In April of 2008, my wife, Marie Acanfora, 55, had been feeling extremely tired and was suffering from stomach discomfort. She conyinued teaching as the school year was approaching the end. She scheduled an appointment with her Gastointerologist in June, just to make sure that everything was ok. She suffered from irritable bowel for years, and wanted to be certain that that was all it was. Her doctor sent her for CT scan, as xrays proved something visible in the abdominal area. Her colonoscopy 9 months earlier showed nothing. By mid July, the results of the CT Scan warranted another colonoscopy, which revealed what was thought to be colon cancer, specifically in the sigmoid area. Her doctor also scheduled an appointment with an OB/GYN doctor whom he recommended.
It was determined that a colon resection was necessary, and that her ovaries should be removed. Marie had had a hysterectomy 15 years earlier, but her ovaries were not removed. Surgery was scheduled for early August, so that she would not miss our second son’s wedding on August 1st. Marie was operated on in August. Her surgeon explained that the cancer had spread to a section of the small intestines and her lymph nodes, in addition to the colon. Resections were done on both intestines, and the ovaries were removed. We still thought Marie was faced with Colon cancer. After an 8 day hospital stay, I took Marie home, and we followed up with the surgeon the next week. At that time we were advised to seek an oncologist, as he recommended chemotherapy. Before she even met with her Oncologist, her OB/GYN doctor requested to see Marie immediately. I left work and we met with her that afternoon. Results confirmed that the cancer was in fact Ovarian, which had spread to the large and small intestines, and was present in 32 out of 37 lymph nodes that had been biopsied. She was advised to seek an Ovarian cancer oncologist at Sloan Kettering as soon as possible. Her doctor told us then that Marie had a very aggressive cancer that was already in an advanced stage .
She met with the oncologist at Sloan, but we had already seen one on Staten Island. Marie opted to seek treatment close to home, as both doctors agreed on the type of chemo, the dosage, and the intervals of treatment. Marie was diagnosed at Stage IV and would begin a four month chemo regimen. She was a trooper through it all, even helping to prepare for the wedding of our 3rd son in November.
Her chemo was scheduled around the wedding, and Marie looked beautiful. Bald and exhausted, you would have never known what she had been going through. At 100 pounds she was determined to have a great time. Who would have known that on that day we would have danced together for the last time. We made it through 2 weddings, Thanksgiving and Christmas, making sure everything was done as it always had been done. We still celebrated Christmas Eve at our home with 25 family members as was customary.
Marie finished her chemo in January, and her February visit indicated that her CA125 marker was an 8. Sent home to celebrate, we bought a bottle of wine and spent a quiet evening together. Our four sons were thrilled with the news. Our oldest son was stationed near Somalia Africa during this entire ordeal, and his wife was always flying in from VA on weekends to be there for Marie. In the next 2 months, Marie’s hair began to grow back, and she managed to do things around the house. Still very weak and tired, she had to resign from her 22 year teaching career, 20 years of which were in Kindergarten.
By March, it was time for her first 3 month check-up. The news was devastating. We were told that her CA 125 was over 200 and that chemo had to begin immediately. Unfortunately, as we read and learned, Marie was considered Resistant. The typical treatment of Carboplatin and Taxol, did not work as Marie was platinum resistant. Topotecan, another drug, was to be administered every other week. We began immediately, but this drug completely exhausted Marie.
Her treatment continued for about a month when another obstruction was discovered. Rushed to the ER from the doctor’s office, Marie had another resection to help her eat and drink. By mid July I took her home once again, and she recovered nicely, awaiting to resume chemotherapy. Within a week, Marie was rushed back to the ER, as her bloating and discomfort could not be controlled. Another surgery was performed and her oncologist advised us that he would administer the Topotecan daily for 5 days, rather than once a week. We hoped this intensive, aggressive treatment would show an improvement in her condition. The treatment left her exhausted and sick for a week. Her migraine strength headaches never stopped and no drug helped ease the pain. She remained in the hospital for 28 days. It just happened to be on our 32nd wedding anniversary, when her oncologist asked to see us both. A most compassionate man, he told Marie that the Topotecan administered for 5 consecutive days, did nothing to reduce her markers. She only experienced the negative effects.
He asked her if she knew about Hospice. The remarkable woman that she was had taken care of a dying mother and an aunt on Hospice, and was well aware of what our doctor was about to ask her. He told us that the one last drug had a success rate of about 2 %, but he would try it only if she wanted. She looked at me and smiled, and turned to her doctor and told him that she had had enough. It was time to go home and she would begin hospice care. It was just 12 months earlier when this entire ordeal began.
Our son managed to visit her once from Africa, and one of the newlywed couples who lived in Los Angeles, managed to get a transfer back in June. With her family and friends around, Marie’s headaches went away and the vomiting stopped. Weak most of the time, she made the best of a bad situation. I took a leave from work to remain with her until the inevitable would happen.
The cancer continued to spread rapidly, and I helped drain her abdomen daily. Within 5 weeks, Marie’s condition began to deteriorate very quickly. She had lost about 30 pounds and was not able to even keep liquids down. Hospice was summoned at 4:30 AM one morning, and I was instructed on how to help make Marie as comfortable as possible. Heroically, she selected clothes for her funeral, requested some special students of hers to serve at her Mass, and divided her jewelry for her nieces and daughters-in-law. I cried constantly, never letting her see. After all, she had been the bravest of all.
The next day would be the last time I was able to get her to the shower. When I got her to the bed, she asked me to hold her. The embrace was our last, and she collapsed from fatigue right in my arms. I put her in bed and put on her favorite music. Marie slipped into a coma the next day. She lived for four more days. At 2:45 AM on September 29, 2009, Marie lost her battle with this terrible disease.
I have managed to share what I learned with many of our friends and relatives, many of whom have requested an internal ultrasound from their doctors. We are so committed to the work OCRF does. I wish the publicity for this most dreaded disease would be right up there with breast cancer. I know all the facts – ovarian cancer survival rates have not improved much in 30 years. At a survival rate of 11%, I only wish major organizations would embrace our cause, as they have breast cancer, which these days has a much higher survival rate.
I appreciate the opportunity to share our story with you.
~Matthew, NY
