A chance moment on a restful weekend away changed my life

We rarely watch breakfast TV. A rare exception was one morning late in 2022, when I was half-dozing in bed during a long weekend away on the NSW Central Coast.

I’d been exhausted for a while. Stressed. Busy at work and dealing with a lot, personally and emotionally. I had sore abdominals from one of my despised gym workouts, too – except my trainer told me when I complained (again) that we hadn’t worked on my abs. A stomach upset every week or so had become annoying, but not too concerning. What I’d noticed most was the need to urinate more frequently than before.

There is no early detection test for ovarian cancer.Credit: ISTOCK

As we watched the Sunrise segment about the silent killer that is ovarian cancer, I mentioned to my partner that I shared some of the symptoms. He laughed and said, “Of course you do not have some random cancer that you’ve just seen on television.” But then he added, “Can you go to the doctor and … work out what is wrong with you?”

At no point did I think I had ovarian cancer. My symptoms were so minor I didn’t think they were even worth mentioning to a doctor. I didn’t have any bloating, weight gain or weight loss. I was tired – but who in their early 40s and holding a demanding job isn’t?

I booked an appointment with my GP of 20-plus years and shared my concerns. While ovarian cancer was unlikely, she said, there was no way to detect it, just tests to help rule it out.

The ultrasound came back clear, but the CT scan, which not all doctors order, revealed an advanced form of cancer. Not the type, at that stage, just confirmation that whatever it was had spread. It was terrifying, and the three weeks between diagnosis and starting what would become six rounds of chemotherapy were horrible.

There are positives, though. I’m calmer as a person, as a lot of the things I used to worry about don’t matter so much now.

MELANIE MCQUIRE

My GP rang me every day during that time and said, “Do not google, as you go down a rabbit hole!” Seeing the statistics takes me to a very dark place. Ovarian cancer survival rates are terrible, with less than half those diagnosed still alive after five years. For people with my stage of ovarian cancer, 3C, the survival rate is only 20-25 per cent.

At the beginning I think, OK, well if I can do this, have the surgery, and then be clear, then I’ll be fine. It’s when I start to realise that it’s a chronic disease, and it goes forever, that it becomes overwhelming.

Day to day I can, and do, live a wonderful life. But then the reality hits me at 2am. And during the good times as well. At Christmas, I look around and think, How many more good Christmases do I get? I make sure you get enough memories. I want to record it all. It sucks.

There are positives, though. I’m calmer as a person, as a lot of the things I used to worry about don’t matter so much now. Even when things get hard, every day I’m alive and pain-free is a good day.

When I found out what the future looked like for women diagnosed with ovarian cancer, I was so angry. I thought, Why has nothing been done about this? Why are we not researching and finding solutions?

I want better outcomes for everyone, but I also want more awareness, and the Mother’s Day Classic – an annual walk or run that supports breast and ovarian cancer research – does an amazing job of raising awareness. There’s so much frustration over the fact there is no early detection test, so that by the time the symptoms emerge, the cancer is already advanced.

My treatment was horrendous. I thought I was having a recurrence in Christmas 2024 and the agonising fear and uncertainty were worse because this time I knew what I would likely have to go through. The first time around you’re naive and optimistic and nervous, but you’re thinking, I can do this.

Doctors don’t like to say there is “remission” for my stage of ovarian cancer; NED (no evidence of disease), which is my current situation, is as good as it gets. I’m on maintenance medication, but even though I haven’t had chemo or surgery since June 2023, I still feel the physical and mental toll.

I feel much older than my 45 years; I get exhausted easily. I’m anaemic from the medication, so I struggle with long walks and doing everyday things. I want to live my life as though I’m going to reach a reasonable age, but I also want to live in the moment in case the cancer recurs and I only get one year of reasonable health.

While this is something that anyone can face, it’s very real. Then there are the long-term decisions: do I buy a house and get a mortgage, or do I not? I don’t want to be defeatist because that is like assuming I’m going to die.

It’s been more than two years since my diagnosis and, as yet, I haven’t had a recurrence. So I’m working on a 10-year basis. I really want to reach my 50th birthday. Everyone with ovarian cancer deserves that, at least.

Melanie McQuire is a community ambassador for the 2025 Mother’s Day Classic.

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