Mev, United Kingdom
My journey began with symptoms I didn’t recognise as dangerous at the time. I had extremely heavy periods and pain, the kind many women are told is “normal”. I believed that too, until I started passing blood clots so large I would faint. That was the moment I knew something wasn’t right.
I was referred to a Gynaecologist and told I had endometrial polyps, growths in the lining of the uterus, and reassured they were nothing to worry about. I had surgery to laser them away, believing this would finally end the pain and bleeding. But it didn’t...
I was still in pain, and something didn’t sit right with me. My Gynaecologist expedited my biopsy results and asked to see my urgently. I remember that day vividly, 15 November 2018, sitting in the hospital waiting area, unaware that my life was about to change forever. That day I was told I had endometrial cancer. I had never even heard of it before.
I was 31 years old. I was terrified, heartbroken, and in complete shock. I remember thinking this had to be a nightmare, surely, I would wake up. But I didn’t.
Because of my age and my hope of one day having children, we chose a conservative hormone-based treatment route. For three years, I underwent repeated procedures, hysteroscopies, D&Cs, and Mirena Coil insertions, trying to preserve my fertility while eliminating the cancer.
Sadly it didn’t work.
Instead, my symptoms worsened. The bleeding became unbearable. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor during my periods, surrounded by blood, curled into a ball in agony, knowing deep down that I couldn’t continue like this.
That was when I had to face the most devastating decision of my life, I needed a hysterectomy.
In May 2021, at the age of 34, I had my womb removed. Alongside the physical recovery came profound grief, grieving the loss of choice, the loss of fertility, and the future I had imagined for myself. My ovaries were initially left in to avoid immediate surgical menopause, something I was deeply grateful for at the time. But cancer wasn’t finished with me.
Over the next few years, through scans, surgeries and escalating pain, my cancer returned and spread. First to my ovary, then to my peritoneum, bladder and lungs eventually becoming stage 4 incurable metastatic disease.
I underwent my first round of chemotherapy in 2023, followed by SABR Radiotherapy in 2024 and currently I’m undergoing chemotherapy again alongside immunotherapy. And now I’m learning to live with Stage 4 incurable metastatic endometrial cancer.
By the time I was told it had metastasised, my life had shifted forever. What began as “just heavy periods” became an incurable diagnosis, and that is why awareness, advocacy, and listening to our bodies matters so deeply to me.
At first, I found this incredible difficult to accept. I was trying to understand everything, the diagnosis, the uncertainty, the loss of control. I felt utterly lost and broken. My biggest challenge has been learning how to live while not knowing what comes next.
Living with incurable diagnosis means carrying uncertainty every day, not knowing how my body will feel, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, and learning to let go of the illusion of control. That has been the hardest work of all.
Over time, I've come to a place of peace, though that peace is not fixed. It shifts from day to day, from year to year with different metastases spreading.
Some days I feel energised and capable, almost like myself again. Other days I am completely floored, exhausted in debilitating pain that radiates throughout my body, unable to function in the ways I wish I could. Living with that unpredictability, and accepting that I cannot control everything, has been one of the hardest lessons. Generally just trying to keep up and navigate all the hospital appointments and different treatments I need to have which are constantly changing from one week to the next on top of working full time too. It’s exhausting!
Healing for me is not just about treatment or outcomes. It is about patience, accepting uncertainty, finding safety and allowing others to support me. Above all, it is about faith and gratitude. My faith has been the anchor of my journey, guiding me back when my mind starts to spiral. It brings me the calming energy and peace I need with that I’m going through.
My family, friends, and the support from the Cancer Charities have carried me through the dark days, and my mantras:
Be Present. Be Free. Be Still.
They remind me that healing is not about controlling the future, but about how I meet each moment. They bring me back to my body, to my breath and to a place of trust, even when I don’t have all the answers.
Other practices that have helped ground me include short walks in nature, prayers, time spent with my loved ones, meditation, singing, dancing, journalling, therapy sessions, reiki and sound baths. Each of these has been a lifeline, helping me stay present and centred.
I am deeply grateful for my medical team, particularly my current Oncologist, whose compassion and care mean more that words can say. The healthcare system supported me when I advocated for myself and sought a second opinion, as I didn’t feel I was being listened to or getting the treatment and support I felt I needed. This made a significant difference and allowed different treatment options for me. That choice, as scary as it may be, has given me the ability to keep fighting.
One of the failures of the healthcare system that I was part of initially was when they completely got rid of the psycho oncology therapy sessions. This was such a massive loss of support to me. I felt so alone. To be told you can go to another service nearly over an hour away from your home, to then try and build up the same rapport and support you had with your psycho- oncologist. I didn’t have the energy to start all over again. I just wanted to be heard, felt safe and supported where I felt comfortable and seen. The thought of starting the whole process with a new therapist was daunting and too exhausting for me going through treatment. There was no proper duty of care or consideration gone into it.
This experience reminded me that speaking up for your own care matters profoundly. Trust and listen to your body. Speak up if something doesn’t feel right, and keep advocating for yourself. Accept help and love. Live in the present. Make memories with your loved ones. Find what anchors you, for me it’s my Faith and Gratitude.
For me talking about my cancer journey and about raising awareness, particularly within the South Asian Community helped. As a South Asian Woman, I know how topics like heavy periods, gynaecological health, and endometrial cancer are often treated as taboo. But silence does not protect us. Open, honest conversations about our bodies and symptoms are essential. Awareness saves lives. I’m deeply grateful to have an open and supportive family, where I can speak candidly about these so called taboo topics
Healing doesn’t have to look a certain way. It can be messy, slow and still be raw and real. Take it one moment, one breath, one day at a time.
For me everyone should be entitled to the same treatment & support, no matter your background. Whether it be medical, financial, complimentary therapy etc. It’s what we all deserve to help support us going through this journey without having more obstacles put in our way.
On World Cancer Day, for anyone reading my story, remember to always hold onto hope and faith. Let go of the little things, live in the moment, make memories with your loved ones, and be grateful for your precious life. One moment, one breath, one day at a time.