I had been showing signs. I have so much energy now that I've had to learn to contain it. It's probably a normal amount, but, after all those years of the cancers sapping it, it originally felt like I was suddenly on really bad speed. I first went back to Pilates, then discovered Soul Cycle. Spinning has been amazing. It has kept my core rock solid, despite being essentially gutted. It has kept the weight off. It energizes me in the right way. It helps to keep the extreme mood swings from my hormonal changes in check. So..two pieces of advice: - If you find yourself getting really tired and your life has not drastically changed, immediately have blood tests. I have heard that this is the initial sign for both cancer and heart disease. If the results are negative, repeat each year. Note: No one in my family has ever had reproductive cancers, so don't rely on family histories. Also, I was told that the readings from the original tests had been correct: Cancer cells can be all through you, but be too tiny to register...until they do.
- Keep yourself in the best shape possible. I can't emphasize how much this helps your recovery. The idea of lying on a couch or bed for 2 months is beyond my comprehension and should be beyone yours. I know everyone is different, but you can't go wrong with a solid foundation.
I've left out so much, despite the length of this, but... enough. However, if anyone needs someone to talk to about this, do not hesitate to write to me. My deepest thoughts go to anyone out there who is going through this, either as the patient or their loved ones. One of my childhood friends was Gilda Radner, who put a face on this disease so many years ago. I even let them use a picture of her from my Sweet 16 party for the invites to a recent Gilda's Club gala. However, as much as I loved that sweet funny girl, I was in no hurry to see her again. Take care of yourselves. Hold in your tummy, tighten your butt and thighs and sweat like a pig while you pedal like a crazed hamster. The worse it can do is make you look hot. The best it can do is help you make Ovarian cancer your bitch. I'll see you at Ovarian Cycle. Anita Sarko
Spring, 2011
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