Surviving Holly, Holly Rochelle's Colon Cancer Story

Surviving Holly
Not your typical colon cancer patient – not your typical girl

By Wayne Brekke

It was in mid 2003 when Holly Rochelle was recovering from surgery in her room at Methodist Hospital in Omaha, Nebraska after having 60-percent of her colon removed along with 30-percent of her liver. She lay in bed, weak and struggling to focus through the mind-numbing effects of a morphine drip. She remembers feeling no pain, but was shocked when her doctor informed her that her diagnosis would be stage IV colon cancer with metastasis to the liver. As the surgeon left the room, he scratched a note on her medical chart. It read, "Prognosis is poor, very poor."

The nausea thing again.

Holly's story starts in the Fall of 2001. The very active, vivacious and physically attractive girl that had loved to play basketball as a kid, was experiencing symptoms of vomiting, fatigue, and chronic pain. Doctors ran various tests that yielded no concrete results. This frustrating cycle continued for months as Holly suffered through constant pain, nausea, dehydration, weight loss and a large palpable mass in her abdomen. Her doctors were at a loss. In one instance a certain doctor with somewhat questionable values even wrote, "Holly is here with that nausea thing again," in her medical record. Her symptoms persisted without relief.

By late 2003 Holly was working as a laboratory consultant for a medical clinic. Scheduled for an early morning shift, she vomited on herself en-route to the office and again as she walked into work. A physician found her on her hands and knees as she looked up at him pleading, "Please help me!"

Out of the frying pan – into the fire

Holly drove herself to the ER at Clarkston West in Omaha and explained her symptoms. It was not long after that a flurry of activity including medication for the pain, a CT scan, full lab workup and an eventual transfer to Methodist. It was there Holly was informed that as a result of a colonoscopy and various other testing, emergency surgery was necessary. It was the surgeon's opinion that Holly may have colon cancer. In one way, this explained a lot. She was not your typical colon cancer patient. Holly was young, beautiful, active and female. Far from the older male stereotype she thought of when considering colon cancer.

After surgery, Holly conferred with the doctor who told her that the surgery went fine, but wanted to wait to discuss the prognosis until after she recovered from the effects of the anesthesia. She knew by the look in his eyes what the prognosis was.
"We made this little pact before I went in that he would talk about everything, good, bad, or indifferent and I trusted him," Holly said. "He said technically the procedure went well, but wanted to talk about it after I had rest. At that point he knew I had colon cancer, but I guess he didn't think I was up for a chit chat at the time, because my body had been manhandled."
After a couple hours of rest, Holly awoke to a nurse taking vitals and surprisingly -- a member of the hospital clergy. "The clergy told me that she was sorry that I had stage IV colon cancer and that I was going to die," Holly said. "My mother told the woman to get the hell out of my room and demanded to see a hospital administrator immediately."

It was after that shocking situation that the doctor confirmed the prognosis. He had removed 60% of her colon and 30% of her liver.
"My liver? What?" Holly thought.

The long road to recovery

Her recovery was long and arduous. Months passed where she felt that each step forward was rewarded with two steps back. She couldn't tolerate food by mouth, so it had to be given intravenously. She endured weeks of chemo treatments, weakness, fevers, nausea and intense pain. A home morphine pump was only one of several drugs prescribed for pain management.
"Sometimes I think doctors shouldn’t be allowed to prescribe drugs unless they have tried it themselves. I questioned my doctor about him prescribing me Marinol for my nausea and lack of appetite, which is the capsule equivalent of marijuana. I asked him if he ever smoked weed before. All he said was ' Yeah, I went to college!' I trusted him enough then to take his prescription!" Holly said laughing. "But as it turned out, I took it three times and it really had no effect."

In December of 2003 she was readmitted to the hospital and eventually told that her condition was the result of an infected port and surgery was needed to replace it. Post surgery, Holly was extremely weak and only after she agreed to a transfusion of packed red cells did her body respond. She was eventually discharged, but after considering her situation, Holly decided to leave Nebraska and seek a second opinion. Her medical team helped her travel from Omaha to Knoxville where she would work with a medical team for a more successful recovery. But after weeks of struggling in Tennessee, nothing changed.
"When I arrived in Knoxville I was sick as bloody hell. It wasn't getting better. By the end of January I had given some serious thought to stopping the team in Knoxville and transferring to someplace else," Holly said. "
After a recommendation from her doctor, Holly decided to travel to Texas to seek further help at MD Anderson, a highly respected cancer treatment center in Houston. It was there that she underwent more tests, biopsies and treatments. The conclusion was that no surgery was needed at the time, but a change in chemotherapy treatment was in order. After transitioning to a regimen known as FOLFOX4, her chemo ended in mid August 2004. Holly is now considered without evidence of metastatic disease.

Back in the game

Talking to Holly today, one would never suspect that just a few years ago she was practically knocking on Death's door. Her energetic spirit, sharp wit and genuine personality belie her traumatic surgeries and 13 colonoscopies. Her body seems overflowing with a contagious lust for life that drives her ambitious dedication to raising awareness about cancer and healthy living. In the Fall of 2005 she started a campaign respectfully requesting that each of the fifty state governors proclaim March 2006 as colon Cancer Awareness Month. She continues this campaign through 2007 and beyond. She also organizes an annual cycling event called "Rollin' to Colon." Holly is also involved with several other organizations and committees to raise awareness and uses her experience to help others in similar situations. Her charming laughter makes it hard to believe she ever endured her struggle with cancer and it's only now that she can actually laugh at certain circumstances in her past.

"When other people talk to me about their condition they need encouragement. I sometimes will tell a funny story to help them. There was a time I was on the table in surgery where I was supposed to be completely out. Somehow, I hear my surgeon whisper "Shit," and I sat straight up and told him he couldn't say that when I'm on the table! He said it so quietly that no one else in the operating room heard it. Who's going to believe that?"

She is also featured as Miss March in a calendar called the "Colondar" which was put together to raise awareness of colon cancer. Holly's picture features her in a bandanna, jeans and pose meant to emulate "Rosie the Riveter" from the WWII era campaign honoring women's labor.
Holly continues to help others while attending school in Indiana and raising her eight-year-old daughter. Her life isn’t always easy, but she is simply glad to have it for a little while longer.

"It's difficult sometimes, I'm 34 and people don’t always look at me as a serious voice for colon cancer because I don’t fall into the norm. I want to help people realize that the earth is a really big place and when someone closes their eyes and exhales long enough they can appreciate there's more to the world than simply themselves."