As Jacquelyne Froeber tells it
June is National Cancer Survivors Month.
“You look like you’re pregnant,” my roommate said.
We both laughed because we knew there was no chance I was pregnant. But my stomach was round, swollen and hard – and I didn’t know why. I didn’t do anything different or eat any new foods. In fact, I had eaten much less than usual – I felt full after just a few bites.
Maybe it was all the diet soda I had been drinking?
Whatever it was, I couldn’t button my pants and had a stomach ache, so I drove myself to the emergency room. The emergency doctor ordered a CT scan. He was kind and nice and nodded to my lemonade theory. But when he came back with the results, the news wasn’t sugarcoating. “You have ovarian cancer,” he said.
I stared at him in disbelief. He said the swelling was caused by a tumor and I needed surgery immediately.
I was stunned. Granted, I didn’t know the symptoms of ovarian cancer, but how did I go from Diet Coke to cancer?
The next morning I had to undergo emergency surgery to remove the granulosa cell tumor (GCT) – a rare type of ovarian tumor. The operation was a success, but I still needed chemotherapy. My plan was ambitious: I would train five days a week for one week, one day a week the next week, and repeat the cycle for three months.
The first day of chemo wasn’t so bad. I felt slightly nauseous and tired. But from the second day onwards nothing went my way. I kept getting infections that sent me to the emergency room weekly. I was exhausted all the time and had stomach problems – even on the days I didn’t have treatment. I lost so much weight that the pants I couldn’t button before could no longer be tightened with a belt.
When I ended up in the intensive care unit with no white blood cells, my oncologist said we had to stop treatment. “Chemo will kill you,” he said. I was very afraid that stopping early would mean the cancer would come back, but he was right. I had no choice.
Before I could get too caught up in the “what ifs,” my test results came back and showed no signs of illness. I was cancer free. The burden and chaos of the last three months were suddenly lifted from me and I sobbed with relief.
2025, Jeanette with her dogs Zara and Lola
For the next eight years I continued to have tests and all was well. Then, in 2022, my blood work showed elevated levels of cancer antigen 125 (CA-125), which is a marker for ovarian cancer, so I feared my cancer was coming back.
I brought up the elevated numbers during my visit to my oncologist and he dismissed it. He said the numbers aren’t too high, so he’s not worried. I asked him if I should get a CT scan to be sure, but he said it wasn’t necessary. However, he wanted me to go to a dermatologist to get the small bumps that had formed on my legs checked out. I didn’t think the barely noticeable bumps were as important as my elevated levels, but I did as he asked.
When I went to the dermatologist, a biopsy showed that the bumps were not cancer or anything concerning, but the dermatologist recommended a follow-up. “I think there’s something going on with your body,” he said. “You should get a CT scan.”
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I told him that I had already submitted a request to my oncologist, but he didn’t think it was necessary. The dermatologist called my oncologist and he finally ordered the CT scan after the call.
When the imaging results came back and I saw the cluster of tumors, I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. I knew my numbers were elevated for a reason. I knew I needed a scan.
Suddenly I realized: This is my body – my house – and I am responsible for protecting it. I promised myself that I would always listen to my body and never take no for an answer.
I had to have surgery to remove the tumors and then more chemotherapy. I was incredibly nervous about having chemotherapy again, but my side effects weren’t nearly as bad as the first time.
Everything was fine for a while, but three years later my blood work showed elevated CA-125 levels again. And like a bad cancer version of Groundhog Day, my new oncologist said she wasn’t worried. “They have no symptoms,” she said.
I stood my ground. “I don’t care if I have symptoms or not. I want a CT scan.” She pushed back and wanted to check my levels again first, which I thought was fine, but I got this CT scan.
In fact, the imaging showed that I had ten tumors in the lining of my stomach. The plan was to have surgery and possibly chemotherapy as before, but since this was my third time with cancer and I wasn’t 100% satisfied with my oncologist, I wanted to get a second opinion.
I had seen an interview online with an oncologist who specializes in treating GCTs, so I emailed him.
To my surprise, he emailed me within an hour. He said he would make time to see me – I just had to get to San Diego. My excitement began to fade as I researched the costs. I didn’t have the money for a spontaneous trip to California. But something told me not to give up. A few Google searches later, I learned that I could request that various nonprofits and organizations reimburse me for my airfare, transportation, and hotel costs—even some meals.
I ended up getting almost the entire trip covered. The generosity of others still brings tears to my eyes. When I met with the oncologist in San Diego, he reviewed my medical history and treatment plan and told me I was on the right track. He wouldn’t do anything differently. I immediately felt lighter and more confident. Getting this second opinion gave me confidence and strength I didn’t even know I needed and allowed me to trust my healthcare team. When I got back to Texas, I had surgery and didn’t need chemotherapy, which was a nice surprise for once.
I know there is a chance the cancer could come back, so I keep up to date with my blood work and scans and have vowed to always listen to what my body is telling me. Every day I do everything I can to protect my home – and I couldn’t be happier.
Do you have any real women, real stories of your own that you would like to share? Let us know.
Our “Real Women, Real Stories” are the authentic experiences of real-life women. The views, opinions and experiences shared in these stories are not endorsed by HealthyWomen and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of HealthyWomen.
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