Finding My Footing After Cervical Cancer

In 2019, my beautiful son was born. I had my first abnormal pap a month after his birth.

A year and a half later, with multiple colposcopies, I was finally told to have a LEEP. A month later, I got a phone call from my gynecologist while at work. It was the phone call that changed my life; I was told that I had adenocarcinoma of the cervix.

I rushed home with tears in my eyes. Not wanting to tell my husband or, for that matter, my mother. She had just started feeling better after her own treatments and a stem cell transplant. Her hair was finally growing back. How can I share this news with her, that I, too, have cancer? My brother was diagnosed with testicular cancer in 2018, my mom was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in 2019, and then a year after her diagnosis, I was told I had cervical cancer. How can this be happening to one family? What did we do wrong?

The very next day, I distinctly remember asking myself, “How did I not know what HPV was? How did I not know there is a vaccine to prevent my cancer?”. I needed to create awareness for my fellow lady friends. We need to be made aware of what our pap tests are looking for. 

Being a new mom is already a challenge. Your whole world has turned upside down for this beautiful little creature who never sleeps, constantly eats, and cries all the time. I was already drowning. I absolutely love my son, but at that moment in time, I felt like I lost a part of who I was. Now, I’m just a mom, not Victoria.

Then a cancer diagnosis slaps you in the face.

My Family

Surviving cervical cancer gives you a whole new perspective on life. My attitude towards living and being a part of my family has changed dramatically.

My son, Jude, is now three years old. Knowing that cancer was in my body and knowing that if I didn’t find it or treat it, he would have been left without a mom; tears up my heart. I cherish every moment I have with him. Yes, even the crazy tantrums and the days I want to pull out my hair!

When my mom had her stem cell transplant, I was one of her caregivers. I saw firsthand what it was like to watch your mom fight for her life. I was fortunate enough to not have to go through radiation or chemotherapy; my son only knew mommy was “ouchie” (after my radical trachelectomy) and to let me heal.

I am here for my family. I am present in all things good and bad.

Being shown that cancer doesn’t discriminate on your age, really made me appreciate life and live it to the fullest. No more saying “well, maybe one day, I’ll do it” – now is the time!

My Friends

Explaining to my friends that I had cervical cancer truly felt like an out-of-body experience.

Like me, they were very uneducated on what HPV was and how it can cause cancer. My goal at the time wasn’t to create awareness, but more to let them know what was discovered and my treatments. My friends are the family I chose, and they needed to know.

Having this conversation and sharing everything with my friends is really what drove my desire to get involved in advocacy.

Creating Awareness

Bringing awareness to cervical cancer has been the biggest part of making my survivorship count.

As I mentioned, I had no idea what they look for during my pap test and just how important that truly is. How science and researchers have discovered a vaccination that can prevent certain HPV cancers.

During this cancer journey, I have found my voice. I need people to hear it, and not just hear it, listen! Educating my friends & family became my priority.

Originally, I shared my story and created awareness through social media. I attended a conference held in Toronto, Ontario, called “Health eMatters”. Here I met other advocates and heard about their journies. I have learned tips/tricks and other resources/tools to engage with more people.

My mom and I have started an Instagram account about a mother and daughter duo fighting cancer together. This is a newly formed platform and I’m excited about the possibilities and the number of people we can reach!

Being a survivor of cervical cancer, I find it is my responsibility to share my story and create awareness of cervical cancer. Don’t ignore the uncomfortable five minutes of a pap test! Get your vaccination!

If I help just one person or encourage just one person to get their pap test, I have done my job as a cervical cancer survivor and advocate.

Ending the Stigma

I, along with a lot of my Cervivor friends, have taken the challenge of stimga head-on.

We all know that cervical cancer has a stigma with it because it is related to HPV. So, it must be a “dirty” cancer. Educating the world about how common HPV is and how most people will have it at one point in their lives. Most immune systems are able to fight it off, while some aren’t so lucky and it can turn into cancer.

I was told I had cervical cancer caused by HPV and I automatically went to the thought of, “How? I’ve been with my husband for over ten years!”. I had no idea HPV could lay dormant for years!

So, back to educating because this is important. Everyone needs to know that just because you have cancer caused by HPV, it does NOT mean you “sleep around” or that you are “dirty”. It only takes one encounter!

We must end this stigma. I am not ashamed of it. I am not embarrassed. I will voice it loud and clear that I had cervical cancer and that you can prevent yourself from getting it.

TOGETHER, LET’S END THE STIGMA around cervical cancer!

Future

Looking towards the future, I would love to be able to connect with other cervical cancer survivors in Canada and truly make a support group here.

I want to be able to help those who have been newly diagnosed and be able to provide them with as much information and support as humanly possible.

I want to share my story with media outlets and really create awareness here in Canada. I’ve been talking with my local MPP about getting the Gardasil vaccination a priority and covered by our OHIP here in Ontario.

There are many steps left in my future of making my survivorship count. I am only two years out from being cleared of cancer and I’m just getting started on my advocacy!

Victoria Falla is born and raised in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. She is a 33-year-old cervical cancer survivor. She was diagnosed with stage IB2 cervical cancer in 2020. Victoria is an active cervical cancer advocate who will make her survivorship count with every breath she takes.

Blank Verses, Short Stories, and Other Musings

Each night, I climb into bed, prop up on my red, corduroy reading pillow that has followed me from college all those decades ago and slowly open a small, bound book. Pen in hand, I take a deep breath and begin a scribbled conversation that has kept me sane since my April diagnosis of synchronous cervical and uterine cancers. That book, this pen, those words are my free therapy. And I am better for them.

The magic of words was made plain to me in childhood. I taught myself to type on Mom’s gunmetal gray, Royal Underwood typewriter, pecking away on two fingers to churn out a neighborhood newsletter. Adolescence brought dreams of growing up to study Creative Writing, joining a writers’ colony in the Vermont woods and becoming the next Nikki Giovanni, Alice Walker, Gwendolyn Brooks…you see where this is going? Well, as too often happens, adulthood altered those dreams, and this English Literature major became a government trial lawyer in Massachusetts—still using words to shrewdly sway jurors and to sharply skewer opponents—but I always maintained a growing collection of blank verse, short stories, and other musings that one day could be shared with somebody. Anybody.

Doris’s cancer journal

Perhaps all that explains why one of the first errands I made immediately after my diagnosis was a search for the right journal to house my feelings—all the scary, happy, and unnamed things that would come my way along this journey. This vessel could not be flimsy or cheesy. No, buddy. This word-keeper had to be worthy of the emotions that would leak out onto its pages. Here is where I would explain how this “cancer thang” discombobulated us all. 

I had always proclaimed that I planned to blow out candles at my centennial birthday party. How could the threat of mortality come knocking at my door now, when my married daughter in Mississippi (Lord help us) needed me after giving birth to our first grandchild in March? And my son was 2,000 miles away in the Boston area, having just survived a divorce and a torn Achilles tendon. He had a hard time handling my illness. My husband was trying mightily to cope with his own anxieties about my health and all the myths and stigmas associated with cancer. This was way too much for a cheap, lightweight notebook. Only a special book could cradle those complicated realities.

My chosen, pink pen pal has never failed me. Its sturdy pages have given me space to vent about the things it has been hard to articulate to folks: the chest port that feels reminiscent of alien abduction anecdotes; the tutorial on dilator use that made the nursing assistant blush; the way I could discern the texture of food (even water), yet not its taste; the exhilarating freedom of a shaved head displayed to all the world. And it has let me weep onto its cream-tinted pages, wrinkled testament to the overwhelming sadness that comes with this journey at the oddest times. 

This journal is so much more than frequently illegible cursive words. No, these pages are quite often a battle cry, this warrior’s call to arms against the most unexpected enemy: her own cells. These pages are like an old-timey, gutbucket, blues chart from backwoods juke joint—a full-throated, belly-wail of agony and joy, growled by one who knows the score (literally and figuratively) and ain’t afraid to tell you all about it. And, always, always, that hard-cover book is my hymnal, sketching lines of praise to Him in Whose armor I outfit myself every day. This little unassuming book contains uniquely metered lyrics of love and faith and strength. 

I will write my way out of this Egypt. The inked lines will chart the path to my Red Sea….

A sixth generation Texan from San Antonio, Doris Helene White earned a B.A. from Central State University in Ohio (an historically black institution) and a juris doctorate from Boston University School of Law. Her career in the government sector as a Massachusetts trial attorney reaffirmed her commitment to an equitable legal system. Retired in 2014, Doris returned home, where she indulged a passion for writing, became an amateur advocate for the history of African Americans in these United States and continued active affiliation with San Antonio Black Lawyers Association, Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Jack and Jill of America, Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church and other community organizations. Her husband Steven Soares, daughter Dr. Leigh Soares and son Steven Cooper Soares lead the best “cancer posse” in the galaxy!