Over 12 months ago in December 2023, I was told I had progressed to Stage 4 endometriosis following my usual cancer surveillance MRI.
Leading up to this was months of an inner gut feeling that something was not quite right. I kept my worst fear to myself—the fear of recurrence. Since then, I have had to face an old friend: the (all too familiar) grief of losing a once healthy body and the relentless challenges of learning to live with a chronic illness.
I was first diagnosed with Stage 1 endometriosis in 2022, during a laparoscopic surgery to remove my left ovary due to ovarian cancer. At the time, I barely had any symptoms in regard to the endometriosis itself but instead just the prolonged intermenstrual bleeding which eventually led to the most dreaded C diagnosis: ovarian cancer.
I had what the specialists would call ‘silent endometriosis’. Yet at that time, my sole focus was on navigating this terrifying reality of cancer and its countless hurdles.
Fast forward two years, and I am filled with immense gratitude to be cancer free and for my renewed vigour and fortitude. Nonetheless, as months went by, that gratitude slowly dissipated as my body started to sabotage all my efforts to achieve my pre-cancer health.
I found myself again grieving the loss of my healthy body, quality of life and normality.
Living with Stage 4 endometriosis has been one of the hardest things I have ever faced and my biggest challenge in 2024. It has been more difficult, in some ways, than cancer itself. The daily struggle of waking up to an unpredictable body, wracked with pain and uncertainty, has tested every ounce of my strength.
The hardest part of this journey was that every day was so unpredictable. My body had become a stranger to me. From chronic pain to gut issues, “endo belly,” pelvic hypertonicity, and the emotional toll of PMDD, I have experienced it all. Each symptom felt like a betrayal. Despite my high pain threshold, I was not prepared for the sheer mental and physical exhaustion of it all. I became despondent.
I progressively developed this unusual hip pain and mid-way through last year, the pain worsened to the point where I could barely walk. Daily painkillers numbed my pain, just to get through work. Eventually, I was diagnosed with pelvic hypertonicity and nerve pain for which I had to see a pelvis physiotherapy and let’s be honest, I struggled to find time as I juggled work and other life commitments. I eventually had to have pelvis botox injections under general anaesthesia to manage the debilitating condition.
And then, there was the harsh truth about fertility. I rushed into another round of embryo freezing, only to face another heartbreaking defeat—no viable embryos. My exasperation was deep. I cried for days, mourning a future I thought I had secured. It felt like one setback after another.
Living with a chronic illness robbed me of my quality of life. The toll on my mental health was indescribable. At my lowest, I found myself questioning whether cancer had been easier than this relentless battle. My darkest days came with the hormonal drops of each menstrual cycle, when depressive mood consumed me. It was a heavier depression this time. I can still feel the heaviness of those dark days as I put these words on paper. I sought help, restarting therapy and beginning additional hormone treatment for PMDD, but even then, the weight of it all felt suffocating.
I had to reconcile the big questions regarding personal and professional life. And let me tell you it was not easy at all. I did not know if I could keep on working or I should take a break from medicine. The demands of the illness strained me and my personal relationships. My social life collapsed. Above all, it shredded my future hopes for what I had longed since being in remission from cancer.
I could not reconcile my body’s betrayal. I tried everything: healthy eating, an anti-inflammatory diet, acupuncture, you name it. But nothing seemed to alleviate the daily agony. I collapsed under the weight of constant pain and the inability to enjoy even the smallest joys in life. Despite my best effort, the body had a way of marching to its own beat. Grief became my constant companion. And I did experience it in all its shades!
During my ovarian cancer journey, I felt like I was walking in the dark, but I still knew I was on a path leading somewhere. However, with endometriosis, it felt like I was lost at sea with my compass changing course every morning. That was because of how unpredictable everyday became. I could not show up with the same unrivalled poised I once showed during my cancer diagnosis journey.
Endometriosis has taught me that no two days are the same. Some days, I can take small steps forward; other days, I just needed to rest. I have learned the importance of having a close support network—people who truly understand your struggles, many of which are invisible and hold space for your pain. Most importantly, I’ve learned to show myself compassion. I have been dealt with some very tough cards for the past few years. Nonetheless, both my cancer journey and living with a chronic illness has led to the making of who I have become now. I have embarked on this journey of self-discovery, personal growth and learning to live intentionally and to cherish every moment that matters to me.
As we begin this new year, I’m not setting lofty goals or resolutions. All I wish for is the strength to be at peace within this body I inhabit, to embrace the person I am now, and to let go of the past self I’ll never return to.
To anyone walking a similar path, know this: you are not alone and don’t be scared to take the mask off. The wellspring of connection, love and kindness that stems from sharing your vulnerability is beautiful to note. Healing isn’t about becoming who you once were—it’s about finding strength and beauty in who you are now.
As James Baldwin said: “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. “