MARGARET SMITH

I was in my early forties when my symptoms began, in 2004. I knew very little about ovarian cancer, even though I had 26 years' experience in the medical profession.

I started having irregular bleeding, abdominal pain, a feeling of fullness on one side of my abdomen, backache - but I tended to put all of it down to something else. I work as a radiographer at the Western Infirmary in Glasgow, so I just thought I'd got backache because of my job.

The problem is that ovarian cancer symptoms tend to mimic many other things. To begin with, doctors thought I might be pre-menopausal - but they did tests which showed that I wasn't. I just kept going backwards and forwards to the GP, saying: "This isn't getting any better."

Then I started losing weight. I lost about three and a half stone in all - but not round my tummy. I also experienced a dreadful fatigue, though I continued working full-time. The massive weight loss made me suspect it was cancer. I don't think I vocalised it to anyone, but in my heart I think I knew.

It must have been about 18 months before I eventually got a diagnosis. That isn't so unusual with ovarian cancer, I've since heard. My GP had sent me for a standard ultrasound scan, which was unhelpful. Eventually, several months later, I had a second scan - a special transvaginal ultrasound at the Royal Alexandra Hospital (RAH) in Paisley, which is the right type of scan for diagnosing ovarian cancer, and they found the tumour straight away. By that time it was quite large and obvious, and I had developed bowel symptoms. They also did a CA125 blood test, which could have been carried out months before - it's a cancer marker test.

The important tests you should ask your GP for if you're worried about ovarian cancer are a pelvic examination, a transvaginal ultrasound and a CA 125. That's really important. If women have all three tests, they should get an answer.

Most people with the sort of symptoms I had won't have cancer, but if one person reads this and gets help quicker, improving their outcome, it will be worthwhile. If the symptoms are picked up in stage one, which is early, the success rate following surgery is 95% - so those women will have a great chance of a complete recovery. Don't take no for an answer from your doctor.

I'd been so ill for so long and nobody seemed to take me seriously, so I was relieved when I was diagnosed. I was terrified but I thought: at last, something is going to happen and I'm going to get better.

I was diagnosed on a Monday and had my surgery on the Thursday. During the surgery they found the cancer had spread to the other ovary, a lot of the pelvis and to the bowel. They did a full hysterectomy and a pelvic clearance, where they take out as much tumour as they can find. I had fantastic surgeons and couldn't have wished for better care. They said I would be home in two weeks but I was out in 10 days.

I was a stage 3C diagnosis, which is advanced, and by that stage there's a fairly high chance - something like 95% - that it's going to return. Of course, you always think you're going to be among the ones that doesn't get it again, and for a long, long time I thought that. If positive attitude had anything to do with it, I felt I had it beat.

About six weeks after surgery I started my chemotherapy, which went on for six months. It's not something you'd choose to go through, though the staff at the Beatson Oncology Centre in Glasgow were totally fantastic.

When I didn't immediately feel better after the chemo had finished, that was a blow psychologically. However, over the summer of 2006 I improved gradually - my hair came back and I slowly began to feel a bit better.

It was people like my fantastic Macmillan nurse, Cathy MacIntyre, who kept me going. I count her now as a very close friend. You can talk to her about anything. I don't think I'd have got through it all without people like her because you need to be able to talk to someone who is not so emotionally involved. You can't always talk to your closest family because it's sometimes too painful for them. Goodness knows who she unloads on - maybe her cat. There is also a very good, supportive charity called Ovacome which I found useful, and I went to the Maggie's Centre at the Western Infirmary, which was great.

I went back to work in January last year, but by June I felt unwell again and I thought, hmm, this isn't a good sign. By July, my abdomen had distended with ascites, a fluid build-up, and I knew the cancer was back.

I already had a CT scan booked for July 23, the day after my daughter's thirteenth birthday. I didn't do anything about the swelling before that because I knew they would keep me in. I thought: "I'm not going to ruin her birthday." When I had my scan, I was getting up off the table and I collapsed. I was then admitted straight up to the ward in the RAH, where they drained off 15 litres of fluid over the next few days.

Being diagnosed that second time round was emotionally an awful lot worse. It was probably then that I coped with the diagnosis of cancer properly. I started on chemo again on August 14 and finished in January this year.

The prognosis is not so good now and the cancer is likely to be terminal. There's no point in dwelling on it, though, so I've decided I'm going to try to run my illness, not let it run me. That's the plan, anyway, but things don't always go to plan.

I have my bad days. I find that two o'clock in the morning, when I wake up and can't get back to sleep, is the worst time. Everything just closes in on you then.

When you are on something like chemo, you realise there are lots of people worse off than you. There has also been a lot of good to come out of this situation. I've had huge support from my husband, my daughter and my family. My colleagues have been brilliant, too. I'd say I've got six or seven absolutely wonderful friends who I know I can phone any time and moan at or have a giggle with. I sometimes think it's harder on the family and friends as the patient can concentrate on getting well while they feel so helpless. I'm hoping my daughter, nieces, sisters and friends may benefit from an increase in awareness.

Ovarian cancer is not that rare - it's the fourth most common cancer in women - and, once you're going through chemo, it's amazing how many people you meet with it. So my message is: you know your body better than any doctor does. If you have irregular bleeding, abdominal or back pains that you can't explain, or unexplained weight loss, go to your doctor - and keep going back. If I hadn't kept pushing and pushing, I wouldn't be here today. That's not a criticism of the NHS; it's just the way things are with this particular cancer. If you know there's something wrong, trust your instincts. Keep pushing until you've got an answer.