“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.”

— Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

One thing that’s become evident to me as a cancer survivor is that we all respond to cancer differently. Our response depends primarily on our own personality and past life experiences. How we deal with a life-threatening illness will differ according to our personal values and may also be connected to how we have responded to crises in the past. It’s also important to note that we each have our own toolbox of resiliency to work with. Cancer is extremely personal, so our response tends to be personal too. This has definitely been my experience as an ovarian cancer survivor. I’ve learned a great deal about who I truly am as a result of my emotional and psychological reactions to having gynecological cancer. It’s been a gradual process during the course of which I’ve become more nurturing and accepting of myself.

Posing with my mom and brother Ray at the annual Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope. The nationwide event is held each September.

The moment I was diagnosed with cancer I entered a psychological realm where wanting to know everything about the disease alternated with fear and aversion. I realized it was solemn news when a week after my hysterectomy the phone range and my surgeon wanted to see me immediately. As I sat in my gynecologist’s office on that autumn afternoon, he was thoughtful enough to provide me with my own copy of the surgical pathology report, a crucial document outlining the specifics of my uterine and ovarian cancer. He estimated that it would be a couple of weeks before I could have a consultation with a team of oncologists at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. In the coming days I developed a love-hate relationship with the information that I had been given. Numb and in shock, I read over the three-page report repeatedly, meticulously researching the strange and frightening medical terminology.

Simply explained, every cell in the body has a tightly regulated system that dictates when it needs to grow, mature and eventually die off. Cancer occurs when cells lose this control and divide and proliferate indiscriminately. Theories, treatments and possible explanations for cancer are abundant. They range from the factual or medically proven to the bizarre, absurd and downright dangerous. Regrettably there are a few contemptible individuals who knowingly try to profit from cancer patients or exploit our physical, emotional, and psychological needs. When I access printed materials or the abundance of online resources that are available, I remain highly selective. When I started treatment I immediately came to appreciate that the most specific and reliable information was coming from my oncologist and the incredibly skilled medical professionals on my cancer care team.

Above all, as time has passed I’ve come to trust myself, I feel like the foremost expert on my body and the disease that’s invaded it, Decisions concerning my treatment have always been made in conjunction with my oncology team, however most final verdicts rest with me. For example, in the fall of 2012 I made the excruciatingly difficult decision to forego treatment with radiation, opting for observation instead. The risks of pelvic radiation include the possibility of rectal bleeding; even worse, some patients will experience a bowel blockage or a permanent change in bowel or bladder habits after their treatments are finished.

For most cancer patients the benefits of undergoing radiation outweigh these serious risks. But due to my personal medical history it’s almost certain that it would have posed a substantial danger. The radiation oncologist informed me that due to my previous bowel blockage during chemotherapy the possibility of severe complications occurring would be much higher than average. Besides, I was undeniably exhausted from three consecutive abdominal surgeries in addition to five cycles of carboplatin, at the time I felt I could endure little more.

Finally, no one has the right to tell you how to respond emotionally to your cancer or to lecture you about how you should live your life after a diagnosis. Early in my cancer journey I was confronted by a couple of individuals who insinuated that I should not allow cancer to change my life. How could I have not changed? I’m not going back to the way I was before I had cancer. I see that as a waste of all that I have been through. As a cancer patient I expect understanding and acceptance from family, friends and health care professionals. I believe that I should be able to express my emotions without being judged by others, so naturally this remained my philosophy when I got cancer. As an introvert I sometimes struggle with fitting in and belonging, so I’ve become involved with supportive organizations such as Ovarian Cancer Canada and Wellspring.