Mum was my best friend, truly she was.
The kind of mother that I now understand not many have. The kind of mother that was gentle, encouraging, positive, always making me feel good about myself, never critical, and always my safe place.
I told her everything and anything. Growing up she used to say that people were shocked at how open we were, but to us, that was normal. Early on she made a promise to herself, that she would be the kind of mother her daughter could come to for anything. And that I always did.
I got married in 2018 to my now husband Kevin. My mum was a huge part of the day – something I’ll be forever thankful for. Mum walked me down the aisle – something I had envisioned my whole life; she was the only person I wanted to stand with me and walk by me.
But today and every other day, I miss her voice so much it hurts. I miss her laugh; I miss calling her. She was the first person I would call in the morning and always the last before bed. I miss that.
Ovarian cancer took my beautiful mum, and it makes me angry – angry that in this century, treatment options have barely changed in 30 years, there are no preventative methods and there is still no early detection test.
Being a registered nurse, my mum was the picture of health: she was active, didn’t smoke, didn’t even drink, she was fit, and she had every single habitual early detection test right on the date they were due. She had pap smears, mammograms, colonoscopies, full bloods, bone scans, eye tests – you name it. Now, because ovarian cancer does not have an early detection test which so many other diseases do, I now don’t have a mum, my son Kai doesn’t have his Nan and my husband Kevin doesn’t have his mother-in-law.
It honestly feels like a nightmare. Every day is like a horrible dream that I’m waiting to wake up from thinking ‘oh my goodness that was so horrid and so real! Thank goodness that was a nightmare’, but it isn’t, the nightmare is very real, and I am living it.
Mum’s cancer journey was filled with hope, positivity, grit, determination, heartache, let down, and the severely harsh reality of not just any cancer journey, but an ovarian cancer one.
Unfortunately, mum’s diagnosis followed the classic story that so many other women and girls experience. Mum had been visiting her doctor over months, where her symptoms were put down to menopause – bloating, fatigue, frequent urination. Eventually, keeling over in extreme pain in the kitchen one day, to the point of needing to lie down, her final straw was drawn. Even after that, she was incorrectly diagnosed with a gastrointestinal upset by her GP, and was told to take a 2-week course of antibiotics. She ignored this advice, immediately called her local hospital, and was lucky enough to get in the next day for her scan. After her scan, she hadn’t even reached her driveway on the way home, less than a 10-minute drive and the GP called her in.
Told alone, with no support person by her side, mum had ovarian cancer. This began a brutal and distressing nearly 5-year journey.
A swift procession of medical appointments, oncologists and support teams ensued. A classic concoction of six months chemotherapy, debulking surgery, a hysterectomy including the removal of her ovaries, omentum and another six months of chemotherapy for good measure was prescribed.
After some follow up blood work, she was deemed in remission. A big exhale.
Three months later, she received the dreaded news that so many (over 70%) ovarian cancer patients experience. It was back and more aggressive having spread to her bowel, liver, kidney and lungs. In this moment mum knew she was terminal.
The cascade of drugs, side effects and procedures bled into one other – chemotherapy, parp inhibitors, oral chemotherapy, multiple blood transfusions, magnesium infusions, a bowel resection for her bowel obstruction, long hospital stays over the holiday period all to keep the cancer ‘at bay’. However, not only was this all not working to slow growth – it had spread. We were devastated to learn the cancer was now in her brain.
These are the parts of cancer that aren’t spoken about but are all too common.
The journey is filled with constant ups and downs, the physical and emotional rollercoaster for the patient and carers is relentless. It felt like we were up against a ticking time bomb, my mum often saying, “this will get me”.
In her final days in hospital, I spent every single night and all day with her, barely letting go of her hand. We watched our last sunrise together whilst she was well enough and talked about so many beautiful memories. I recorded conversations to always play back and just hear her voice with the countless times she said how much she loved me and couldn’t have done this without me.
Mum passed away at 8:38am on the 25th of October 2023, and I held her hand until the very end. She was finally at peace. She deserved that. Her nearly 5-year journey of ovarian cancer was rough, painful, and gruelling.
Tragically, there is still no early detection test for ovarian cancer. Treatment options have barely changed in the last three decades. Many women are still being dismissed by doctors, and I have heard the phrase “you’re too young” all too often, when in fact around 40% of cases are diagnosed in women below 60 years old. I tell mum’s story because all this needs to change and it will change, with action.
If there was an early detection test I have no doubt in my mind that not only would I still have a mum, my son his nanny, my husband his mother in law, but her journey wouldn’t be anywhere near as brutal as this would have been if detected in the early stages.
During mum’s journey I have dedicated a lot of my time to raising awareness and leading fundraising drives for the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation (OCRF). I have very carefully investigated who I want to raise much needed funds and awareness for and the OCRF are the only foundation solely dedicating funds to medical research. This research provides hope.
My mum Margy Grieve was my best friend. And I miss her every day.
What is the survival rate for ovarian cancer?
The survival rate for ovarian cancer depends largely on the stage at which it is diagnosed, the type of ovarian cancer and the patient’s overall health. On average, the five-year survival rate for ovarian cancer is approximately 49 per cent. Early detection is critical, as the survival rate is much higher when the cancer is found at a localised stage, confined to the ovaries, with about 93 per cent of patients surviving five years or more. However, only around 20 per cent of cases are caught this early due to the disease’s subtle symptoms. For cancers that have spread regionally to nearby tissues or lymph nodes, the survival rate drops to about 75 per cent. When ovarian cancer is diagnosed at an advanced stage the five-year survival rate decreases to approximately 31 per cent.
What are the early warning signs of ovarian cancer?
Is ovarian cancer fully curable?
Ovarian cancer can be fully curable, but the likelihood of a cure depends on several factors, most importantly the stage at diagnosis. When ovarian cancer is detected at an early stage, the chances of a cure are significantly higher with survival rates exceeding 90 per cent after appropriate treatment, which often involves surgery and chemotherapy. However, most cases are diagnosed at advanced stages, where the cancer has spread beyond the ovaries, making a complete cure more challenging. In these cases, treatment focuses on achieving remission, prolonging survival and maintaining quality of life.
Suki featured in the 2024 Georg Jensen campaign in partnership with the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation. Suki tells her mum Margy’s personal ovarian cancer story alongside her husband Kevin and son Kai. Georg Jensen’s special OCRF pendants are designed annually to raise critical funds and awareness for medical research via the Ovarian Cancer Research Foundation. Find out more here.
