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I picked up Susan Gubar’s book, Memoirs of a Debulked Woman from the library on Saturday. You may recognize Gubar as co-author of Madwoman in the Attic among other important feminist texts. Gubar was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2008. Ovarian cancer is nearly always fatal.

Gubar undertook to write the book because there is not much known about the causes of ovarian cancer, there is no early detection to increase a woman’s chances of survival, and the treatment for the disease is so rudimentary that it often causes a host of other problems. By writing the book Gubar hopes that enough attention is drawn to ovarian cancer that more work is put into creating early detection tests and better treatments that might help someone else since it is too late for her.

Part of the problem of early detection of ovarian cancer, besides there being no reliable screening method, is that symptoms resemble so many other things: bloating, fatigue, a feeling of satiety, indigestion, recurrent back or abdominal or pelvic pain, urinary frequency, flatulence, irregular periods, spotting, cramping, constipation, shortness of breath, pain during intercourse, or incontinence. Not every woman has symptoms and if she does, depending on her age, why would she think anything was wrong? Oftentimes women who do have symptoms who feel something isn’t right and see their doctor, are treated for the symptom itself without further investigation. Gubar’s first symptom was indigestion. She went to the doctor and he gave her antacids to take. Given all this, it is not surprising that almost all women diagnosed with ovarian cancer have already reached advanced stages in which the median survival rate is 25 to 30 months.

Gubar’s cancer was already advanced. She decided to follow standard treatment. She was “debulked,” surgery that removes part of a malignant growth that cannot be fully excised. However, during the surgery her colon got accidentally cut in a few places and fluids from her bowels entered he abdominal cavity. She got infections and abscesses in her colon, and ended up having a drainage tube inserted into her abdomen to keep fluid from building up in it. This was then followed by six weeks of debilitating chemotherapy.

I must now admit that I did not read the entire book. It is well-written to be sure, but after the foreword and the first chapter I couldn’t go on. I don’t consider myself a hypochondriac but I couldn’t help but think about all the times I have felt bloated, or had cramps or fatigue or indigestion and wonder if maybe…? It was also clear after the first chapter that the book was about to get really intimate with all that Gubar went through and felt and thought and I was just not up for it. So I skipped to the last chapter and skimmed it.

I discovered that in spite of everything, she had a remission for a year in which she lived almost normally. But at the end of 2010 the cancer had come back. She had another round of chemo and was contemplating more surgery when the book ends. She is still alive but at the end of the book she says she knows she is fighting a losing battle, that eventually the cancer will win.

She also expresses surprise that she has followed the path of doing everything possible to extend her life no matter how demeaning and painful and debilitating the treatment is. Prior to diagnosis she always thought she would be one of those people who, when faced with a terminal illness, would choose to bow out gracefully instead of submitting to the indignities of the medical establishment. But she discovered that she didn’t want to go down without a fight after all. She readily admits how lucky she is to have excellent health insurance coverage, a workplace that was able to let her have time away (she has since retired), a close family and a supportive network of friends. Because of this she has access to some of the best doctors and can even travel to a different state to consult with experts.

I suspect that everything between chapter one and the last chapter is really good and really interesting and raises plenty of questions about ovarian cancer, the practice of medicine, and end of life issues and other important things as well. But it is the gruesome details that kept me from reading those in between chapters. I wouldn’t want Gubar to change them, to make them nicer, to pretend that they are somehow not so bad. I admire her courage and strength and I appreciate that she has written this book. I hope it is successful in bringing about changes in ovarian cancer detection and treatment. I hope that in five or ten years that such huge strides have been made that a diagnosis of ovarian cancer is no longer a death sentence.

By Gayle Sulik Some people don't even know that disease-specific ribbons besides pink exist. Nan Hart wrote on the discussion board of the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance (Sept. 19th) that after her daughter got a teal ribbon tattoo on her wrist, one of her daughter's coworkers asked why her breast cancer ribbon wasn't pink? Umm...Because it's not a breast cancer ribbon? The assumption that one ribbon