Seek the Gift of Clarity

For over fifty years, I trusted science. I worked diligently to become an advanced practice nurse and maintained certification through ongoing education and participation in supervised healthcare experiences that continue to challenge knowledge and practice.

Where it begins: A lifetime of caring

I incorporated carefully standardized physical and mental status exams, first-hand patient reports, and data to quantify the care I provided. After all no two of us are entirely alike. Consequently, it is clear that no cookie-cutter treatment would work for everyone.

My academic training served me well as there was always an underlying awareness to pay attention to the whole person. Following this practice keeps the patient's experience central to their care and ensures patients and families have a voice.

In my personal life, I admit that I long to live in the gray.

It is a relief to avoid the tendency to mire in an "either/or" existence. [Perhaps a leftover of my East Village Hippie days.] Instead, in human relationships, I honor the ability of the people around me who see things differently and are not afraid to speak. Being open to different perspectives about real-life issues creates a richness and calm that we don't always need to be right or have all the answers.

Surprise!

Despite my best efforts, cancer aired its ugly head in August 2018. I instantly reverted to learning all I could about Stage 3C Ovarian Cancer, even questioning the doctor's selection of stages. Why 3C when perhaps the reality was Stage 3 or even 4? As you can guess, I asked for the data. I connected all the dots as I fully understand the background of cancer also represents treatment and prospects for life expectancy.

Being ever so careful about matters of health and prevention, it shocked us all for me to end up with an advanced stage of cancer. But as our readers know - "Why not me or any of us?" Cancer seems to know no limits to class, race, color, or ethnic background. So despite a trail of symptoms, multiple physician contacts, and an assortment of tests and exams, I underwent surgery for a herniarepair, only to emerge as a cancer patient. Yes, you heard that right. Until the knife opened my abdomen, my surgeon had no idea.

The need for clarity

With my husband and one son in the room, the next question flowed out of my mouth without warning, "Just how long can I expect to live?" It took my breath away when my oncologist firmly responded, "Four years." I whispered back to him alone, "Not enough."

While I was already plotting and negotiating for more time, I was struck with an awareness. Grief entered our space that day. Mourning loss has no timetable, nor is it selective of one event. There is no one and done. In truth, the anticipation of my loss creates another accumulation of grief from unresolved losses in our family. So we held tight, ped all the chatter, and choked back the reality of yet another loss.

Are there any sure things?

Following a usual coping style, I started to look for something upon which I could depend. The effort amounted to a great deal of bargaining and a desire to create distance from what I felt in this new sick role. CA125 labs were undependable, physical symptoms were questionable, and chemotherapy made me even more ill.

After two rounds of chemotherapy, each lasting six months and a year of immunotherapy, I was granted a reprieve. I was sent away "to enjoy life" with only moderate monitoring with blood tests and a six-month PET scan. Some call this remission, but somehow I knew better.

I know that there is a season for everything, and this could be the end of mine. However, this does not alter my ambition as I renew my desire to fill my life with loving people. I will be forever grateful for the well-deserved respect for social media, which brings me close to many of you.

Communication and sharing are key to acceptance

Out of the innocence of unknowing, my family wanted to believe that surgery followed by chemotherapy would resolve cancer once and for all. Instead, they saw first-hand the painful episode of frequent rounds of infusions along with devastation from side effects. Their fear intensified when I again faced a reoccurrence and a decision to restart a new chemotherapy plan.

Many of my sisters with advanced ovarian cancer quickly learn that chemotherapy may offer time without guarantees of cure.

I believe that cure may be close for some of us, and time will allow great things to come to us. So there it is folks. I live for days, weeks, and months to appreciate life, love those around me, and live my purpose - to support others to live rich and glorious lives until their end.

Be sure to define your Purpose; Reconcile any painful moments and Love your "Peeps."

Editor’s Note: We are extremely saddened to say that on August 9, 2024, Ellen Reed passed away. Ellen’s advocacy efforts and writing continue to reach many. She will be deeply missed.