The health research charity WellBeing is running an ovarian cancer awareness campaign throughout this month. Sarah Foster meets a woman who has overcome both ovarian and breast cancer.

THE word 'cancer', with its connotations of long, painful treatments and lack of cure strikes fear into most people's hearts and if there's a particularly menacing strain, it's arguably ovarian cancer. Dubbed the 'silent disease' because of its lack of obvious symptoms, 7,000 UK women are diagnosed with it every year. An even more chilling statistic is that 6,000 won't recover.

In a bid to lower this figure, which is among Europe's highest, the women's health charity WellBeing, a branch of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists, has launched a campaign to raise awareness of the disease along with vital funds for research. Throughout March, it will be selling teal ribbons, the international symbol for ovarian cancer, in shops and fitness clubs.

Starting in the cells of the ovary, the cancer is likely to respond to treatment in two-thirds of women... if it doesn't spread. If it does, only one in five survive the threshold time of more than five years. The symptoms, such as a constantly swollen abdomen, abdominal or back pain and digestive problems, can easily be put down to mild ailments and even more worryingly, smear tests do not detect ovarian cancer. In fact, there is currently no means of screening for the disease. Many women only discover they have it when they undergo treatment for other complaints, as happened in the case of 48-year-old Barbara Dawson.

Barbara, from Bishop Middleham, near Sedgefield, had already beaten breast cancer around six years previously when, two-and-a-half years ago, she began having unexplained bleeding.

"To stop the breast cancer recurring, they put me on tamoxifen, which suppresses oestrogen in the body. All the breast cancer treatments put you through the menopause instantly and my periods stopped. Then I started bleeding for no apparent reason," she says.

When the bleeding worsened, doctors decided that Barbara should have a hysterectomy. While many women would have taken this as a blow, especially having had a lump removed and undergone a year of painful breast cancer treatment, Barbara simply accepted it as necessary. "I was quite happy with it. My family was complete," she says.

But during the operation, the surgeon discovered a growth on one of her ovaries and after a few tense days of waiting, she was called in to hear the results of tests. "My husband went with me and we knew it was bad news because the consultant wanted to see us. It was a case of 'here we go again'."

Despite having her worst fears realised - for the second time - Barbara is remarkably upbeat in discussing her ovarian cancer. She seems unable to say anything negative without countering it with something positive. "When the consultant told me, he was really apologetic, but I said, 'Perhaps I'm really lucky. Because of the hysterectomy, I found out about the cancer'. I suppose I was upset for about half a day - I did feel a bit peeved - but it was another primary cancer, which made it much better for me because it wasn't as if the breast cancer had travelled."

Fortunately for Barbara, her cancer was graded on a scale from one to four as 2a, meaning it was at a relatively early stage. Within just three weeks of her hysterectomy, she began chemotherapy at the University Hospital of North Tees. But whereas with breast cancer, she was able to fit her treatment around her high-flying job as director of a business analysis firm, boasting that she had only missed four days, she found it much harder the second time around.

"I was all right for the first couple of days but I wasn't very well from day three to day ten. I was very sick - I couldn't even keep my anti-sickness tablets down. I couldn't walk from the bedroom to the bathroom and there were some days I didn't want to talk to anyone," she says, then qualifies it by adding: "But that was probably only 18 days in six months."

One of the main things that kept Barbara going during the bad times was the support of her family. When she was first diagnosed with breast cancer, her son, now 18, was only 11, and she says "he probably suffered more than anyone". But her husband, Steve Frith, made it clear he was going to be strong for her and hasn't wavered since. "He said, 'We are in this together. We are going to get over it,' and gave me a big cuddle," she says.

Another great comfort was Barbara's confidence in the medical staff who treated her, and she can't praise doctors at the University Hospital of North Tees and James Cook University Hospital highly enough.

"I must say the medical treatment I've had has been absolutely fantastic. I think if you have confidence in the medical staff it helps a great deal," she says.

Being what she describes as "a pushy sort", who would rather know the truth than hear hollow reassurances, Barbara pressed for full information, even asking what the odds were of her surviving ovarian cancer. The medical staff obliged, telling her there was a 50 to 60 per cent chance of her living five years. While this would have been enough to test even the most committed optimist, Barbara simply says: "I thought, 'That's good because there's only a 40 per cent chance of me not living'. I look on the positive side."

Having been free from ovarian cancer for half of the crucial first five years now, Barbara has reorganised her life. After taking a year out of work, she decided she enjoyed having more time to herself and gave up her high-powered career. She now volunteers at Sedgefield Community College and has embarked on a City & Guilds embroidery course - "something I've wanted to do for years".

She denies that surviving cancer twice has made her more positive, saying: "I've always appreciated what I've got. It's not as if the cancers made me appreciate it even more." But she admits it has made her value herself more: "I think perhaps what I've been through has made me feel as if I deserve more time for me."

While having breast cancer slightly increases the risk of ovarian cancer, Barbara doesn't know why she developed either, or even whether she will remain free of the disease. But reviewing her experiences, she believes it needn't be the curse people imagine it to be if they focus on getting better, as she did.

Looking out at the beautiful snow-covered landscape surrounding her, she says: "I wanted a life - that was my priority. I didn't care what else happened as long as I lived because life is good."

l WellBeing's information line, 020 7772 6400, can direct anyone concerned about ovarian cancer to the most appropriate support, and people can learn more about the disease at www.wellbeing.org.uk/ovariancancer.

l The North-East ovarian cancer support group Ovacome can be contacted on 0191-387 5363.