There is only one good thing about recurrence… You know exactly when it comes. You feel it in your gut, and you just know.

When I was first diagnosed with stage IIIc ovarian cancer in 2015, I had no symptoms. It was a complete shock. This time, just a few weeks ago, I wasn’t shocked at all. This time, I knew—without any fancy scans or blood tests.

How Did I Feel Then? How Do I Feel Now?

Disappointed. Completely and utterly disappointed.

This summer was a beautiful time for me. I spent four weeks in Poland with my family, and gosh—I felt so good. I felt like I was finally returning to some kind of normality. Sure, I still had lingering side effects from last year’s surgery and treatment, but nothing serious—nothing I couldn’t handle.

I was happy. Truly happy. I cherished every moment with my family and friends. I ate fresh fruits and vegetables from my mum’s garden. I swam in a cold, refreshing lake with my husband and son. I picked blueberries straight from the forest and ate them right there. I danced barefoot with my little boy in the garden—in the middle of a thunderstorm.

I felt fantastic. Why couldn’t those moments have lasted longer? Hadn’t I already been through enough?

Recurrence

Apparently, my cancer decided that my body was a nice place to live—and without permission, it moved back in. When we returned to Ireland, I started feeling low. Sad. A bit depressed. I missed the gorgeous weather, the carefree days, and the happiness I had just experienced.

And then, within a week, I knew something was coming. Over the next three weeks, I developed every possible ovarian cancer symptom. And when the CT scan and CA-125 markers came back, they confirmed what was already obvious:

A few small pockets of fluid. A 9.5mm tumor. That tiny tumor made me feel so sick. I cried. Badly. I was upset. Angry. Devastated. But most of all… I was disappointed. It had only been a year. Twelve short months since my last chemo. My surgeon and oncologist had been so happy with my outcome. In June, I was told I was a healthy person.

Don’t be fooled. Cancer is not a fair enemy. It doesn’t play by the rules. It waits. It lurks. It gets stronger. And then—boom. It strikes when you least expect it. I hate it.

And So, Here We Go Again

The battle starts again.

Will I win?