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Women's Gallery - Our Women of the Month   

We gratefully acknowledge these wonderful women for sharing their journeys with us. Please note that the information provided below are women’s own stories and the treatment options are not necessarily the recommendations and views of the New Zealand Gynaecological Cancer Foundation (Silver Ribbon). We recommend and support the latest and most up to date methods endorsed by Gynaecological Oncologists.  We recommend that you follow your Gynaecological Oncologists or doctors advice.

Carol Kennedy - Woman of the Month September 2010

Hello - I have been following the SR Foundation website for a few years being introduced to it by the wonderful Glynis Cumming at CDHB. Apart from being an avid reader every month and borrowing books from Helen, I have not written anything. I thought I would relate a little about me. I have been married to Jim for 36 years and have an adult son and daughter.

In 2002 I was being treated for IBS and both the colonoscopy and barium meal xray were unremarkable, so I was discharged from CDHB on the understanding I would be seen if anything changed. About a year passed and I was at the end of my tether. I was chomping down nurofen at an alarming rate and would not leave home without them. (Recently I was having a spring clean of old handbags and every bag had at least six nurofen). I would go home at lunchtime and lie down, which would provide some relief. After a particularly bad day my Mother insisted I phone the bowel specialist and he saw me within a week. He examined my abdomen and when he got near the pubic bone I nearly hit the roof. I was urgently sent for a vaginal scan and the rest, as they say, is history.

I was diagnosed with Stage IIIc ovarian cancer in January 2004. I was admitted to Christchurch Womens in February 2004 and had my ovaries removed and a debulking op. The irony is I had a hysterectomy in 2000 and at that time it was discussed if my ovaries looked ok they would be left. I agreed, and that conversation haunts me to this day. The op was followed by 4 cycles of chemo (gemcitabine, paclytaxel, and carboplatin) then another debulking op with a further 4 cycles of chemo, so that put paid to 2004. I responded well and when my hair came back in curls I enjoyed it for a time.

In May 2005 I had an urgent appendectomy. At the time I was miserable but soon realised I was lucky. The appendix had a nasty growth which I did not need! In October of that year I had a relapse and I can honestly say I was more devastated with that diagnosis than I was with the first. In February 2006 I commenced 6 cycles of chemo (reduced to carboplatin and paclytaxel) again responding well. January 2008; another relapse and another round of chemo (carboplatin only this time). As it was taking its toll on me in other ways and the response was again good I only had 4 cycles.

January 2009; another relapse and another 6 cycles of chemo (carboplatin only), again responding well, and would you believe January 2010 I started another 6 cycles of chemo (again carboplatin only) finishing June, once again with a good response. I have lost count of the CT scans and PICC lines I have had over the years. My course of chemo this year, I relied on the skill and patience of the oncology nurses to insert the luer. All this means I have had 5 courses of chemo over the last 6 ½ years and I think I am still sane! Though not all close to me would agree. I had never heard of ovarian cancer or knew anything about the warning signs. After all I had been going to my female GP for at least 2 years previous and IBS was the only symptom she diagnosed and treated. All my symptoms were classic. I even remember sitting in her surgery saying at the end of the day “I look 6 months pregnant” and had to undo the zip on my skirt. This was just 6 and a half years ago, not in the dim dark ages, and it makes my blood run cold to think if I had not been proactive and followed my inner self the outcome would have been very different. It has been a busy few years but in between I have done my best to live my life to the full. Having a loving husband and family have been my mainstay. I have at times been well enough to travel overseas and take great enjoyment in reading, gardening and walking Tilly the dog.

I am an extremely private person and really do not talk a great deal about myself. I just want to share my experiences with other women who may be at the same stage as me or have been recently diagnosed. I know it is easy to say, but because I have “been there, done that”, you must stay focussed and strong and just enjoy each day, even the bad ones. Education is the answer, this is where the Silver Ribbon Foundation is doing such a wonderful job. They are raising awareness of symptoms in women who in turn will ask pertinent questions of their GP’s and Practise nurses.

Robyn Jamieson - Woman of the Month August 2010

My initial symptoms appeared in late August 2004. While on a tour in Europe, I walked a very long way in 40 degree temperatures. That night I saw the merest smear of blood in my knickers, which I didn’t really believe was the result of the walk and the heat. But I said to myself “no way will I go to a doctor in Italy. I’ll wait until I get home.” Because this symptom seemed so insignificant, and I was travelling a lot, I forgot about it. 

A week or two after I arrived home a similar thing happened, that is, a long walk, followed by a little blood. This time it was bright. I really want to emphasise that there were only a few drops, and if I had been using a coloured towel instead of a white one, I might not have noticed even then. Next day, I went to see my GP who arranged an ultrasound for a couple of days later, a Friday. On her request form, she wrote “Please give patient results”.

The ultrasound was a mainly painless procedure, and although I can’t really read these I could see a patch of what the technician called (when I asked) an increased blood supply. I asked for the results, but had to be very persistent, and listen to a few excuses about why I shouldn’t have these. By now it was late Friday afternoon. If I hadn’t got the results, I would have to wait until Monday knowing something serious was up!

I read the printed results in the car and took them immediately to my GP. We had a short discussion about who I would like to see. Then and there she phoned our chosen gynaecological oncologist for an appointment the next Tuesday. He examined me and arranged for me to have a further examination under a general anaesthetic the next day, which removed all doubt that I had an endometrial tumour.

Because National Women’s Hospital was moving to Auckland at this time, I had to wait longer than usual for surgery, which was scheduled for 1 November 2004, my elder son’s birthday! The total hysterectomy proceeded with minimal discomfort. (Pain relief has advanced a great deal since my nursing days.)

My surgeon told me that all was well, and that he had “got it all”. I thought that was a bit too easy, and so it proved. When the pathology came back, they were “unable to rule out” further invasion, and involvement of the blood supply. Now came the really frightening part. At this time the surgeon was away and the registrar’s advice was that I needed radiation therapy every day for six weeks to be sure that I was clear. This meant zapping the whole pelvic cavity, where my bowel and bladder still sat and 24 hours lying on my back, unable to do anything for myself, in a leadlined room with a radiation device in my vagina to “treat” the vault of my vagina. Any time the staff had to come into the room, the radiation would be switched off, so that extra time would be added to the 24-hour total. As an enticement I was assured that I would have drugs, and a tv to keep me amused. To say I freaked out is an understatement!  During a discussion with the registrar, I asked for statistics and was presented with a bit of paper with some scribbled figures, but no other explanation. A nurse, trying to persuade me, said “but think of the alternative”. At that time a not very relevant American website was all that my friends researching could find, and although the Cancer Society has a library it is hard to sort out what you need when you are not thinking straight.

I had heard of Ian Gawler, and his 30-year survival from cancer after a prognosis of six months. I decided to go to Australia’s Yarra Valley where he and a group of wonderful people run programmes on what you can do for yourself to help heal yourself. His book, You Can Conquer Cancer, is available if you prefer not to, or cannot, make the trip to Australia.  However if you can go, do it now and give yourself a great mental and physical boost toward good health. The 10-day programme gave me such strength and the knowledge that I could help myself, that I could return home with a firm decision not to proceed with radiation. 

I did see a very kind and helpful oncology radiologist who satisfied my need for some recent statistics. He made time for me and my younger son to see him at Auckland Hospital. After hearing of a few of my son’s adventures, the radiologist said that clearly gambling ran in the family.  He could not resist telling me what an awful death was in store for me should my “gamble” not pay off.

I continued to follow the Gawler principles I had learned in Australia, as outlined in the book, and still do as much as possible. I continue to be well, with no recurrence. I should add that at my three-month check, my surgeon said “It is entirely your decision. I don’t know what I would do in similar circumstances.” I am totally supported by my GP and gynaecological oncologist. All my family and many friends supported my decision, though there were some who did not. However at least they kept their feelings to themselves.

Now nearly six years later I remain well.  Three years ago a nasty fall while running on a concrete path resulted in three weeks in hospital and a total hip replacement.  Recovery has been very slow and I will apparently always walk with a stick.  the last orthopaedic specialist I consulted says I have "an 80% hip"

Atfer a severe mental or physical shock is experienced we may worry that the cancer will come back.

I have tried to keep up with all the mental exercises, medication, and positive thinking and I remind myself of a "Gawler" wisdom.  Every pain is not cancer. 

Jan Barker - Woman of the Month June 2010

Like many mums out there, I am busy juggling a full time job and two teenage boys who have been heavily involved with sporting activities over the years. At one stage it was tennis, rugby, swimming and rowing so there was never a lot of ‘me time’ between early morning drop offs and late night pick ups.

Seven years ago I somehow managed to find a little ‘me time’ and book myself in to see my GP for what I call my ‘warrant of fitness’ and just happened to mention to him that I had been spot bleeding and could he look at changing my contraception pill because I thought it may have been that causing the problems.

After an examination my GP said he was concerned about something and would like for me to see a specialist for a more thorough examination. I found myself booked in to see a gynaecological oncologist specialist the very next day. I wasn’t too worried at this stage, just following along.

The next day I left the specialist clinic somewhat dazed. A biopsy had been done and I was informed that I had Cervical Cancer – wow, wasn’t expecting that.

In less than two weeks I was booked in for surgery to have the tumour removed and a radical hysterectomy. I had to wait for the results of the surgery before knowing if I needed further treatment (radiation/chemotherapy).

My results were the best news I had ever had, no further treatment was required. The cancer had been removed in its early stages.

Because I asked a simple question at the Doctor’s I have been fortunate enough to carry on and enjoy my busy life and have much pleasure sharing my time with my wonder husband and boy’s.

Although my journey was a short one the results were the best and I can’t emphasis enough to all women to check for signs and symptoms for all gynaecological cancers. If something is abnormal, no matter how small, it’s not normal – be proactive, get it checked.

Awareness can save your life and I am a proud supporter of the Foundation for Gynaecological Cancer (Silver Ribbon) and volunteer my time in helping them in anyway I can.

Lyn Payne - Woman of the Month May 2010

I am just about to undergo my third series of chemotherapy for recurrent ovarian cancer.  It is always frightening to start another session knowing that this disease is still active in my body and is not going to go away.  But with all the love and support I have from my wonderful husband, my children (although they are overseas) and close band of caring friends, I head into it once again with hope and a positive attitude.

I have my private feelings of despair but snap myself out of that and only think positively.  I try not to get down on the days after treatment when my taste buds have gone and the smell and taste of chemicals in my body try to overrule my life, and only think about the days ahead when I will feel better.  So I equip myself with all the things I love and put my mind to better use.  Down days, I call then, and they will not last forever.  I am a fibre artist so on these down days I plan my next projects and surround myself with sketch pads, fibre, books and my beloved ipod which is full of audio books. My hands never stop and it takes away the 'poor ole me' thoughts.

When I was first diagnosed or should I say shocked into reality, I did feel a little sorry for myself but quickly put that to the back of my mind and decided to enjoy and fill the days ahead with everything I love.  I think the biggest shock of all was the loss of my hair (only I could be so vain!) but then, once again on a more positive level, I thought of hats.  Yes, I could create fabulous hats in every colour and every style so I would look beautiful and hold my head up.  And everytime I went out I got comments about them, not one person realised I had no hair, only what a beautiful hat I was wearing.  And where could they get one?  I felt fantastic. 

I count myself lucky that I have wonderful friends around me that encourage me with my projects.  I host a regular 'Stitch n Bitch' group who keep my spirits up and with lots of laughter and happy moments. Although we have had the discussion about my cancer, and they all want to know, I have told them from the start to speak about it, feel free to ask me anything, even if "is it true you lose all your hair, everywhere?" My group know I do not want negative people, pity or depressing thoughts around me, that I want to be treated as just one of the girls. 

So as my life goes on day to day, I make the most of the time I have with my family and friends and put as much into everyday as is possible, although at times, my husband tries to slow me down.  Having cancer certainly has shown me how precious life is and I for one will make the most of what I have left.

Lyn Payne

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Melissa Miller - Woman of the Month April 2010

I am 25 years old, and my fertility was taken away by cancer treatment for vulvarian skin cancer. I struggled with gallbladder disease for two years... fighting to get some kind of medical coverage so i could potentially "get better" !

While in the process of getting medical treatment, my body was fading, I lost about 100lbs.  I used to weigh close to 260lbs.  When I had my gallbladder removed, the day I got diagnoised with vulva cancer, I weighed 112lbs, I was diagnoised the day after christmas 2008. I held my head high when i walked out of that hospital, but I broke down after I got thru the door, I screamed, I cursed, I yelled to the heavens, The only thing I managed to hear the doctor say was CANCER.... Not the type - not when i should come back - nothing but CANCER!

Outside that day.... I cried, Not knowing what else to do... so I bought a $2 scratch ticket, and I won $40, that was my sign that everything was going to be alright!  I knew then that I could withstand anything that life threw at me.... including treatments, surgerys and disability!

I am currently in remission, thank the heavens! I still get scared of cancer and the things it has changed but I know that in the end everything will be fine.

With love and kindness,

Melissa Miller 

Dianne Davy - Woman of the Month March 2010

Hi there. I am now into my third year of stage 3 ovarian/peritoneal cancer.

Looking back from the time of diagnosis and through to today, I have to say that I have had quite a journey. A journey from diagnosis and facts to faith and hope, depression and drugs to freedom from both before the next shots....Wellness for a few months to "Oh God, what next?"  You name it, I have done it on all the different chemotherapy treatments and am still going. I am still going, still hoping and still have my faith.  I still have my ups and downs depending on how many steroids for anti nausea are given and still have my reality checks on how much longer will this last.

All in all, I enjoy every moment of every day that is given to me and look forward to every moment of relationship and love with my family that at this point of time I can claim...all I know is that I am still going, still fighting and still know that I am loved....so much more to tell but hey, it is such a long journey that I can fill you in as I go along.

Bye for now, Dianne

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Sally McRae - Woman of the Month December 2009, January and February 2010

I had a lump in my vulva. This lump appeared in the first months of 2008. It was noticeable then not so. I get annual check ups for Cervical Screening, Bladder cancer - due to my mother, and a Paternal Aunt losing this battle and a couple of cousins having it. I get Mammograms and have done since before they were free due to a grandmother having cancer there and many other places. I was doing "Everything" to check that cancer did not visit me. I made an appointment to go to my Gyn Specialist 3 months earlier than normal to check out the "lump". She thought it was probably a Bartholin Gland Cyst but due to my history she did not want to leave it. I am a single divorced mother of two children and could not afford to pay $3-4000 to get this cyst treated. However I was in considerable pain and often unable to walk or exercise. Sitting was not so much fun at times either. Also got bladder infections with this so was often on antibiotics. My specialist rang the hospital and asked that they see and assess me urgently due to my familial history and the rapid presentation of this lump. I spent from very early one morning to early afternoon being "seen" at the acute Gynae unit. I was clearly upset and in pain. After being given pain killers and told I was silly and stupid to consider this might be cancer I was sent away. This put me off so much EVER going back that I put up with the pain, gave up getting it seen to and just dealt with it. I got a letter saying that I was urgent but it did not qualify me to be seen or be put on a list for treatment. It grew to about 3-4 times the size over time and I became intermittently sick and being constantly in pain just gave up. I broke up with a great man as sex became less of something I enjoyed to something I knew I would pay for in the few days with bladder and groin pain. I had to stop trying work as just felt sick and raising two kids was all I could manage. Fast forward to GREAT GP asking why I was so run down that I now had shingles again. Also why I had stopped exercising and had gained weight. She sent me to the Charity Hospital due to being rejected by the Public system. Within a few weeks I was in to have the lump drained. I was lucky that a GREAT surgeon had volunteered there and he knew what he saw was not a cyst and removed it, sending it for histology. The news came over the phone a few days later. I had Leiomyosarcoma which was VERY rare in a very rare place. I became one of about 40 women who get a vulva cancer diagnosis in New Zealand each year. Am now in the public system and had wide margin excision 2 months after the initial operation. News that it had been allowed to grow so close to the anal sphincter in that year in between that I may now need a colostomy was very upsetting and sometimes I wish we had accountability. I now urge ALL women to get this checked - to talk openly about their "bits". I do not shy away from telling people where my cancer is and deflect stupid comments about "have I given up smoking" with – “that part never smoked!” Actually I never smoked. I am horrified by what appears to be kept secret from women. Having Cervical screening does not help identify any of these "other" cancers. We have to be more forceful, we have to argue to be treated and investigated and we have to stand up to those who believe we are "silly and stupid". I continue in fighting to get the best treatment options I can. I research and talk to the ONE woman in the world I have found with similar cancer in similar place. She is my hero and someone to talk to. The chance of finding anyone in New Zealand is almost nil so Silver Ribbon has been a lifeline for me and I refer others to it all the time.

After surgery I have had to make the decision which were briefly, 1. Wait and see due to margins not being brilliant it could come back, 2. Do a full colostomy now or 3. Try radiation to try and stop it coming back. I have chosen option one. I thought I would want to take any pill, do any treatment but I had to weigh the side effects up against the potential for more harm and chance for success. Sometimes doing nothing is the scariest option.

I recently treated myself to a photography session as the cancer diagnosis made me realise how few photos I have of myself with my children. This one was taken of us on Sumner beach by a local photographer Natasha Cropp who has kindly allowed me to reproduce it here. I have learned to take every opportunity now, to laugh, have fun, create memories and do what I want to do. Strangely I have laughed more and loved more than before the cancer thing visited my life. I was always passionate but think it has made me more so. There have been the odd moment of feeling blue, but as I was thinking about it the other day in some ways it has abated a mid life crisis and replaced it with a refocusing on what is important. As someone recently wrote to me “Whenever I am feeling blue, I just breathe again..........”. and I am very much of the philosophy that cancer is a word and not a sentence and that with this in mind I am starting to make more plans.

The photo is reproduced with permission from Natasha Cropp www.natashacphotography.com

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Michelle Sutherland - Woman of the Month November 2009

My name is Michelle Sutherland I am currently 37 and ½ years old and lucky to be here today.  I read somewhere that the hardest words to say in the English language are: "I love you", "I am sorry", "please help me".

Well I think the hardest words to hear in the English language are: "You have cancer".

Those three little words cause your life to flash before your eye’s or as in my case I went “oh, ok” then promptly fell asleep, (I had just come up from PICU to the ward).

So started my amazing journey with RALPH – my personal name for the free loading waste of space that I had been carrying around which has this big technical name of ……Endometroid Carcinoma of the Endometrium Stage 111C - Ralph is sooo much easier to say.

On July 11th 2008 I entered Mid-Central Health’s Palmerston North Hospital for what should have been a fairly routine Hysterectomy for Fibroids I ended up having a TAH & BSO. I left 5 days later with out my bits (yeah for me) being told I had an old ladies cancer (I’m 36½ at this point and I never displayed any symptoms) and with a potential death sentence, from the start I said it wasn’t going to kill me as I had and still have too many people to bug in this world, I now call it my life sentence.

I complained at the time and I made the local paper about it, that the waiting was unbearable but now I look back and I’m glad, because what it means to me is that I wasn’t a snap decision to treat here and here, they looked at the whole and came up with a plan, and the best thing for me … it’s a plan that’s worked!

Don’t get me wrong my treatment had it’s highs (starting and finishing) and a couple of lows (machines breaking and stopping for the D’s & V’s) but it has helped make me stronger, my sense of humour, own personal belief system and sheer stubbornness has gotten me and my support crew through the pre-treatment dark days, treatment days and the after care worries – never ever underestimate the power of a joke, e-mail, phone call or prayer.

What I learnt at this point is having cancer is the most isolating time in anyone’s life and that’s when you learn to say …." I love you", "I am sorry" and "please help me".  (Did I mention cancer is empowering as well as belittling to you?)

To everyone reading this say to the women in your life (yes I do mean your mother, wife, lover, sister, best friend, daughter, best friends daughter, your daughter in law whom you dislike intently!!!) GO HAVE A SMEAR AND FOLLOW IT THRU WITH YOUR G.P. – hound them if you must - just do it.

I had my smear’s but never had the follow thru with my old G.P. (my bad), I have a new G.P. with the greatest staff both medical and clerical, who it is never to much bother when you have a down day. So thank you Doctor Greig Russell and City Health Staff.

I now wear the mark of ‘Ralph’ for life, to celebrate my 1st year since I was handed my life sentence I got a tattoo (yip I am a wee bit of an extravert) thank you Richard at Powerhouse Tattoo’s in Palmerston North for your care, respect and ability to put me at ease.

Next year who knows what I will do.  Yes, I still have the fear of a recurrent happening but I’m under the close care of Dr Johan Nel – Oncologist & Dr Jackie Hansen – Gynaecologist here in Palmerston North at the RCTC so I know I’m in great hands.

Life is looking good, keep the faith and go have a smear test – NOW!

I would like to thank the SRF for allowing me to use the ‘silver ribbon’ and Wellington Hospital (1 of my treatment providers) for if I hadn’t got lost I would never had found the SFR information.

Hayley McManus - Woman of the Month October 2009

My journey in the last year is reminiscent of Albert Einstein quote “There are only two ways to live your life, one is as though nothing is a miracle and the other is as though everything is a miracle’ this has become more tangible for me. A year ago I was extremely unsure of what life held for me, at 27 years old I had just been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. 

Unlike most women diagnosed with ovarian cancer, I was unwell (and suddenly so) for only a week or so before being admitted to the emergency department at Christchurch Hospital with extreme back pain, breathing difficulties and the inability to keep fluid down. I had a rapidly and aggressively growing tumour that was placing pressure on a number of internal organs. Most women diagnosed with ovarian cancer have a very insidious onset of symptoms. Diagnosis is often delayed as symptoms are not recognised until a late stage, so in a strange way I was fortunate. 

I was admitted to Christchurch Women’s Hospital and ten days later underwent a unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (surgical removal of a fallopian tube and an ovary). The two days prior to my surgery I had extreme feelings of anguish; this was two fold in terms of the potential cancer diagnosis and the uncertainty of my future fertility. Having children is a priority for me and at that point in time in October 2008 it mattered more to me personally than whether I lived or died. This was reflected in the choices I made regarding surgery options. 

Two days after the surgery on the Thursday afternoon my Gynaecological Oncologist visited as she did on several occasions during my stay. I wouldn’t imagine it is ever an easy thing to tell anyone, let alone a 27 year old that she has cancer. I will never forget this visit - when I was diagnosed with stage 1B germ cell ovarian cancer (where the cancer is isolated to one ovary and fallopian tube) Germ cell cancers are very rare and account for less than 5% of ovarian cancers. It was highly likely that I would need chemotherapy. 

The recovery from the operation was challenging both physically (my mobility was restricted and I was heavily reliant on others for day to day assistance), and emotionally – dealing with the implications of my diagnosis.

Once discharged, I embarked on a research mission for simple unbiased collection of facts, treatments and coping strategies for people with ovarian cancer. What I thought was a relatively simple search on the internet for a person with a public health and health research background, actually proved daunting - I was overwhelmed. My cancer diagnosis is relatively uncommon, especially for women my age and therefore I found little in the way of information from medical journals and articles. However I came across the Silver Ribbon Foundation website and it was my saving grace as I read stories from other New Zealand women who had been diagnosed with gynaecological cancers. 

I do not recall much of the end of 2008 and into early 2009 - I simply existed day by day.

My weeks were dictated by numerous clinical appointments, lung function tests, hearing tests, blood tests, ultrasound scans and CTs in preparation for potential chemotherapy and the potential options of IVF. 

The 4th of December 2008 was the moment of truth for me in terms of the treatment path; this was the day that would determine my future pathway on this journey. Physically I was feeling better. Emotionally I knew what I wanted to do in terms of completing a round of IVF to harvest my eggs prior to chemo but I was torn between my gut instinct and the clinicians’ views. I had completed all the preparation for chemotherapy, however my surgeon had the best news; that the cancer had not spread and through close monitoring, three monthly outpatient visits, quarterly CT scans and ultrasounds, I could look forward to a complete recovery without the immediate need for chemotherapy. 

I had decided that IVF was my next priority as long as my tumour markers remained within a predetermined range and the procedure wouldn’t be detrimental to my immediate health. With financial assistance from my parents, it enabled me to do 10 weeks of IVF, I was extremely lucky to have the retrieval of 13 eggs from one ovary that are now frozen as my investment policy, should I ever need to do chemotherapy. I found IVF to be more physically and emotionally gruelling than I had anticipated even more so, than my surgery.

Throughout all of this, my workplace has been extremely supportive – during the diagnosis and recovery period - especially in the initial weeks following my operation, facilitating my return to work part time to regain some normality in my life. 

While my experience with ovarian cancer was at the time devastating, it also brought out the best in my family and friends. This story does not do justice to the love, amazing support and sacrifices that my family and friends made for me during my journey, I still feel deeply blessed and grateful to family and friends for their amazing support. 

I have found that my life has changed considerably in the past year. The only time I am anxious now is the night before the three-monthly check ups. Overall I am fortunate that my ovarian cancer was detected at a comparatively early stage, which enabled the surgeons to operate and remove all visible tumours. My outlook is very positive with close monitoring.

I have learnt so much from my cancer journey – my outlook on life has completely changed. You never know what is around the corner and this whole experience has made me re-evaluate what is important to me. I now understand how things can change so quickly. 

I have also met some of the most incredible and understanding people who have helped me through my journey and have made some amazing friends, some who share a similar story to mine. I am extremely fortunate; my cancer was diagnosed relatively early before it had spread. Many women are not so lucky and I hope that by sharing my journey and experiences that it raises the awareness of ovarian cancer. Through awareness, women may become more familiar with the signs of ovarian cancer and seek medical advice early if experiencing these. 

Every story has an end, but in life every ending is just a new beginning.

A special note of appreciation extends to Dr Bryony Simcock, Dr Alex Cole, Dr Peter Benny, Nikki Ford and the team at Christchurch Women’s Hospital, their expertise and insight has me in admiration. 

 Fiona Paterson - Woman of the Month September 2009

Born in Dunedin in 1983, the second youngest of seven and raised on a sheep station in Central Otago, Fiona has always played a “ridiculous range of sports”. Her main passions were hockey and rowing and five years at Columba College in Dunedin allowed her the opportunity to indulge her sporting and artistic passions whilst balancing her academic pursuits. “If I had to describe myself,” Fiona says, “I would say I am a sporty, arty, random, empathetic person who is very grateful to be around to be these things.”

Recognizing an innate and inwardly competitive streak, Fiona found her place in the rowing team and set about achieving performance goals. She was selected into the New Zealand Junior Women’s Rowing Eight in 2000 and 2001. Following strong performances, Fiona was selected into the New Zealand Under 23 team from 2003 to 2005. In 2004 as a member of the Quad, her team won a Gold Medal at under 23 World Champs in Poland.

In February 2006, following a prolonged period of reduced athletic performance and severe fatigue, Fiona underwent a series of tests and was diagnosed with clear cell cervical cancer. Tell tale signs of the illness went undetected for longer than they should have. Fiona had previously accepted the notion that being an athlete and subjecting your body to physical stress, messed with your cycle. She saw being tired as “part of the package” so pressed on with training and a busy life, putting her concerns to the back of her mind.

There was six weeks between Fiona’s diagnosis of cervical cancer and her surgery to have the tumour removed and a radical hysterectomy. Following this was another six weeks recovery before beginning five weeks of daily radiation and five rounds of chemotherapy to completely eradicate any cancer cells. This treatment was essential but caused Fiona’s ovaries to fail and the onset of premature menopause. Fiona started on Hormone Replacement Therapy. At just 23, the reality of never having children was a difficult challenge to face, but she did so with the same steely resolve and determination that had helped her succeed in her sporting pursuits. “Letting cancer beat me was never an option and letting it decrease my quality of life wasn’t either, I didn’t let cancer rule my mind”.

Physical fitness and sporting achievement had always driven Fiona, so it was no surprise to anyone that she trained lightly during treatment. As soon as her treatment finished she was determined to build her strength, slowly getting fit again and setting about rebuilding her life. To her credit, Fiona was selected into the New Zealand Rowing Team (Women’s Eight) in 2007 and 2008, narrowly missing out on qualifying for the Eight for Beijing Olympics. Currently working towards making the New Zealand rowing summer squad at the end of the year, Fiona has her sights set on future achievements on the water and is grateful for the ongoing support of Rowing New Zealand.

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, Fiona is candid about the procrastination that could have cost her life, “I should have been a lot more proactive, gone for regular smear tests and listened to my body.” The unwavering love and support of family and friends was one of the keys to Fiona’s recovery. Having their support at the time of surgery and post operative care, and throughout the entire treatment period kept her mood buoyed and allowed her to focus on the matter of getting better.

Fiona can’t speak highly enough of her wonderful team of medical professionals, including her surgeon Dr Ai Ling Tan, and Ruth Angel and the team at Waikato hospital. It was Dr Ai Ling Tan that recognized Fiona’s spirit, passion for life and her genuine concern for those around her, and approached Fiona to be a part of the Silver Ribbon team. Fiona talks about the opportunity to be part of the Silver Ribbon Foundation as the highlight of her year and sharing her journey with cervical cancer as “making a difference to the lives of other women”. “Talking about it is the only way to raise awareness,” Fiona said, “Women need to know the signs and symptoms of all four gynaecological cancers and if something is abnormal, it’s not normal, and they need see a doctor, don’t procrastinate”.

Malia Pitolua - Woman of the Month August 2009

Being a Pacific Islander discussing matters of the "woman's body" is not the usual. Last year I went to a new doctor to explain that my periods were more irregular and abnormal then usual (I had always had abnormal and irregular periods for years with many doctors saying it was normal). After explaining my symptoms which included very heavy bleeding with huge blood clots after no period for months. She referred me onto a gyneagoligist. Within a few weeks I went for surgery to have biopsies done of my uterus. A growth was discovered so this was removed and sent away for testing. The results were that there was abnormalites which indicated the possibility of cancer. So last November I had a hysterectomy (removal of uterus, cervix and the possibility of me ever bearing children). Then this April I had both ovaries removed as there was an indication that the cancer may and will spread further. So at the age of 36 I am looking at early menopause. These are the harsh realities of having such a diagnosis but it dosent mean that my tale is all doom and gloom. Due to catching it early enough the doctors are confident that all the cancer has been removed and there is no need for further treatment such as Radiation or Chemo therapy. I tell my story because I want women including Pacific Island women to know that it is okay to talk about matters relating to our bodies and health. And we as women know our bodies and if there are health concerns keep on pursuing answers from health providers as it may save your life. After my diagnosis and previous life losses (my husband passed away 4 years ago) I decided to pursue some dreams. I am now heading into my second semester of my first year in a law degree. Sometimes life gives you lemons so you make lemonade.

Olive Brown - Woman of the Month - July 2009

About six years ago I noticed a couple of times when I went to the toilet that after I had ‘been’ that there was a little blob floating in the bowl. First time I didn’t take much notice, second time I thought I had better make a closer inspection and fished it out with the toilet brush. It looked like discharge with blood in it, it was only the size of a 10 cent piece. I thought “Is this normal or is this something I should be concerned about”. After mulling it over in my head for a while, I rang the free health line (0800 611116). The registered nurse who answered told me I should make an appointment to see my GP within a week. 

My GP made arrangements for me to have a D&C to see if there was anything to worry about. When I came to, the doctor who had performed the procedure told me she had found something and it was particularly nasty. A biopsy was done on a piece of the growth and was found not to be cancerous but I was to be given a hysterectomy just to be on the safe side. After the hysterectomy I went to Timaru to stay with my son to recuperate and when I got back to Christchurch I had several messages on my answer phone asking me to ring my gynecologist . Apparently, the growth was cancerous, but it was all taken away with the hysterectomy.

After having vault smears for 5 years I have been declared cancer free, and I am so glad I rang the Healthline when I did as early detection and intervention are critical if women’s lives are to be saved from gynaecological cancer.

Carol Nelson - Woman of the Month - May/June 2009

Cancer - that insidious disease that happens to other people. Thank goodness I'd always had my regular smear tests and mammograms and slapped sunscreen on when soaking up the uvs. Always the fittest one in the group and watched what I ate - ready for whatever physical activity I could cram into my day . I'd never had a sick day of remembrance, and always managed to keep the nasties of winter at bay.

It was in mid January 2005, my husband and I were back in New Zealand from California where we had been based for the past 7 years, staying at the beach for Xmas with the family. A bout of diarrhea persisted beyond what should've been a normal tummy bug - an annoying distruption to my vacation beach time! No where in my wildest dreams would I have known what was ahead of me. The complications of living on 2 sides of the Pacific were about to step into top gear and life would never be the same again.

A faece test was ordered for me in NZ but before I had the results I was winging my way back to California on our scheduled flight.

With a clear faece test result from NZ and still the persistent diarrhea so began a 2 month frustrating ordeal to get to the "bottom" of the matter.

My medical insurance company in America required that authorisations for each Specialist or procedure be obtained before making the appointment, hence delaying valuable time, an ambivalent Primary Care Dr who needed to apply for the authorisations alluding to the notion that I was nagging him for appointments only added to the stress.

Finally a colonoscopy ordered by a Gastroenterologist revealed that my colon was clear but that a "mass" appeared to be pressing on the rectal wall. More pre authorisations found me at a Gynaecologist who ordered a Vaginal ultrasound - there on the screen was the lump the size of a lemon. It was pointed out to me by the Radiologist and I was sent on my way to contemplate the "lemon" over the Easter break. 

CA125 blood test - I had to write that down - all this medical lingo - I was sure to forget what the name of the test was! 

A phone call from the Gynaecologist brought my world crashing down. I was at home by myself, they werent happy with the ultrasound findings, and that CA125 blood test - it had come back with a reading of 1547 - this was the first time I was to hear that C word!!!

I immediately called my husband who arrived home in a flash - what on earth was happening - this cant be possible - hadnt I just biked 100km last weekend, at the gym with the girls, out walking our faithful Lab each day whom we had brought with us to the States - there was no time in my life for this sort of nonense. My strong fit body wouldnt let me down. 

It was now early April and things really started to move. There was no time wasted getting me an appt to see an Oncologist surgeon - surgery was scheduled for 15th April - our 33rd wedding anniversay!.........and 2 weeks before our son, who was also living in America, was to marry his American sweetheart on the beach not far from our home.My lovely strong daughter back in Auckland volunteered the unenviable task of flying down to Gisborne to deliver the news to my aging parents. 

The surgeon explained to my husband and I that the tumour was expected to be malignant and as it was pressing on my bowel they wanted to prepare me for for the probability that they would have to remove that part of the bowel and reconstruct the bowel again - hopefully not leaving me with a colostomy bag but that a temporary one may be needed.

Chemotherapy would be required after surgery and yes - I would lose my hair. How could my hair possibly fall out - it had long been a joke with my friends that my hair was so coarse and thick that it could be plaited for strong rope! 

"Advanced Stage 3b Ovarian Cancer "- optimum bebaulking with reconstruction of the bowel - but - thankfully, as it turned out no colostomy bag! 

I was up and about in the hospital in no time - I spent my days trudging along the corridors to the maternity ward to gaze at the beautiful babies through the window and watch the new parents and families full of joy over the start of their new lives. It was during this time that I wondered if I would ever get to gaze at a newborn baby that would be my grandchild - would I be around to help with their development and keep that "lolly " jar full as my Nanna had done for me? There was no doubt in my mind. I would fight this nasty with every strength of my being. 

Our son's wedding was an amazing celebration with family and friends arriving from New Zealand and the States. My lovely neighbours decorated a wheelchair for me, befitting the Mother of the Groom, and my daughter and best friend did my hair. Determined to dance that first dance with my son I got up on the dance floor - a wonderful night. 

2 days after the wedding found me back in hospital with an infection in my incision. I was released into the care of my 'kiwi bloke' husband who was given the task of cleaning my wound each night for 2 months as it slowly closed on its own. This man who was more familar with a hammer and nail, than gauze and scissors, gently cleaned my wounds, made me laugh, gave me hope, and refused to let me believe that tomorrow wasnt going to be a better day. 

6 weeks after my initial surgery my body was ready for the chemotherapy. 6 rounds of Carboplatin and Taxol. The day of my first infusion dawned and I watched people outside hurrying off to work, walking their dogs and in general going about their business oblivious to the fact that my world was falling apart. After my 2nd round of chemptherapy when I was feeling well enough to enjoy food, my husband and I headed off on a beautiful Californian day down to La Jolla for lunch at a restaurant on the beach. It was on the way home with the roof of the convertible car down that we noticed that my hair was actually blowing away! The hair loss was becoming a reality. We shaved it short in the back yard of our home with my husband, best friend and a few tears. A few weeks later when I was completely bald my husband surprised me by arriving home bald himself! 

The support of my loved ones at this time still overwhelms me today, my sisterinlaw from NZ cut short her long awaited trip to Mexico to become my nurse, followed by my daughter and 2 amazing friends from NZ, then my neice from Boston. They cooked , cleaned and coaxed me to eat and never let me believe that I couldnt fight this demon. Cards, emails, flowers, food from neighbors, gifts, many from people I had not seen for years encouraged me and gave me hope.

My chemotherapy ended with my being in complete remission and we went on to enjoy every day, we travelled alot , welcomed our first gorgeous grandchild into the world and put our "bump in the road" behind us. 

However 16 months later at the end of 2006 that dreaded CA125 test result indicated that once again trouble was looming. This time there was no ifs or buts, I was informed that they would keep an eye on it until it elevated further, then would give me further chemotherapy. It was explained to us that this recurrence would now mean that I would now never be cured but that everything would be done to keep me alive as long as possible.

This time was indeed the darkest days of my cancer journey - even worse than the original diagnosis - the days turned into nights with no easing up of the indescrible fear of what lay ahead. Would I end up in a hospice? Would I be in a great deal of pain? Would my husband, whom I started dating whilst still at high school, find another woman whom my grandchildren would call Nanny? Why are they leaving this disease with me? Please help me and let me live.

We were back in NZ for the summer of 2007 and major decisions had to be made - would we return to America for the next lot of chemotherapy, to the Drs and medical staff I knew and trusted, or would I remain at home in New Zealand where I had a greater support network. After much soul searching the decision was made to return to America.

A PET scan revealed a tumour close to my aorta, so the decision was not to operate but to deliver 8 rounds of chemotherapy, this time Gemcitabine and Cisplatin. My hair thinned out but thankfully I kept most of my eyebrows and eyelashes-yay! MY CA125 levels were within the normal range after the first round of chemotherapy. 

It is now 17 months since my chemotherapy ended and I am now able to boast as to once again being one of the fittest in the group. We have 3 gorgeous grandchildren on both sides of the Pacific to whom we travel every few months. Whilst now accepting that the cancer will no doubt return one day, I have to believe that day is many years away.

The fear of what lies ahead is still with me, but tucked comfortably away now, only being allowed to resurface for that 3 monthly CA125 result!

 Wendy Ross - Woman of the Month - March/April 2009

On 14 February 2006 I was diagnosed with Primary Peritoneal Cancer which is a rare form of Ovarian Cancer. Peritoneal Cancer is found in the peritoneum membrane which lines the inside of the abdomen. There are a few symptoms however I had nothing to suggest that I wasn't the healthy gym junkie that I always was. I was almost through menopause and was still getting hot flushes and at the odd time bloating (which is a symptom). I put this down to a minor problem with wheat products as it occurred when I ate too much bread or pasta probably about once every two months. The other symptoms are changes in bowel habits or more passing of urine, vague indigestion, sickness or loss of appetite. I ate really well and all my life had no problems with any part of my health and definitely didn't have those symptoms. It is usually found in older people (I am 56 now).

Everyone says I am different and I can guarantee that through this whole journey if anything shouldn't happen then it did to me. My journey started at the Eric Clapton Mission Concert when I started to get a rounder tummy. Three days later I went to my Doctor looking like a 30 week pregnant woman. Three weeks later they diagnosed me and one month later I had a hysterectomy which showed I had Stage III and started on chemotherapy as soon as I could after that. Other funny things kept happening - being bumped off the list for the operation because I was the last one to be operated on and later after the operation having to undergo another one for a prolapse of my bowel. Just silly odd things that made me feel I was different or special.

To date I have had three chemotherapies and am currently a third through my fourth. After the first combination chemotherapy I had a remission of seven months and this was great. However I am having palliative chemotherapy presently. I have been told the prognosis is poor but I am starting to feel great again. It has been a long two year journey filled with approximately eight or so hospital stays however I have heaps to be thankful for. My two adult children and grandchild have been awesome, my work (Fitzherbert Rowe) have been really supportive and still paying my salary because I intend to go back there soon, friends have brought around meals and groceries and always been there for me. I find it hard to ask for help but they know that and do things anyway.

I have been through periods when I got down but I'm allowed to as I have always been a positive person so it kinda balances out. I present myself to everyone I come into contact with as upbeat person and end up believing it. I do continue to be optimistic and have tried to learn one day at a time but I like to keep a picture of me tramping around the hills with my dogs and generally being outside in the sunny weather again. It also helps to have a little goal to work towards. In this life there are heaps of people worse off than me and I wouldn't want to be through all they have, so this is my life and I am embracing it.

Moana Uerata-Jennings - Woman of the Month February 2009

My name is Moana Uerata-Jennings and I am 32 years old. I have been living with Lichen Sclerosis since I was 12 although at the time they had no idea what I had. I am married and I have two sons and whilst pregnant with my second son at 4 and a half months last April 07 they found a lump. The specialist wanted to remove it there and then, to which I said you will have to knock me out first. It hurts pretty much all the time so the added pain of an injection of local anesthetic would send me into a blubbering mess not to mention a health and safety risk for the specialist administering the injection as my feet tend to aim for the person causing me the pain. I settled for a day procedure to semi knock me out and also to keep an eye on the baby. Once the results came back positive for vulval cancer, I went in for a 2 hour operation to cut the cancer out. I did this under a spinal block in an attempt to keep the baby safe. Two hours of starring at the ceiling while the male anesthetist was giving me a running commentary about what was happening "down below" was definitely not how I pictured things going.

I am under the care of two fantastic specialists in the Wellington area and go and see one of them every 6 months and my GP has regular contact with my specialist in case I run into any problems if she is unavailable.

I have had approximately 6 operations to remove the white fused skin that the lichen sclerosis causes in an attempt to resume a normal sex life and reduce the itching and inflamed skin. This is turn should assist in the prevention of any cancerous lumps forming . I have also tried the steroid injections and even injecting my own fat from another part of my body, liquefied and injected into the vulva in an attempt to plump it up again. I am told my next and only option left is a full vulvectomy but am hesitant to do this as I am not recovering as fast from my operations as I used to. My husband has been very patient and accommodating on my good days but things have slowed down since my last biopsy in April of this year. My biggest challenge given the location of the condition is my marriage and unfortunately I have not been so lucky in having a faithful husband. During my last pregnancy and the discovery of the cancer, my husband had an affair and I have unfortunately found that difficult to deal with more so than the cancer itself. It can take it’s toll on a relationship after a while. This whole experience has highlighted to me how short life can be and that “to love and be loved” unconditionally is so important. I hope that one day I receive that unconditional love and support.

Kia Kaha – Stay Strong.

Wendy Shepherd - Woman of the Month December/January 2008/09

I am a 56 yr old woman, single (divorced). I was born in Blenheim, and have lived in Hamilton since 1996. I have two adult daughters and two grandchildren. It was a shock when the specialist told me I had stage 3 cancer of the vagina with 30%-50% chance of living more than 5 years with treatment, and 1 year without treatment. I had believed I had nothing to be too worried about when I had talked to my GP. There are only 25 recorded women with vaginal cancer.

On 28 October I had a PICC line inserted in my arm and threaded close to my heart. Half an hour of Mitomycin chemo was given to me, and then a home pump was attached to me with 120 hours (5 days) of Fluorouracil chemo treatment. 

I've had 3 weeks without the home pump, but get attached to it again next week with 2 days of Brachytherapy (internal radiation to the vagina) as well as external radiation. 

The side effects I got from the chemo were nausea, vomiting and a sore and ulcerated mouth and gums. Radiation side effects are diarrhoea and itchy red skin around the pelvic area, back and front. 

I am still able to ride my scooter and still have the energy to go for walks along the river walkways. 

My friends and workmates have given me ongoing support and love and friendship. 

The daily radiation treatment finishes on December 3, 2008.

Rosana Hallissey - Woman of the Month October/November 2008

(taken from a Silver RIbbon Press Release, 12 September 2008)

'A gut feeling about cancer proves to be right on the spot'

A little bit of knowledge saved my life!  A tender tummy and spotting between periods may not seem life threatening for some women, but for New Zealander Rosana Hallissey knowing the signs and acting on them is what saved her life. 

Five years ago, at 45 years old, Rosana was diagnosed with grade two uterine cancer. Fortunately, she made the wise decision to consult her GP the minute she experienced changes in her body that she knew were not normal.

 It is so important for women to listen to changes in their bodies and if something isn’t quite right, to do something about it, Rosana said. 

“My GP was very pro active and immediately referred me to a Gynaecologist and I underwent a biopsy. A tumour was found on my uterus and the biopsy revealed it was cancer”. 

In the midst of planning her wedding and moving into a new home, Rosana was admitted to hospital where she went through invasive surgery. Her ovaries, uterus, cervix, omentum and lymph nodes were all removed in what was a successful attempt to stop the cancer from spreading any further. 

“After the surgery, I was completely drained. I virtually spent the first six weeks off work and in bed. Everything was put on hold, including getting married and starting a family was no longer possible” said Rosana. 

Rosana has just reached the 5 year cancer free mark. 

During those five years, regular visits with her specialist, Dr Ai Ling Tan, Gynaecological Oncologist at Greenlane Hospital became a routine part of Rosana’s life, as well as going for regular blood tests. 

But the worst part, Rosana said, was going through menopause before her time, with the symptoms starting following her radical surgery.

 “I would get hot flushes anywhere at any time and cried about everything. It was embarrassing.” 

Lucky for Rosana, the cancer was detected in its relatively early stages and after surgery she needed no further treatment. 

Rosana says all women should be proactive in asking their doctors for further tests or a referral to a specialist if they feel that something is wrong. 

“Don’t be scared to ask for a second opinion. I went for my routine smears, as all women should, but that is only to look for changes that might lead to cervical cancer. 

“A smear test cannot detect uterine, ovarian or vulval cancer, the other three main gynaecological cancers. You must know your own body and what is not normal” she said. 

Five years down the line and Rosana has been given the all clear by her specialist. At long last she says she is enjoying a bit of normality in her life. She has regained her confidence and hopes to now use her experience to educate and enlighten other women. 

In October 2004, a year after her surgery, Rosana finally married her love, Sean and the two are now in the process of adopting a child from overseas. 

“We really thought we were coping with each stage and are only now seeing a counsellor to deal with some of the residual emotional issues, said Rosana. 

“I think it’s so important that people seek counselling to assist with any issues arising. Dealing with cancer can be completely overwhelming for all concerned.

 “For my husband and I, it was not just about the cancer it was also about trying to deal with the changes we had to make to our lives post cancer. 

“It’s been a pretty tough five years, but I’ve got my life back now and am hoping my experience will be helpful to others”, says Rosana.

Louise Brewer - Woman of the Month August / September 2008

My name is Louise Brewer, and I have been dealing with cancer of the vulva for just over 3 years (diagnosed) and 18 years (undiagnosed). After recently finding out the cancer has probably re-occurred, I sought psychological help through counselling at Greenlane Hospital. My counsellor referred me to the silver ribbon website, where I found a wealth of information, but no-one sharing their experiences of vulva cancer! I have wondered if this is because there are so few of us with this type of gynae-cancer, or because our vaginas are just a part of our bodies that we don't like talking about. And it is embarrassing to talk about, especially when friends & family are asking why you're in & out of hospital, and on telling them that you're dealing with a cancer problem, the natural response is always "oh dear! where?" But this is another part of the cancer diagnosis you learn to deal with, and get over.

My biggest concern with cancer of the vulva is the gross lack of awareness amongst women. I had nearly 15 years of horrible itching, lumps & sores on my vulva that was diagnosed by I don't know how many doctors, as thrush. And as there are no tests other than doing biopsies for this cancer, I carried on undiagnosed, scratching myself to pieces (literally) until I found a GP who was suspicious enough to send me to the super-clinic for further testing. A big part of my problem with being wrongly diagnosed was how rare the cancer is, and that it is only meant to affect women over 50. I had the symptoms from the age of 19! Fortunately I have not had to deal with radiotherapy or chemotherapy, but this is a possibility this time round. But dealing with a large tumour being removed from my vulva has been a huge thing in itself. Especially with being young & single. Although my surgeon did a wonderful job surgically, I have still been left disfigured. I had my mum say that it is a better cancer to have & deal with than a cancer like breast cancer, but I replied telling her I wasn't sure about that, at least with breast cancer you are offered reconstructive surgery, whereas my cancer, they chop, chop & keep on chopping! My next lot of surgery has me more worried as well. 

The physical signs of the cancer are much higher this time (around the clitoris). My specialist has told me they will have to do laser surgery this time round, as it is too close to the nerve areas of the clitoris. There is also a grave possibility that it could affect my clitoris, which could mean the need for its removal & a high chance of losing the ability to orgasm. I worry if my sex life will end before I meet another partner, and what man is going to want sex with a mutilated vagina! But I keep reassuring myself, by promising to keep my body sacred & special & all mine until I find that special man who will take on my whole person, rather than look at what’s missing! Anyway, vulva cancer is a scary & silent place to be. I am so grateful to have found silver ribbon, where I can have a voice & where I can hopefully find others to share experiences with. 

It has also been wonderful to connect with Rachel Coates through facebook, where the voice for these cancers can be shared amongst even more women! If I had the knowledge that silver ribbon has given me 18 years ago, I would have had a much easier journey with this cancer than I've had. Fortunately cancer of the vulva is extremely slow growing, so it has allowed the time for my mis-diagnoses without the cancer spreading further. It is also an unlikely killer, but can be aggressive, spreading to the bladder, bowel & womb. So, please, take the time to look at the web-links through this site & take the time to help spread awareness amongst your friends & family. And please,please,please, any other women with my condition-we need to hear you too! Especially to make us know we are not alone...

 Adrienne Morris - Woman of the Month June/July 2008

I am a New Zealander by birth, but I have lived in UK for nearly 19 years, with my British husband, and loved it. (He died from MRSA in 2004, after a heart operation.) I was not intending to come back to NZ, as England had become my home, but I had recurrent ovarian cancer in March 2006.

I had ovarian cancer originally in 1996, in England, very suddenly – there were basically no symptoms until last minute. They thought it might only be a cyst, and decided to operate immediately – that same day! By that evening I had had a total hysterectomy, and a colostomy, and within 7 days they knew that it was full blown ovarian cancer. I started on chemotherapy, which should have taken 5 months, but it knocked me very badly, and overall it took nearly 7 months. There weren’t all the steroids that we have today, so nausea and sickness were quite a problem.

But I got over it, and was on 3-monthly check-ups for 3 years, then 6-monthly, then yearly. I was lucky that a year after the original surgery they were able to reverse the colostomy, but I did have another operation for a hernia 2 years later, which had developed from the colostomy site. But after that, everything was clear and in fact I have been extremely healthy for nearly 10 years. Then it suddenly returned in March 2006, literally within 6 weeks of being given the “all-clear”. I had quite a large tumour which was attached to the psoas muscle, a large muscle which controls leg movement, and sitting up and down etc, and the hospital would not operate to remove it – they said it was too big and too dangerous where it was (it wasn't in a "normal gynae area" and it was too "involved" with the muscle). So I had to have chemo for about 4 months and if that shrank the tumour to at least 50%, they would consider surgery.

It didn't - even after two different lots of chemo, which made me extremely ill. In September 2006 I was told that they could only keep giving me chemo - they don't seem to think about the dreadful effects that has, just "give them more chemo" - and on pressing the consultant was told that I had 18 months, maybe only 12, to live. When asked if they could try to remove the tumour, as a last resort, if nothing else, he said he did not think surgery would ever be an option. I asked what would happen, and he said the tumour would eventually spread, attach itself to other organs, particularly the bowel, and it would become strangulated, and eating and drinking would become a problem. It would probably be a “lingering thing”, not quick. I had no choice but to return to NZ - but I had my own business which I had to close, "sell" everything I owned (more like "gave away" really) because I would only have a "spare bedroom" to live in for what time was left to me. I came with my dog, 3 suitcases, and 8 boxes of possessions - mainly my computer, some clothes and a few very precious things.

It was all extremely traumatic. I did not want to leave all my friends. Many of them offered to help look after me when I became very ill, but it wasn’t fair to expect that. I still had to see an oncologist in Jan 07, after arriving here in Dec 06, and she was very efficient and said they would have to put my case to the surgeons. I told her it was very unlikely that they would touch it, as Leeds, the largest teaching hospital in Europe, wouldn't. The surgeon's FIRST response was "We have to get this thing out! Now!" I was then in an awful position because I didn't know if the UK was right, and I should just leave it, or whether the NZ surgeon knew what he was about and could "save my life". I emailed to Leeds to explain what had happened; they came back with all sorts of excuses, and said things like "your situation has changed and maybe it was now suitable for surgery" – this was nonsense - it had only changed in that the tumour was now 25% bigger and even more dangerous!

The NZ oncologist said the surgeon was excellent and would not say he could do it if he couldn't, and to go with it - "he can save your life". And he did!! He operated last April 16th (2007); it all went perfectly well, no problems, no side-effects, and he said it wasn't even technically difficult. He could not understand why Leeds had not done it a year before. By the time he operated, it was already starting to attach itself to other organs, and I was more than 6 months along the road from when I was given 12-18 months, so Leeds was right in that prediction. I had to have another full course of chemo again after surgery, which affected me quite badly, but I am now quite fit and well, my "tumour marker" is now "five" - basically the cancer is non-existent - I am classed as "cancer-free".

My latest scan "looks incredibly normal" and there is no sign of any abnormality near the psoas muscle and no re-growth of the tumour. It is so clear, that they are of the opinion that it may not come back again for possibly a long time. I know it will, sometime, but for the moment, it seems to have gone.

Rachel Deane - Woman of the Month - April / May 2008

Children? There’s plenty of time…

As a woman, one of the greatest gifts that we have within our power is to conceive and give life, experience that life and offer that life to the world. In so doing, we honour that child, ourselves, our loved ones and our ancestors.

I have a brief story to share with respect to fertility and ovarian cancer. I was 32 years old, a medical professional and in a long-term relationship with someone who wanted to have children. Although I had not completely resolved whether or not to make children a part of my life, I was very open to being a parent. I wanted to be in a solid emotional place either on my own or within a relationship – that would be the right time to decide. Because the relationship was not solid, this decision was delayed and having always been in perfect health, active and innately energetic, I assumed that I had plenty of time.

Seven and a half month fetus

During a training ride I injured my back and sought a GP’s advice for physiotherapy. Firstly I had to find a GP. I wasn’t registered with anyone because I was always in good health. And as I had noticed some discomfort in my abdomen over the past few months (probably just a result of the stress and perhaps a bit of irritable bowel syndrome, I thought), I asked him to check my stomach while I was there – two birds with one stone! He examined me briefly and gingerly asked me to make my way directly to radiology, that he would call ahead to let them know I was coming and told me to not stop in between. A young woman was at the door holding it open for me – “huh, what lovely service!” I thought! My ovarian tumor measured 28cm x 12 cm and was larger than the radiologists screen, a fact that she bluntly informed me of. “This thing is the size of a seven and a half month fetus!” she exclaimed in an almost excitable tone. So life for me, my loved ones and any unborn children changed forever in that moment.

There was a substantial waiting list at the private hospital I would have attended but the public hospital could take me sooner, and I would have the same surgeon, so I was placed as high priority. However, a couple of days later the tumor got too large for my pelvic cavity to contain and it ‘popped out’. I started experiencing excruciating pain and it was thought that I was hemorrhaging internally so I was bumped up the hospital list and underwent surgery the next day. The subsequent histology report found the tumor to be malignant and so I was advised to have a full pelvic clearance – including the removal of the other ovary, my uterus and any chance whatsoever of having children of my own. 

Four Options? Single Gay Woman? Doors close…

I needed expert advice. I sought the best fertility experts in the country and was given four options. The first, “do nothing, have the surgery and move on”. The second, “ovarian tissue slices cryogenically preserved” but to date not one child has been conceived in this way and the ovarian tissue they collect may be malignant. Not a winning option. Option three, “go through IVF treatment and cryogenically preserve a fertilized egg”, or option four “go through IVF and preserve an embryo”. This would mean delaying surgery to remove the cancer I now knew I had, go through the expense and uncertain results of IVF, and if there was a donor on record who was prepared to donate to a single gay woman (yes my relationship with a woman had newly dissolved and we were undergoing property separation proceedings). Doors closed. Then I also had the added disadvantage of having to undergo an Ethics Board approval process whereby a panel of ‘experts’ would asses my suitability to be allowed to seek surrogacy. In New Zealand’s history, never has a gay woman ever been granted surrogacy due to perceived ‘unsuitability’ to raise a child. Another doors closed. I didn’t have that fight in me at the time and I reluctantly ‘chose’ option one.

Choice is King

I grew up believing in and living “Choice is King”. Having the freedom to choose who I want to be, where I want to be, whom I want to be with etc is my personal mantra. Therefore, at first, I personally found choosing option one not a choice at all, but a forced choice. I spent a lot of time being bitter about my freedom of choice being taken away. For an as-yet-unchosen child of mine, the grief was overwhelming. I felt a total lack of freedom to choose anything because of this diagnosis and it was being spearheaded by my enforced infertility. I am now 3 years clear of cancer (with just a couple of temporarily elevated CA125 and CA19’s) and I still feel this grief profoundly at times. It is echoed in details like our family’s antique cameo bracelet, which has engraved on the back of each cameo, the initials of the beautiful and powerful women of my lineage – there are two cameos left, one for me and one for my daughter. For a young woman aware of her Maori heritage with its traditional and spiritual emphasis on community and family, I felt an extra burden. Interestingly, the chief of our tribe (Kahungunu, a tall, handsome and hard working man who had nine wives) was a lover, not a fighter, and known as a prolific chief with many, many children.

Discussions with my counselor, Lucy (at the Cancer Society, Auckland), have uncovered the fact that I would have indeed chosen to have children, and further that I still would like children. I may just need to be more creative. However, I am happy to say that I no longer struggle with the sense of disappointing an entire ancestral heritage, although it did take some time!

And I realise now that I actually did have a choice. Also, that I did make a choice. I made a choice for life – my own. And I’m glad I did because now I get to choose lots of things in life. One of my recent choices that I am proud of is to volunteer my service to the management of the Silver Ribbon Foundation for Gynae Cancers. In this capacity I am blessed to have met some of the most wonderfully generous, strong and talented women of any organisation and help deliver a service that enables other women to transform a cancer diagnosis from something that seems impossible to cope with into being manageable. For that, and many other beautiful things, I am truly grateful!

Shaline Das-Fitzgibbon - Woman of the Month - February/March 2008

pureCELEBRATION

On the weekend of my 5th Wedding Anniversary I received my cancer diagnosis - stage 4 Ovarian Cancer (clear cell carcinoma with a ca 125 level of 3900) and a few years left to live. The moment the oncologist said these words she took my hope away. The pain I felt when I heard these words was indescribable and the days and weeks that followed were filled with despair. I have always been an optimist but I gave up and thought that I had to face reality. No cancer diagnosis can ever come at a good time, mine came at a very bad one. My husband is a dentist and was training to become a specialist and this could only be done in Dunedin so we had not spent much time together as a family. For the past 2 years he had been in Dunedin during the week and would fly home to Auckland for the weekends. I had spent my time working full time as a Global Marketing Manager and a single Mum during the weekto our 3 year old son. I thought that my continual exhaustion was due to this situation. We felt that our lives were on hold until the 3 year course had finished, however when we received the cancer diagnosis we realized what putting your life on hold really means. Daniel came home one weekend from Dunedin and never went back.  

Your life as you know it stops and a new one begins based on medical appointments, ct scans, blood tests, operations, chemo cycles, good & bad days physically, high and low days emotionally, losing your hair, etc and the ever present fear.   I thought about all of my life plans and resigned to the fact that those plans would never become reality.  The very worst part of my journey was the guilt that my son would have no mother, my husband would lose his wife, my sister would be without me and my parents would lose a child etc.  

I can not remember exactly when my mind set changed, however I know that because the people around me would not let me give up and showed me they believed I could win against the odds - I began to believe it myself and today I feel positive and wonderful. Every card, gift, phone call, text message, email, visit, offer to cook or baby sit etc gave me encouragement, strength and meaning to help me cope with this disease and claim the life back that I thought I had lost.  The written and spoken words are a treasured gift that I revisit often to keep getting me through this journey.   As expected my husband was indescribably amazing and he managed to stay strong enough for the both of us. He kept pushing me to fight and would not give up, his insistence paid off and I too began to believe I could be an exception. This with the support of all the special people around me gave me the strength that I could not initially find on my own to fight with every ounce of energy that I could muster. The more energy I use to be positive, the more energy I seem to have to remain positive.  

Next month it will be a year since my diagnosis and against the odds I ended my chemo in complete remission. I do not know how I got there but I believe that it’s a combination of the amazing surgeons, medical treatment, the way I chose to fight and the unknown forces.  A cancer diagnosis is liked being drafted to a war that you didn’t enlist for. -you are not prepared  and all of a sudden you have to find the strength in your body and your mind to fight while at the same time your soul has been damaged and the emotional pain is worse than you could have ever imagined possible. However it is possible to do this and come through feeling better than you ever have- I am living proof of this and that is why I have called my story pure celebration.    

One of the most important things that I have learned on this cancer journey is that there are so many little things that are a daily celebration. The little treasures that life brings us everyday, for me this can be my son laughing, enjoying tasty food or watching the sunset and the list goes on –it’s a celebration to be here to enjoy these lovely experiences.  I also make a conscious effort to do something for myself everyday, even if it’s as simple as having a bubble bath or five minutes reading a book.   I make sure that I do these things and totally enjoy them. I find it inspiring to read about cancer patients that have beat the odds and survived in spite of their prognosis, it helps to keep me motivated and re-affirms my attitude that if they could do it then why can’t I.   It takes daily dedication and hard work to feel so great, but it is totally worth it. My husband would say that it’s like training for a marathon, you just need to keep training to build up your stamina and then it will become more natural and that’s exactly how I see it.   Because when you get into that positive mind space life feels so rewarding and enjoyable because you don’t worry about the future you enjoy today.  

Believe me this does not mean that there are not times when I get down or feel scared, I have cried my fair share of tears and still need to at times. Occasionally I get sad and angry that I have to work so hard just to keep myself positive and alive, I sometimes fear that the doctors are right, and I can not count the number of times I wake up in the middle of the night scared and still coming to terms with the fact that I am a cancer patient.   On those nights when I lie awake while it feels like everyone else is sleeping I re-read the survivors stories, I say my positive affirmations, I visualize my healthy body and focus on believing in my ability to beat the odds. These things help me remember that today I am here living and I love my life in spite of the cancer and every time I fall from that positive space it gets easier and easier to climb back in and feel wonderful again. 

Although the medical diagnosis says that my type of cancer will definitely come back to take me away in a few years - I refuse to believe that. I choose to believe with all my heart that there are always exceptions and that I am one of them. Everything about my diagnosis has been rare, the average age for my type of cancer is 20 years older than I am, usually by the time the cancer reaches the final stages the tumors are remarkably large while mine was only 4 cm and did not appear to look like cancer and originally the oncologists thought it was endometriosis, therefore I choose to believe that the final outcome will be unusual too. I can not see how this can do harm because today I smile and laugh and truly enjoy my life. When I was first diagnosed I did not think I would ever have anything to smile about again and laughing seemed unimaginable. But I learned something very important, as cancer patients we are always wishing for more time instead of enjoying the time that we have now.  

I recently took a holiday to Thailand with a group of very special people to celebrate the end of my chemo, if it was not for the cancer we would never have got around to taking that fantastic holiday together. I focus on these rewarding things that the cancer has given me rather than what it has taken from me and the amazing experiences that I have had on this journey. While in Thailand we partook in a run to raise money for children’s cancer, which is another new fulfilling experience.  

Like every cancer journey mine is filled with a lot if uncertainty, but I believe it will have a positive outcome. What I do know for certain is that if people before me had not raised money for cancer I would not be alive today, so please give a donation to the Silver Ribbon Foundation.   The founders, Jackie and Rachel have their own story of starting this foundation in their mother’s memory and I have nothing but admiration for 2 amazing women who are going to make such a difference in New Zealanders journey with gynaecological cancers. The reality is that funding is needed to enhance quality of life with the long term goal of ultimately saving lives. 

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Wendy Cook -  Woman of the Month - December 2007 / January 2008 

In the winter of 2002, Wendy a fit and independent 52 year old woman who has a career first in nursing and then for many years in  health planning and management in Auckland and overseas, had a cough that would not go away.

Wendy went back and forth to her GP had a gastroscopy that found nothing, and her GP suggested a second opinion.

She knew something was wrong when she couldn’t keep up with her friends and had to ask them to ‘slow down’. Her GP talked to a colleague at Green Lane Hospital.

Wendy had a Chest X-ray that showed her right lung was full of fluid, they drained it that day and tested the fluid, the following day the Respiratory Consultant told her she had cancer but not of the lung.

Wendy had Ovarian Cancer  Stage IV, that had invaded her lung and abdomen cavity. Wendy had an operation to remove the tumor, followed by six doses of chemotherapy. While having her chemo, Wendy sat with a drip in one arm and a pile of papers she was working on in the other. She then had three years of ‘normal’ life. 

Wendy attended the ‘Look good, feel good' sessions at the Cancer Society, and went back to work and continued to do very well.

Just before Easter 2006 Wendy presented with what looked like a  nasty ear infection, staggering, nausea and the dizziness - due for a CT Scan that day  her doctor suggested she call 111 to get into hospital fast. Wendy just thought this nothing other than a particularly bad middle ear infection. An MRI scan showed her distress was caused by a walnut-sized brain tumor caused by a rogue ovarian secondary cancer cell.

Wendy was shattered, at first she thought it was the beginning of the end, but then you just keep on going. Her philosophy didn’t change ‘I accept your diagnosis but I reject your prognosis’. The treatment was harder, she was advised to take 3 months off work, steroids got her in shape for another huge operation on her head to remove the tumour and surrounding cyst, followed by 25 doses of radiotherapy .   At this time,  CT scan showed more secondary tumors in her abdomen - post radiation chemotherapy followd for 5 cycles.   This time Wendy had a potential extra weapon, the DMXAA-laced chemotherapy. A locally developed ground breaking cancer trial drug, her Oncologist Michelle Vaughan knew of. The trial involved patients with relapsed ovarian cancer. Auckland only had two slots and in the fall of the electronic dice, Wendy was fortunate to received the drug.    Having this trial drug also made Wendy think about what it may do for women further down the track and what have i got to lose?   With the conventional chemotherapy successive scans showed the tumors shrinking away, with the addition of the DMXAA her tumors appeared to disappear completely from sight.

Wendy was in remission until July 2007 when her CA125 started to rise, by September 2007, a further encapsulated tumour was found by her rectum.   She is currently on chemotherapy and possibly will have surgery early next year, followed by more chemotherapy post-surgery.      

Meanwhile she continues on  - “accepting the prognosis, rejecting the diagnosis”, however, she is very much aware that it will recur.

A big thank you to Barbara Dodd, for this charming, donated photo of Wendy:

Barbara Dodd I Photographer I Captured in Print, ph:  09 521 2116  09 521 2116

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Julie Collins - Woman of the Month - November 2007

Death tapped me on the shoulder

on the last day of Autumn

but I sent him away in a scurry of falling leaves

telling him not to darken my doorway

He is not welcome here..... not yet. 

 

Laughed in his face with my friends

my family, my support

who with despair and dismay offer unconditional love

with open arms and hearts to give me strength He is not welcome here..... not yet.

 

If this is meant to be, though

years numbered on my fingers

should he come again at Spring's end when roses burst

anew

then let me be prepared ~ dignified

to let him take me home to God.

Jools, June 2006

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Leonie Coates - Woman of the Month - September 2007 

Leonie is the reason the Silver Ribbon Foundation for Gynaecological Cancer was established. It was her wish that assistance be available to women in her situation to enhance their quality of life, to share and to inform healthy women of their risks.

The following is the Obituary that appeared in the Christchurch Star Newspaper shortly after Leonie's death:

Leonie Coates died at Nurse Maude Hospice on May 22 2006.  Leonie died of Ovarian Cancer, referred to as the ‘silent killer’. It was her wish that this disease receive more public attention to help save lives. In 2005 Leonie wrote a document entitled ‘My life’, referred to below.  Leonie was born on the 10^th of April 1949, in Christchurch .  She was the third of four children - sister of Paul, Carol and Wayne.

Leonie was married to Allan, and they celebrated their 38th wedding anniversary on May 11 2006. Leonie has 2 daughters, Rachel and Jackie, and a son Paul.  She has 2 Granddaughters whom she adored, Harriett and Grace.

Leonie attended Linwood North Primary and Linwood High School .  Early on Leonie worked in several pharmacies, including Wainoni, Riccarton, and Beckenham.  She also worked in Godfreys Laboratory.  Leonie writes that her work places were a source of great friends – particularly Barrington and Halswell Medical Centers and later at Harcourts’ City and Beckenham offices. Leonie’s later career change to Real Estate was courageous and she was a real success.

Leonie wrote of wonderful family holidays in Timaru, and the Marlborough Sounds. In the last few years Leonie and Allan shared wonderful holidays in their caravan at Gore Bay.  

In her story Leonie names many people who have been close, treasured friends. She made time for everyone, even when she was very ill. Leonie’s, “My life” story contains very loving, personal messages to her closest family.  She was happiest when with her family, especially her granddaughters.  There was much fun to be had at school holiday time – baking, camping, movies, the park. Leonie had a great sense of humour - mischevious , witty and cheeky!  She was assertive, very capable, elegant and stylish, and above all, beautiful.

Leonie was devastated at having to be parted from her family through her illness.  Leonie showed tremendous courage and resilience in the face of cancer.  Through this time she was able to show the world that she was even more amazing than we already knew.  Leonie wrote: “It seems so unfair but I suppose that’s life”. 

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