Faced with the possibility of Ovarian cancer can be scary, especially when it happens in your 50s. Ovarian is sneaky, with little to no apparent symptoms ahead of its game. The risk increases as we age, and in your fifties, you face a higher chance of developing this vicious silent aggressive. As it took my grandmother away at the tender age of 52, not only were my chances of genetic mutations (BRCA1 or BRCA2) increased, but this only fortified the certainty of taking action.
Emotional Rescue
The Silent One
There was only one option. A hysterectomy was the best risk-reduction strategy
For me, there was only one option. Having had increased surveillance for the past seven years, a hysterectomy was the best risk-reduction strategy. After my initial scare and various consultations and scans, including gynaecologists, oncologists, and genetic counsellors, I awaited with anticipation my forthcoming date for surgery.
It all happened quickly, and despite my intentions to prepare myself, it’s hugely emotional. On the removal of ovaries, a sudden onset of menopausal symptoms, such as hormonal changes, can affect your body. I considered myself lucky in as much as I was post-menopausal, so I experienced little to no additional menopausal side effects. Now, here’s something to bear in mind. Potential symptoms like hot flashes, mood swings, and vaginal dryness it’s not always the case as in mine, but there are those fantastic HRT therapies that all my friends rave about that promise to make your life easier.
There’s a total finality to the whole episode. Ironically, it dawned on me the morning after that I was in the hospital where I came to when I was pregnant, my children had their infant and children-related operations, and now here I was full circle. Never to be repeated.
Losing your reproductive organs can be challenging, and it is essential to have a support system in place – friends, family, and, in some cases, counselling to help you navigate these emotions and cope with the changes.
It’s not a caesarean as some try to play down but a major operation and as such needs time to heal. Other than the physical pain, quite considerable, I’m afraid to share, there’s the complete and utter uselessness I experienced. I’m a busy person. Constantly juggling numerous projects, activities, or social occasions into the mix. The idea of being laid up for weeks presented itself as a welcome break at first but soon became a frustration and quite unbearable. Not even being able to get down the stairs for a cup of tea or worse, get back up! No lifting, limited exercise and reliance on others was a new experience.
I discovered Netflix and pored over dozens of series, films, and documentaries. I couldn’t begin to recall half of them, but it passed the time. I started planning and had time to rest properly; there’s nothing like forced rest with the ultimate excuse. Friends phoned, friends called in with flowers and cards, and unexpected acts of kindness and compassion forged new friendships I had not expected, which was all very wonderful.
The icing on the cake was peace of mind.
I spare a thought for my poor grandmother who without the benefit of modern science was dealt a different fate and a reminder that we all must take gratitude for the world we live in today.
