Mary Beebe

June 2025

Update to In Her Own Words, dated January 2016. Read 2016’s here.

In 2014, I was 31, working full-time, and trying to make sense of the painful cramps and heavy bleeding that suddenly sidelined me. I stayed home from work one day, hoping rest would help, but the pain only got worse. A trip to the emergency department revealed a 9 cm cyst on my left ovary. Within days, I had surgery—and a life-changing diagnosis: Stage 1C clear cell ovarian cancer.

My doctors urged an immediate full hysterectomy and chemotherapy. But I wasn’t ready to give up on the idea of having children. Against medical advice, I advocated for fertility preservation. The compromise: a unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy to remove the affected ovary and fallopian tube, followed by embryo preservation, and then a return for a second surgery to remove the rest.

My then-boyfriend (now husband) and I quickly moved forward with egg retrieval and froze embryos. It took just a month, and then I underwent surgery #3—a full hysterectomy. That surgery sent me into surgical menopause, and I began six rounds of carboplatin and taxol. The chemo brought side effects, but the most alarming was optic nerve swelling. The carboplatin caused headaches and blurry vision—damage that still requires explanation every time I visit an eye doctor.

In 2018, after starting a new job, a routine checkup showed a rising CA125. This time, the cancer had returned—and spread to my colon. My doctors recommended I go to MD Anderson in Houston, where I underwent six weeks of daily radiation, weekly chemo, and surgery #5, which left me with a temporary ileostomy. That was reversed later in Portland with surgery #6.

During 2019 and 2020, my husband and I pursued gestational surrogacy. We matched with two surrogates—one became pregnant before we started, and the second had three failed embryo transfers. It was heartbreaking and financially draining—we’ve spent nearly $100,000 trying to start a family.

As we prepared for our wedding in early 2020, cancer came back again. My third recurrence meant I had my port placed once more and started chemo just two weeks before our wedding day. I began maintenance treatment with Avastin, but then, in April 2020, I woke up with gut pain that led to the discovery that my left kidney was no longer draining—likely due to scarring from radiation. I now have a stent that needs to be replaced every 8 months.

2023 was mostly stable—I tried new jobs and enjoyed a bit of normalcy. But in Oct 2023, cancer returned once again—this time on my liver and pelvis. Surgery #7 involved 32 staples and a week-long hospital stay. I started a new chemo combination—carboplatin and Doxil—and was grateful to keep my hair. The ice blocks wrapped around my hands and feet during treatment to prevent hand and foot syndrome was a new one for me.

Fast forward to November 2024, I noticed swelling, pain, and discoloration in my leg. A PET scan showed a small mass pressing on a vein, and I underwent a week of radiation. In early 2025, my doctor stayed ahead of the curve and started Gemzar as my next line of chemo. Sure enough, my CA125 had started to climb again. In case you lost track, this is recurrence #5.

Cancer has taken many things from me—my fertility, parts of my body, my energy. But it hasn’t taken my voice, my hope, or my desire to support others facing this disease.

I share my story not just to show how relentless ovarian cancer can be, but to encourage other women to listen to their bodies, advocate fiercely, and know they’re not alone.