28 Days and Counting: My Journey to Prevent Ovarian Cancer

I am now on my last pack of birth control pills. With my surgery now less than a month away, I knew there would be a "last," but I wasn't prepared -- at all -- for how it would make me feel to open that final, little package.

My husband and I met right after I graduated high school. When I started college a few months later, I went to the cheapest clinic I could find to get on the pill. My memory of that appointment was that it was fun and exciting; I felt grown-up in my exclusive relationship and I could smugly ignore all those warnings about STDs. I was with Mark and we were thrilled. I've been on the pill - and with Mark -- ever since.

The only time I've gone off the pill was to have children. Just a few months before each child was conceived, I stopped taking them so I could safely get pregnant without the added hormones in my body. After Jake and Lexi were born, I went right back on them.

I started taking the pill to avoid getting pregnant. Later, after my mother died of ovarian cancer, there was an added, unexpected benefit; my doctor told me that being on the pill also reduced my chances of getting ovarian cancer and I should stay on them as along as I could.

Let's do the math. I started the pill when I was 18 and now I'm 37. I've been on the pill for 19 years - more than half my life. That is quite a habit to break. I've had to remember taking them before I go to bed. I've had to pack them into suitcases when I travel. I've had to frantically call my doctor to give me a new prescription when I misplace them. And, each and every time I pop a pill, I am reminded of my sexuality and that I am in love and married to my best friend.

So, when I opened that last pack of pills, I shouldn't have been so surprised that I started to cry.

Taking the pill, after all, is a reminder that I am young, vital - and can, in fact, still get pregnant. It's a reminder that I am a woman. There's a part of me that's in mourning.

There is no doubt that I will struggle with this change in my daily routine. But perhaps I will learn, over time, to relish the freedom of not being strapped to a pack of pills.

And, I will have to learn to celebrate my femininity, and my relationship with my husband, in new, unexpected ways.

I'm ready for the challenge.

Comments

[PSHNYC]

Dear Allison,

I'm sorry you have had to confront the hideousness of ovarian cancer - first with the loss of your Mom and now with the loss of your ovaries. I am an ovarian cancer survivor who was diagnosed at age 39 shortly before I was to be married. My new hubby and I wanted children. Alas, that was not to be. Radical surgery & chemo saved my life, but not my ability to reproduce. But, I can honestly tell you that I do not feel any less feminine, desireable, in love with my husband/best friend, excited about my life or anything else because I don't have my "female parts." My life was saved when I lost my ovaries and anything that has resulted as a consquence, pales in comparison. Forget about missing the pill or any of your reproductive organs. Think only about the fact that you're doing what you need to do so that you will not miss out on one minute of raising your children. Best of luck.
Pamela in New York City

[ebbtide]

Have your husband get a vasectomy. It is not all up to you.

[amyscol]

I've been following your story and wanted to tell you that I wish you the best. I think what you are doing is very brave.