I believe in the power of teal

I never really had a favorite color, until a few years ago. Now, it is teal. I wear it in a scarf, a t-shirt, a bracelet, and a pin. But it’s not a fashion choice. Teal is a statement.

Teal is the color of the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance. In August 2009, this silent killer took my mother-in-law, Dorothy Higgs Wright, from us. She was diagnosed only a month earlier, although she’d been filling ill for more than a year. The doctors ran many tests. They did lots of blood work. There were scans and many, many office visits.

Meanwhile, Mom was in pain, especially in her abdomen and sometimes in her pelvis. Although weighing less than 100 pounds and in her early 70s, Dottie developed a bloat in her belly. She patted it, laughing, “Maybe I’m just pregnant.”

She would feel full after eating only a few bites, but had to urinate frequently. This meant she didn’t get much rest, and neither did my father-in-law. Her son and I lived about three hours away, but we started visiting every weekend, gathering with his siblings and their families for church and Sunday dinners.

We all wore the same worried looks and spoke in whispers around Dottie and my father-in-law. We shared the same thought: Mom seemed to be shrinking before our eyes.

Finally, the doctors recommended exploratory surgery. The night before the operation, my husband and I arrived to her room late, after everyone else left. Dottie wore her hospital gown like a blanket, with just her little face and slim fingers poking out from its folds. She looked like a frail baby bird in a snowy nest, her pale face crowned with soft white curls. My husband held her hand, with its paper-thin skin, and told the sleeping figure we’d see her in the morning.

Her doctor said the surgery could take a couple of hours, but we were called into the family room after only 30 minutes. It was ovarian cancer – a diagnosis that had not been discussed – and it was malignant and had metastasized to fill her abdomen. They closed her up and told us we had a month left with her.

I don’t mean to sound bitter. Dottie wouldn’t have it. She was grateful for the time she had with her family and friends, before and after the diagnosis. There was an unceasing trail of people who made the pilgrimage to visit her one last time: family, neighbors, and friends; people who had enjoyed her organ music in church for 35 years; administrators, teachers and students from the elementary school where she was secretary for decades. And many people whose lives she touched at the Indiana Soldiers and Sailors Childrens Home in Knightstown, Indiana.

I don’t know what my mother-in-law’s favorite color was. Knowing Dottie, she wouldn’t pick one for fear of offending the other colors. But I wear teal in her honor. Because I know she would want me to do everything I can to keep others from going through what she and we endured.

Ovarian cancer is a silent killer because its symptoms are easily confused with other conditions, and there is no reliable screening test for it. This makes it the deadliest of gynecologic cancers, occurring in about one of every 72 women. Striking at any age.

September is National Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. You may see teal ribbons, fundraising walks, and awareness fairs. Most important, be aware of its symptoms: bloating, pain in the abdomen or pelvis, urinary difficulties, and trouble eating or fullness.

I believe in the power of teal. I believe we can save lives with it.