Relay for Life: Carol Atwood’s success

by Earlene Ward - Sierra Star Correspondent

— Kat’s Kreations

Mrs. Atwood had completed two chemotherapy treatments and was two days away from her third when she married Bill Atwood August 21, 1993. The full head of hair is her own. Dr. Atwood shaved his head so they could be bald together, but she did not lose her hair.

 

Undergoing chemotherapy treatments for ovarian cancer “wasn’t a picnic” but it wasn't 1/100th as bad as Carol Atwood had thought it would be.

The images portrayed in the media are not accurate, Mrs. Atwood says. “It’s not a picnic but it was not anything like I expected.”

There are medical advances all the time and new medications that relieve the patient of some of the side effects that were prevalent in the past.

“It’s just not as bad as you think – it’s not a cake walk, but it's not so bad,” she says as she looks back on her experience in 1993 and 1994.

 

Getting on with life

Mrs. Atwood and her husband, Bill, believe it is important for cancer patients to see a survivor, such as Mrs. Atwood, getting on with her life.

Hearing encouragement and positive stories is so important, they agree.

“There are a lot of positive stories out there and people need to hear them,” Mrs. Atwood says.

It really made her angry to hear what she calls “the pregnant-woman-syndrome stories” when she was a cancer patient.

Just as some people feel they must tell a pregnant woman horror stories about giving birth, some people seem to think it is important to tell a cancer patient about some relative's terrible experience with cancer.

 

Success

Dr. and Mrs. Atwood did not want to hear those stories, and today they make it a point to tell of Mrs. Atwood’s successful bout with cancer.

Dr. Atwood comments that the survivor rate is to the point now that the “Big C” isn't a tombstone for people. Mrs. Atwood participated in the Navigator support program for cancer patients for a time.

However, most of the patients were fighting breast cancer so it was hard for her to relate to their experiences.

“A patient needs to talk to a former patient (who had the same type of cancer). They are the only ones who can tell you what it's like,” she says.

Mrs. Atwood grew up with a realization of what cancer could do to a family.  Her mother died of ovarian cancer one day after her 30th birthday when Mrs. Atwood was seven years old. She was aware of the cancer history in her family, therefore she started having annual checkups in her mid-teens.

In mid-May 1993, when she was 32 years old, she had her annual Pap smear and examination and it indicated all was well. However, she did not feel just right and she was tired; she had the sense that there was something wrong.

She returned to her doctor and, because of her family history, a blood test was ordered. On the Tuesday after Memorial Day, she learned the results - the numbers were “through the roof.” She was referred to a gynecologist that same day and she was scheduled for surgery the following Monday, June 7, 1993. That Tuesday, she was told she had a tumor the size of a large tangerine or a “cheap orange.”

For the next few days, Mrs. Atwood, who was not yet married to Bill Atwood, says she just kept “incredibly busy.” She says either they did not tell her, or she chose not to acknowledge, that she had cancer.

When surgery was performed, the tumor had grown to the size of a cantaloupe and they found that it was malignant. She had a complete hysterectomy and her appendix was removed. She had what is referred to as a Stage 3 tumor, which means other organs are involved.

In her case, the other organs included the appendix, which was removed, and other areas where the tumor could be scraped away.

Carol had begun dating Bill Atwood earlier in 1993. He vividly recalls receiving the telephone call from one of Carol's friends the evening of the surgery. “I kept saying it wasn't fair,” he remembers. “It was inconvenient. You finally meet ‘the one’ and then cancer pops up.” He says hearing about Carol's cancer was “one of those times you know your feelings are right.”

Mrs. Atwood said she never asked “Why?” She goes on to explain that “there is no why. You can devote that energy to going forward.”

She was scheduled for six rounds of intravenous chemotherapy once a month for six months. She remembers that she and Dr. Atwood had laughed about her being bald by Halloween and, they decided, they could dress as Coneheads.

Even though she says losing her hair was the least of her worries, she decided to be practical and buy a wig ahead of time so it would be there when she needed it. Dr. Atwood visited her one afternoon and after hearing her say several times that losing her hair wouldn’t bother her, he decided it was bothering her.

On a lark, he says, he went out and had his head shaved. He donned a baseball cap and went back to her house, doffed his hat to her and yelled “surprise!” She took one look at him and said, “You're nuts.”

As it turned out, she never did lose so much hair that anyone could notice. On their wedding day, August 21, 1993, the full head of hair was her own. The groom was still bald.

She remembers taking her wig with her when she shopped for her wedding veil so she could be sure the veil was not going to be so heavy it would pull her wig off.

Some wondered if they should be married while she was still undergoing chemotherapy. A doctor had told Dr. Atwood that there was a 30-percent chance she would be alive in a year. They were undaunted. Dr. Atwood says his attitude was that if she did die within a year, they would have had a good year. If she beat the disease and could look forward to many more years, they would have had a good first year.

They had to plan the wedding around her chemotherapy treatments. She had completed two treatments and was about ready for her third when they married. They were married on a Saturday, had a one-day honeymoon and then she went for her treatment on Monday.

 

“There are just a few days during the chemo that you can plan on having a good day,” she says. During another one of those times when she was having good days, she was a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding.

Several months before the cancer was found, she had gone to a financial planner. One of the suggestions was that she buy a disability insurance policy. Because she had that policy, she did not have to work during the chemotherapy treatments. She says that it was a wonderful thing for her to be able to concentrate all of her energy on getting well.

After the six rounds of chemotherapy, everything looked clean when they did a second-look surgery. However, the doctor chose to extend the treatments by four months. Dr. Atwood recalls that this was devastating to her. “You play this numbers game,” he says. “You are half way through, you have one more to go and so forth.” To have that changed was hard to accept.

Her last treatment was April 18, 1994 and they celebrated with a dinosaur party because “Carol’s cancer is extinct.”

They gave the oncologist a stuffed bear that day and were delighted later to learn that he had moved it with him to a new office.

Dr. Atwood says they worked at making the treatments fun. He said his energy and enthusiasm carried into the treatment center and, he was told, this cheerfulness was encouraging to some of the patients.

In 1997, Mrs. Atwood developed a scar tissue problem that has persisted. She has undergone surgery every year for the past five years. The most recent was to remove her gall bladder.

She says these health issues don't bother her. “You can let it get you down, or you can wake up each morning glad to see the sun,” she says.

After five years of clean tests, a patient is considered cured of cancer. On that day, the Atwoods treated her gynecologist and her oncologist to a luncheon.

People need to remember the doctors, Dr. Atwood says. “They are the ones patients look to for the magic. They are good, but they are just humans. There are problems they can't cure. Survivors owe their doctors continued gratitude.”

He believes it is important for the doctors to see their survivors getting on with life.

Mrs. Atwood is grateful to her husband for becoming her caregiver. She says she has been a caregiver and a patient and “it's much harder being a caregiver. You are constantly second-guessing and trying to make things better, but you can’t.”

Dr. Atwood says the experience taught him how fragile life is and what's important. "It is a lesson on what matters," he says.

Mrs. Atwood says you learn to compartmentalize your life. You decide what you can influence and you deal with that; you decide what you can't influence and you put it aside.

Dr. Atwood adds that the power of prayer is very strong. “Spiritual strength is so important.”

Mrs. Atwood says her story is a message of hope. “Don't listen to the horror stories,” she says. “Just live,” Dr. Atwood adds.

They believe that people who have been through cancer are an inspiration to others. And, she says, it is important to remember that no one survives cancer alone. There are caregivers, doctors, friends and family who play a big role.

Mrs. Atwood was the first person in her family to survive cancer. She knows the advances in medicine are significant and the fact that treatments can now be tweaked to meet each individual's needs is a big step forward.

Dr. Atwood says their experience has taught them that “you don't sweat the small stuff - and most things are small stuff.”