Let's Talk It Ovar - Stories
By Survivors - Family - Friends & Others

I have been asked to write about my sister Karen. I don't even know where to start. To even be in this position of writing a story about my sister makes me sad and angry. Even after over 4 years, I'm still angry. Angry that my sister ignored her symptoms. Angry that the doctors misdiagnosed those symptoms. Angry that I didn't know anything about ovarian cancer because if I had, I would have dragged Karen to her doctor and to the next doctor and the next until one of them understood what was going on in her body And finally, angry because my sister didn't tell anyone how sick she was because it would have allowed me to tell her over and over and over how much she meant to me. But, that was Karen. She lived her life taking care of others, making others laugh, shielding her loved ones from the pain of knowing how sick she was, baking cookies for the other cancer patients having chemo rather than focusing on herself and her needs. Maybe that is admirable but that also may be why she didn't seek medical attention when her symptoms first appeared.

Karen was the middle child, somewhat overweight and not the best student. Karen loved to party and always had loads of friends. She never treated me as "the younger sister" or a nuisance but included me with her friends even though I was 5 years younger. We grew up in New Jersey within 1 mile of a small private liberal arts college. While Karen was in high school, I can still remember her taking me with her to the movies, parties and shopping with her friends. It was Karen who nurtured the seeds of friendship between us at such an early age.

When Karen went off to college at Michigan State, it left a void in my life. The State of Michigan seemed like a world away from New Jersey to me. Fortunately for me but unfortunately for Karen, she partied too hard and flunked out after the first year. My parents weren't happy but I was thrilled! I had my best friend back home with me. After a year of going to the local College to better her grades, Karen transferred to THE Ohio State University.

While she was at THE Ohio State University, I visited Karen during my senior year in high school during my winter break. During that week, Karen arranged a blind date for me. Not only was my sister my best girlfriend but she also found my husband for me. So, after graduating high school, I attended Ohio State and Karen and I were together again. After her graduation Karen taught for a few years in Columbus and then moved back to New Jersey. After a year of teaching in New Jersey she took an opportunity to move to Australia and teach there for 2 years. Before we knew it, those 2 years turned into 30 years with only a once a year trip back to the States to see all of us.

I don't even remember when Karen told us that she had ovarian cancer. What I remember is that she had a distended stomach, discomfort with gas, general abdominal discomfort and aches and pains for a very long time. I urged her to go to the doctor but Karen never had time to take care of herself. She was always planning for visitors who would stay for weeks at a time or planning a special dinner for her sons and their friends or planning a party for Christmas. Her house was always open to anyone and everyone, especially someone from the States, and the refrigerator and extra freezer in the garage were always full. I know my reaction to the news that she had ovarian cancer was not realistic. She said that she was going to be OK and that it was no big deal. It wasn't until I had a doctor's appointment with my OB/GYN that I realized that ovarian cancer was really serious. Dr. Anne Ruch told me that at stage IV Karen's chances of living beyond 5 years were minimal. I remember leaving Dr. Ruch's office thinking that she didn't know what she was talking about. Unfortunately, she did. Karen died 2 months short of the 5th year. But, until her last day on earth, Karen lived life to the fullest, never letting any of us fully know the extent of her illness.

I remember that during one treatment session Karen had to be admitted to the hospital. She had lost her hair, including her eyebrows and was depressed because she didn't know how to draw a "proper" eyebrow. After hearing that, I suggested that she draw one single eyebrow in the center of her forehead. Of course, she said I was nuts and why would she do that? My answer was, "Why not? Who cares about being "proper" when you have cancer?" So, she drew one single eyebrow in the center of her forehead. It cheered her up and when the word got around the hospital floor, nurses and other employees came to visit her all day just laughing at her silliness.

During her trip to the States in 2003, one year before her death, we went to the Florida Keys to snorkel. There were 7 of us who rented a boat to take us out to a reef. Karen didn't take a bathing suit as she was afraid of the boat and certainly wasn't going to snorkel. Everyone left the boat to snorkel but Karen & I. I coaxed her into jumping into the water, holding on to the ladder and just trying it. I wouldn't let the fact that she didn't have a bathing suit stop her. I talked her into going into the water in her clothes. We tread water by the boat for a few minutes until her fear of snorkeling lessened and then she was off and swimming for the entire time we were allowed. Did Karen care that she walked the streets of Key Largo in dripping wet clothes? Not at all and neither did the rest of us. We were used to Karen being a little wacky. We laughed about that day for a long time.

There are so many stories about Karen's wackiness and silliness from her having Post It notes all over the kitchen cabinets to remind her of something or counting her pills every night on our mother's dining room table, to her keeping a ledger of every single dime she spent when she was in the States, down to a pack of gum she might buy. When she and I were together we did nothing but laugh. Other people would look at us as if we were aliens as only Karen and I could see the humor in whatever it was. We didn't care. We understood each other so well that we could read each others minds and see into each others hearts.

I honestly don't know which was worse, the side effects from the many, many different types of chemotherapy Karen went through or the cancer itself. It appears that the Australian equivalent to our FDA approves many more drugs than ours does as Karen changed drugs often during those 5 years. Besides the "normal" nausea, lack of energy, fever, and aches and pains that women suffer through, some of the chemos Karen took made her so dizzy she couldn't get out of bed for fear of falling, they gave her excruciating headaches, and the last one (which is not approved here in the States) literally burned the skin off of her face, palms of her hands, and "bottom". Two weeks before she died Karen was bragging to me that her skin was rejuvenating and that she would have a younger looking face than me and she didn't even have to pay for it. What she and the doctors didn't realize was that the last chemo literally burned her organs and ultimately burned her intestines apart.

Through it all, even the last week of her life, she joked around, wanting to put others at ease. Everyone loved her. The day of her funeral the elementary school where Karen taught closed so that everyone, including the principal, secretary, teachers, parents and students could attend her funeral. It was a true testament to the how people were drawn to her.

Karen was my protector when I was young, my best girlfriend as we grew older, my hero for the last 5 years of her life and my inspiration since she is gone.

Amy Chaiklin, a 4 year survivor has a motto...."For every battle, there is an ending. For every ending, there is a beginning. For every beginning, there is success. When we have success, this battle will end." Karen's battle ended but that ending was the catalyst to a new beginning in my life. For the past 4 years I have tried to honor my sister's memory by working towards helping survivors and raising awareness. Its now my passion to help make this beginning a success so that the battle against ovarian cancer will some day end.