Losing Friends in the Ovarian Cancer Community

When I first searched the internet for other young women living with an ovarian cancer diagnosis, I had no idea that I would discover such a far-reaching community. I quickly learned that statistically speaking, I am 1 in 78 women diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Over time, I encountered others with similar diagnosis stories from all over the world – many of whom have even lived in the same city as myself.

The truth is, the more you seek out connecting with other patients (also commonly referred to in the ovarian cancer community as “teal sisters”), the more survivors you will encounter along the way. And in turn, you simultaneously become an active participant in this worldwide network of all sorts of people affected by ovarian cancer – patients, caregivers, medical providers, scientists, researchers, as well as friends and family of loved ones who have been impacted by the disease.

But unfortunately, as one of the major downsides of having a “cancer community,” you will inevitably also experience loss. With that comes an immense amount of survivor’s guilt and a constant fear of the unknown.

The passing of friends

I will never forget the first time I heard the news of a fellow teal sister’s passing. Her name was Brittany Crosby. Just like myself, she was diagnosed with stage 3C low-grade serous ovarian cancer at just 29 years old. She found my profile on Instagram shortly after I publicly shared my diagnosis story for the first time. I realized she was a major advocate and well-known storyteller within the ovarian cancer community, and despite having a whopping 15,000 followers, she reached out to me first. Needless to say, I was extremely flattered.

Over the weeks to come, we had some casual, brief exchanges with one another – mostly sharing dessert recipes and drooling over each other’s baked creations. But I could just tell that she was “my type of person” and that we would get along fabulously in real life if we were ever given the chance to meet.

Sadly, just 2 weeks after our last conversation, Brittany suddenly passed away. It was the day after Thanksgiving, and the news felt like a slap in the face. I had already known about the grim reality behind advanced ovarian cancer survival rates; I just never thought I would witness it first-hand, especially so soon after going public with my own diagnosis story.

Comparing your experience to others

Once you’ve experienced losing a teal sister, it becomes impossible not to compare your own situation – especially when your diagnosis appears to be very similar. You think to yourself, “She seemed healthy and was declared ‘No Evidence of Disease (NED).’ Could this also happen to me in 1 or 2 years from now?” With the loss of Brittany, I came to realize that the statistics are horrifyingly true – no matter the age of diagnosis.

Since Brittany’s passing, it has also become incredibly difficult to celebrate my own personal milestones, like cancer anniversaries (also known as “cancerversaries”), or reaching remission/NED status. I almost feel like I am gloating or bragging. But more than anything, I feel guilty that I am still here and Brittany is not – in addition to many other women I have befriended and lost to cancer over the past 4 years.

Allied together

In all honesty, I have never felt so much purpose and fulfillment being able to help and support other cancer patients. And I feel an unconditional amount of love and support in return. But at the same time, I have never felt so much sadness over the loss and hardships of people I have never technically met before in person.

Yet regardless of whether we’ve met in real life, or even had a single full conversation, I truly believe that simply sharing an ovarian cancer diagnosis is enough reason to feel allied to one another. The connections I have developed via social media and in-person since my diagnosis are indescribably meaningful and irreplaceable, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world – the sad moments and all.