I am honored to have the opportunity to share with you my survivor story. My daughter, Sydney, was just two years old when I was diagnosed with Stage IIIC ovarian cancer. It was December 18, 2007 and I had just had major surgery, more major than any of us had anticipated. While cancer was an obvious possibility, we were unprepared for what was to come for our family. I did not fit the stereotype for an ovarian cancer patient, but the impact of my personal encounter with ovarian cancer resonates years after my diagnosis.
Throughout my hospital stay and follow up treatment, Dr. Benigno and Sherry were a constant and reassuring presence for me. But even before I met him for the first time, I had taken the time to Google him and see what the internet had to say. I saw that he was one of the best. I was moderately reassured, but it was not until much later during the course of my treatments that I witnessed something I will never forget…
My post-surgical chemotherapy treatment regimen provided me countless hours of observation as my fellow survivors and I struggled with this insidious disease. I clearly recall one day in the chemo-suite as one of the other patients, horribly sick as the chemo took its toll and the disease gained ground, unexpectedly demonstrated a dramatic improvement in her posture. Curious as to what event precipitated this change; I turned to see Dr. Benigno and one of his assistants moving through the room simply interacting with patients and caregivers. 
I was immediately struck! What a remarkable gift to be able to grant someone so sick a brief reprieve from their illness. This ability to give hope became a driving force in my life and as such I have committed myself to returning to school to obtain a Master’s of Medical Science degree in order to become a Physician Assistant. My life has changed.
Even though I have the most remarkable oncologist directing my treatment, I had an even more important motivation – my daughter, Sydney. With the holidays upon us and the family members here from Texas, the house was a buzz of anxious energy. Yet, Sydney remained steadfast. Her only concerns were ‘where is mama?’ or ‘when is mama coming home?’ By no small miracle, I was home on Christmas Eve. Sydney met me in the driveway! She found it of great interest that mama had a big boo-boo, a cancer boo-boo. At barely two years of age, my daughter was already learning about cancer and the effects it has on those closest to her. I went through six rounds of the initial chemotherapy – Taxol and Carboplatin followed by 12 rounds of maintenance chemo – Doxil. For Sydney, she knew that mama was sick and she began to recognize when others were sick as well. She pointed out a child in a St. Jude commercial on television and told me, “Mama, that baby is sick.” She knew. But it wasn’t really her recognition of the outward signs that amazed me. It was her approach that carried me through some of the darkest days. Instead of being shocked about mama’s now bald head, she found great pleasure in splatting it with the palms of her hands. She loved my bald head and didn’t care that I resembled a boiled egg with a face! It was in those moments when I realized how truly blessed I was for such unconditional commitment and love. I had the ultimate cheerleader, the ultimate motivation for beating this disease. Yes, I had an incredible gynecologic oncologist – the best in the world as far as I’m concerned, but more importantly, I had this amazing little girl at home who needed me. Failure was not an option, no matter the cost to me. She doesn’t really know it yet, but she’s my hero. She represents my hope for a better tomorrow, for the determination of a few – even the little ones with their limited understanding – to find a cure.
I have been asked countless times by others what advice I would give to others diagnosed with cancer. There is really no simple, succinct answer. The sooner that you accept the fact that you will be forever changed by this journey, the sooner you can begin to heal. For me, focusing on what is really important sometimes helped. At other times, I allowed myself to feel those scary feelings that were ever brewing just under the surface. Allow yourself to feel those things but do not allow yourself to remain in those dark places. Get out of the house, meet friends for coffee or dinner. Do things that you will bring a degree of normalcy to your life. By remaining focused and committed to doing what you have to do, the warrior within you will thrive and you will be forever changed by the journey none of us ever intended to take.
In 2008 I was 49, playing singles tennis, working, and very active. That December my clothes started feeling a little tight, but I just thought it was holiday weight gain and not enough exercise. Throughout January and early February I began to get more bloated but still I had no other symptoms. It was in mid-February I looked like I was pregnant—I knew something wasn’t right. I then decided to go see my family doctor and the day I saw him he sent me to get a ct scan to just “check it out”. Within two weeks, I was having surgery and HIPEC with Dr. Benigno. Hindsight is always 20/20, but my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 45 and she passed away at 51. Because of that I always kept a watchful eye for the disease that took her life, never knowing the close connection between the two diseases (if you have a daughter, get the BRAC 1 and 2 testing, you owe it to her!).
On October the 5, 2009, after several weeks of backaches, tummy pains, bloating, and pains shooting down my legs, I emailed a doctor friend, who asked that I come into her office in the next hour. She is a urologist, and decided to do blood work, tests, and a CT Scan, to rule out kidney stones.