Uterine Cancer Survivor Shares Her Journey from Stranger to Strength

Six months ago, I’d never even heard of uterine cancer. Today, I’m living with Stage 2 uterine carcinoma, and my body has become what I can only describe as a “live-in stranger” – some days we get along just fine, other days we’re having a proper tiff.

Warning Signs I Wish I’d Known

Looking back, the signs were there, waving at me. Heavy periods became irregular periods, which then became periods that outstayed their welcome. Eventually, I had a period that simply refused to leave, accompanied by bloating, pelvic pain, severe back pain, and fatigue that crept up on me like load shedding during dinner prep.

The real red flag? Internal procedures at the gynaecologist became unbearable – inserting a tampon felt like someone was renovating my insides with a jackhammer. If I’d known then what I know now about uterine cancer, I would have advocated much stronger for myself during those gynaecologist visits that started in 2023.

The Diagnosis Journey

My journey to diagnosis was like navigating Johannesburg traffic – frustrating, slow, and requiring multiple route changes. Initially, I was told my womb lining was thicker than it should be and given medication for the heavy bleeding. When that never-ending period persisted this year, my lining was found to be extremely thick, leading to a D&C procedure.

The biopsy revealed pre-cancerous abnormal cells, and I was referred to a gynaecologist oncologist who immediately identified cancer and a tumour growing in my uterus. After a full battery of tests – CT scans, blood work, mammogram – I underwent an immediate total abdominal hysterectomy in April 2025.

The final pathology confirmed Stage 2 cancer.

Living in a Body that’s Become a Stranger

My days now revolve around the logistics of radiation sessions, navigating side effects that include nausea, diarrhoea, extreme fatigue, and irritation at radiation sites.

The surgical menopause has turned my nights into a comedy of extremes – one minute I’m an ice block, the next I’m a human braai. Sleep has become as elusive and anxiety has become a regular visitor.

The Ripple Effect on My Village

Cancer doesn’t just happen to you – it happens to everyone who loves you. I live alone with my four cats and two parrots (my children, whom I love more than life itself), but suddenly I couldn’t care of them or myself.

My pensioner parents had to move in with me, trading their well-deserved rest for the role of caregivers.

The isolation is real…

A compromised immune system and zero energy mean social invitations become theoretical concepts. Some friends stick around, bringing soup and staying for tea. Others disappear…

You learn quickly who your people really are.

Finding Strength in Unexpected Places

Despite the trauma and pain of diagnosis, I’ve discovered that uterine cancer, when caught early, is very treatable. More importantly, I’ve unearthed hidden reserves of strength I never knew existed – yes, this includes allowing myself the occasional pity party complete with an ugly cry every other day. It’s part of the process, and there’s no shame in it.

The appreciation for people who genuinely care has grown enormous. The visits, calls, gifts, and support have taught me to reevaluate human connection, to find beauty in community, and to appreciate both life and the kind hearts of humans in ways I never did before.

My Message to Other Women

Every woman knows her body and her period cycle. If anything seems out of the ordinary, make sure you’re well supported through the medical system.

Don’t let anyone dismiss your concerns – you know your body better than anyone else.

A Word to Our Government

Cancer doesn’t check your bank balance or medical aid status before moving in. For people without medical aid to wait months for treatment is not just cruel – it’s inhumane.

A nation is built by its people, and those people deserve care when they’re fighting for their lives. This isn’t a luxury; it’s a basic human right.

Today, I’m learning to live with my body-stranger, finding strength in unexpected moments, and grateful for the community that’s rallied around me. Some days are diamonds, some days are rough, but every day I’m here is a day worth celebrating…

(Anonymous)