Cancer Times 2: Synchronous but Surviving

On April 13, 2022, I received the news. The OB/GYN spoke very softly, but her words brought tears to my eyes as I struggled to keep her calm.

Having recovered from the absolute shock, I prepared for the unexpected challenge of the unknown. I met a wonderful young black man who would become a trusted oncologist. He recommended a course of treatment starting in May with staging of uterine cancer via a hysterectomy. I consulted with my doctor in early June and waited for the pathologist’s report.

I had three pages of typewritten questions to ask him, but I was totally unprepared for his explanation of the results of the surgery. He informed me that I actually had uterine cancer and was staging 1A. Unfortunately I had the uterine serous variety — rare and very aggressive The cancer was in the early stages of progression, so the chances of survival weren’t bad.

My oncologist also reported finding abnormalities in my cervix during my hysterectomy. It was a large malignant mass that was removed and later staged as 3B. A Pap smear never detected it and I never had any symptoms.

An oncologist informed me that there was no link between uterine and cervical cancer. They were not the result of metastasis or recurrence. In fact, I’m a rare patient who had two cancers discovered at about the same time. A sarcastic voice said in my head. Two chances to die. Aren’t I lucky!?”

Since that harrowing summer, I have had external beam radiation with low-dose chemotherapy, brachytherapy, and six rounds of two-drug chemotherapy. On his January 9th of this year, I rang the bell at my treatment center and posted a tribute to the oncologist and medical team on Facebook. His PET scans afterward were clear and I happily embarked on a new journey through surveillance.

I have also embraced what I consider my dual identity. I am a member of both the cervical cancer community and the cervical cancer community. While the other members I meet have many similarities (i.e. female, adult, really sick of cancer), the dual diagnosis makes me feel like I have two different identities of hers. can feel

I am a cervical cancer patient. I came of age in his early 1970s, but I hadn’t heard of the HPV virus or a vaccine that could prevent it until my kids were in high school in the 21st century. Also, friends in my social circle don’t talk about it much because they recall when syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes, and maybe chlamydia were the only dangers. (Also doesn’t apply.) Most of the women look at least 20 years younger than me, so I always feel like the oldest woman during group sessions. Unsurprisingly, concerns about future fertility, sexual relationships, and the HPV vaccine tend to dominate support group discussions. But thanks to the younger group members, she was able to focus on her HPV virus in a way she hadn’t before. I feel empowered to share my story and help them understand that life exists far beyond the reproductive organs.

I am a uterine cancer patient. It’s where I primarily belong and the community I feel closest to. Perhaps I accepted that label more easily because it was my first diagnosis. Maybe. have something in common. Most group members she is over 50 and post-menopausal. We tend to be retired or later in our careers. Those who have children have adult offspring, so fertility is no longer an issue. We can empathize with the anger and frustration generated by the discussion of racial disparities encountered in the clinic.

But at the end of the day, those two diagnoses make me like millions of cancer patients around the world. The outcome is uncertain, but my strategy is clear: use abundant optimism, gritty determination, and steadfast conviction to win.

Having gynecologic cancer at the same time makes me unique.Twice the disease, twice the win!

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