Factual Storytelling Exercise: Become More Aware

Most sixteen-year-olds like to be surprised by a car or a new phone for their birthday, however my surprise was nothing like any of those. I had a large cystic mass growing in my ovary. Surprise!

It had taken almost a month to get to this diagnoses; I first started showing unusual symptoms of nausea, vomiting, headaches, and severe abdominal pains which made it hard to sit, back in April 2009. After blood tests and all sorts of medications, I finally had an ultrasound where we found a large cystic mass of 950cc in my ovary. If that wasn't shock enough for a sixteen-year-old on her birthday, I was told to be cautious of my movements as to not to burst it. At that point of time there was no way of telling if it was cancerous yet. I had a ticking time-bomb inside of me for the next six weeks. The surgeon wanted to wait the six weeks to try and shrink it with medication.

I spent the rest of my birthday at home moulding over the ton of bricks that had just been thrown at me. I didn't know how to break the news to people, so I decided to only tell a few I trusted and knew would be supportive.

I attended school during those six weeks, it was second term and exams were on the horizon. As well as exams, I had a MRI booked to show if the cyst was getting smaller. My body was telling me otherwise, I looked as though I was five months pregnant. On June 15^th I missed school, which wasn't unusual for me anymore, and went for my MRI. It was the most excruciating pain I had ever endured. Normally a MRI would be pain free, but the lead board they put on my stomach pressed down on the cyst. I had to bear with the pain for half an hour, by the end I was inhumanly white from the pain. The MRI showed that the cyst had grown to 2165cc and had taken over my whole ovary.

I was due for surgery the next week. I had to rush to get all my assignments and exams done before the end of term. Since I could no longer sit down on a chair, I had to do all my exams separately from everyone else and on my knees.

As students celebrated the exams being over and planned their two week break from school, I underwent surgery to remove the cyst, my ovary, fallopian tube and appendix. I spent three weeks recovering from the surgery. One week was spent in hospital doing exercises with a physical therapist learning to use my stomach muscles again to walk. The surgeon had to cut my stomach muscles to get the cyst out. He also had to make a 23cm incision from hip to hip, to get the cyst out without it bursting. The lab results confirmed that it was a Cystic Struma Ovarii and thankfully it was benign.

I went back to school as though nothing had happened and listened to everyone's stories about their holidays and all the fun they had. It was hard to listen to them and hear about everything I missed out on. I thought to myself, 'if you only knew what I just went through', but that was all in the past. I was better, able to sit again and finished the school year still with good grades.

However, I was celebrating too soon. By November 2009, my symptoms had returned again. I masked the symptoms with pain killers and was given nausea wafers that people having chemo therapy are given, but they only worked for a few hours at a time. In February 2010, I started seeing a new doctor who did a blood test of my hormones and it showed that I had three and a half times the maximum normal level of Prolactin. That was cause for alarm because that amount of hormone usually indicated there is a tumor growing in the pituitary gland. I was referred onto an endocrinologist who sent me for a MRI Brain and Pituitary Fossa. I again thought to myself, 'how unlucky can I be to have two tumors in less than a year?'

Thankfully the results showed I didn't have a tumor, however it still didn't solve what was wrong with me. The endocrinologist put me a cocktail of drugs including a heavy dosage of anti-depressants, strong migraine medication, and other medications to try and suppress the symptoms. The mixture of drugs sent my body spiraling out of control. My emotions were everywhere and I had no motivation what-so-ever. This went on for almost nine weeks and during my last year of high school. It affected my grades at school and my social life. I wasn't leaving the house very often anymore and was barely invited to events by my friends. I left that endocrinologist and was slowly taken off all the medications.

Our school had a Leo's club which I knew fundraised money for charities and gave back to the community. I really wanted to get more involved in my last year. I went to one of their meetings and it was the only one I ever went to, but I was happy with what I achieved at that meeting. It was the meeting where they chose four charities to give a donation. Before I went to the meeting I had a pipe dream to go up in front of the whole school and talk about what I went through the year before. I wanted to make people aware of ovarian cancer and the foundation here in Australia because I knew a lot of people didn't know about it. So instead of the whole school, I stood up in front of this club and asked them to give their donation to Ovarian Cancer Australia. I'm sure they only chose my suggestion because of my sentimental story, but I did it for the right reason.

The search for my diagnosis continued, two months on from the drug cocktail I was referred onto my second Obstetrician & Gynaecologist who diagnosed me with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. However it still didn't explain my symptoms, so he referred me to another Obstetrician & Gynaecologist to see if I had endometriosis. The surgeon decided a diagnostic laparoscopy was my only option now.

August 18^th 2010, I had my laparoscopy. The results from the surgery showed I had adhesions attached to some of my organs and attaching the large intestine to the pelvic wall. The surgeon cut the majority of the adhesions, but didn't cut the ones attached to the large intestine because it was out of his specialised field. The result of a mistake could have been life-threatening.

This occured right before QCS, the big test of the year. Everyone had been practicing for and I had gone to all the classes for the test and painfully tried to sit through all the practice exams, so I could take the proper exam. I still was unable to sit QCS even after the operation because I was in too much pain from the uncut adhesions. Most people would be ecstatic to get out of the QCS test, but I wanted to prove to myself I could succeed; I never got the chance.

The surgeon referred me onto another surgeon who specialised in the field of colorectal surgery, however he said the adhesions weren't detrimental to my health. Unsatisfied with that surgeon, I went to another surgeon from the same field who agreed with the other surgeon. I was back to square one, it was my last term at high school and was not enjoying it like the other people in my grade.

It was almost the end of the year and I had to do all my last exams on my knees again. I went to my school formal severely nauseous and spent most of the night outside watching the people inside having fun, while I tried stable my nausea.

I couldn't even enjoy my graduation. I stood off to the side of my grade and watched on as all my classmates graduated together. I can literally say I was an outsider. I wasn't able to go to schoolies either, that week I went back to my second surgeon and pleaded with him to find someone who would do the surgery to free me from the agony.

Finally on November 29^th 2010, I saw the surgeon I had wished for. He told me, the adhesions which were attaching the pelvic wall to the large intestine were right on one of my main veins. This would make the surgery risky, but I was over the pain and accepted the risks. I just wanted to be free; I was scheduled for surgery for the following day. From that surgery the surgeon removed the adhesions and found more wrapped around parts of my digestive tract.

I went back to my old high school to present some gifts of gratitude to my teachers. As I gave one of my teachers her gift, she asked me what was wrong with me for the last two years. It then dawned on me that I had never really explained to the majority of my teachers what was happening with me through the years. They had confirmation from the school's office that there was something wrong, but they had never asked me about it.

Maybe it's not part of a teacher's role or there is some rule that says teachers can't ask students about their personal lives. However if this is the case, how are students supposed to know they should be acknowledging other people's lives when they don't have role models (teachers) doing it?

Students need to be made aware of other people's lives and know they are not the only person on this planet. There are people around them that need support and for someone to hear their stories.

I still see students from my grade now who were oblivious to what happened to me. It just goes to show, you never know what someone else is going through until you take even just a minute to open your eyes and ask, “Are you ok?”