My name is Kate Rainwater. I grew up as a theater kid, active in community productions and school performances, and I’ve always been a creative person. As an adult, I continued working in theater, living in places like Chicago and Los Angeles, where I met my husband through performing. I also spent time doing professional baking, so creativity has always been a big part of my life—both on stage and in the kitchen. Less than a year ago, we moved to Omaha to start a new chapter together.
Looking back, I realize there were symptoms I didn’t ignore, but didn’t fully recognize as warning signs. For about six years, I occasionally experienced spotting during or after sex. My cycle had always been irregular, sometimes three weeks, sometimes five, with random spotting in between, so I didn’t think much of it. There was no pain, so it didn’t feel urgent. In hindsight, I understand that it likely was something significant.
The first symptoms that truly caught my attention were abdominal pains just under my rib cage. When I first saw a doctor, gallbladder issues seemed like the obvious explanation. I had recently moved and hadn’t established a primary care doctor yet, so I thought I could address both things at once. Based on my symptoms, the doctor—and even my boss with a background in emergency medicine—were confident it was gallbladder-related. I was referred to a general surgeon, who was the first person to question that assumption. He acknowledged it could be gallbladder, but also noted symptoms that didn’t quite fit and ordered a CT scan, though insurance delayed it.
Before that scan could happen, the pain became unbearable. I ended up in the emergency room in mid-February, doubled over in severe pain. They performed the CT scan immediately. While my gallbladder appeared normal, they noticed a shadow elsewhere and ordered an ultrasound. During the ultrasound, the technician became quiet, and I sensed something was wrong. Shortly after, a doctor informed me there was a mass. A gynecologist arrived soon after and urged me to follow up within 48 hours.
I asked her directly if she thought it was cancer, and she confirmed that she did. She performed biopsies of my cervix and scheduled further biopsies of two tumors—one large mass in my abdomen pushing my uterus aside and covering my ovary, and another retroperitoneal tumor entangled near my lymph nodes and pressing against major veins. Initially, because I had tested positive for HPV earlier, doctors assumed it was cervical cancer that had spread. But further biopsies of my cervix and uterus came back benign, shifting the diagnosis toward a rare form of ovarian cancer.
The cancer turned out to be extremely rare—so rare that my oncologist had only seen one similar case in her career. She consulted specialists across the country, including major institutions, to determine the best treatment plan. Because of the tumors’ size and location, surgery wasn’t initially safe. They were too large and too close to critical structures. The plan was to begin chemotherapy and see if the tumors would shrink.
After my first round of chemo, I developed a severe full-body rash that required hospitalization. It turned out to be a reaction to one of the drugs, and my treatment had to be carefully adjusted. During this process, I was also diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and Hashimoto’s autoimmune disorder, likely uncovered due to the stress on my body and steroid treatments. It felt like everything was piling on at once.
Despite complications, the chemotherapy worked. After a few rounds, scans showed the tumors had shrunk by 50%, then another 25% after additional treatment. At that point, surgery became possible. I underwent a complex procedure involving multiple specialists, including a hysterectomy and removal of both tumors. Thankfully, my surrounding organs were healthy and didn’t require removal.
After surgery, pathology results showed that everything removed looked healthy, and the tumors were completely necrotic—dead tissue. There were no active cancer cells left. I was officially cancer-free.
Even so, we decided to continue with a couple more rounds of chemotherapy as a precaution, along with immunotherapy to reduce the risk of recurrence. Moving forward, I’ll continue immunotherapy treatments for prevention.
Emotionally, the journey has been overwhelming. Cancer alone is life-changing, but dealing with additional diagnoses and complications made it even harder. Having my husband by my side made all the difference. He supported me through everything, from daily care to emotional support, and I truly don’t think I could have made it through without him.
One of the most important things I’ve learned is to allow yourself to feel everything. There are good days and bad days, and both are valid. Support systems matter, whether it’s loved ones or professional help like therapists who understand what cancer patients go through.
I also think it’s crucial to listen to your body. Those early signs I brushed off—like spotting or severe cramps—might have led to an earlier diagnosis. Women are often taught to push through discomfort, but it’s okay to admit something feels wrong. Regular checkups matter, and even if guidelines suggest less frequent screenings, advocating for yourself can make a difference.
Life is incredibly valuable. I’m not even 40, and I have so much I still want to experience—time with my husband, watching our daughters grow, and everything the future holds. Giving up was never an option.
