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My sister had a hysterectomy and oophorectomy today. She has ovarian cancer. It was all so sudden, but I guess ovarian cancer usually is. There aren't any early signs of it, and there are no early screening tests for it.
My sister started having abdominal pain last Thursday and went to the doctor on Friday thinking she had a bladder infection, but the test was negative. She kept having pain and was short of breath. On Wednesday, she went back to the doctor and had a CT scan done. Her abdomen was full of fluid and there was a shadow around her ovaries. The doctor called her that afternoon and told her to check into the hospital for surgery today, Thursday.
The doctor told her last night that he was 90% sure that it was cancer, and he was right. He said after the surgery that he got 98% of it, and they're going to do chemo to get the rest. He said it was Stage Three, which is usual for ovarian cancer because Stage Two has no symptoms.
My sister is 49 years old. My grandmother on my mother's side died of metastasized ovarian cancer when she was 59 years old, about six months before I was born. My mother had everything removed after a problem pregnancy when she was 33 years old, so she never had to risk this. I'm 45 years old. These are the thoughts that have been in my head for the past twenty-four hours. I feel like I'm in a weird medical version of Numb3rs; like, if I have enough numbers, I can figure out when I'm going to die.
My sister started having abdominal pain last Thursday and went to the doctor on Friday thinking she had a bladder infection, but the test was negative. She kept having pain and was short of breath. On Wednesday, she went back to the doctor and had a CT scan done. Her abdomen was full of fluid and there was a shadow around her ovaries. The doctor called her that afternoon and told her to check into the hospital for surgery today, Thursday.
The doctor told her last night that he was 90% sure that it was cancer, and he was right. He said after the surgery that he got 98% of it, and they're going to do chemo to get the rest. He said it was Stage Three, which is usual for ovarian cancer because Stage Two has no symptoms.
My sister is 49 years old. My grandmother on my mother's side died of metastasized ovarian cancer when she was 59 years old, about six months before I was born. My mother had everything removed after a problem pregnancy when she was 33 years old, so she never had to risk this. I'm 45 years old. These are the thoughts that have been in my head for the past twenty-four hours. I feel like I'm in a weird medical version of Numb3rs; like, if I have enough numbers, I can figure out when I'm going to die.
