cervical cancer survivor

The ER diagnosed my pain as sciatica instead of advanced cervical cancer

My cervical cancer story started in my 40s. I’d been a single mother to three amazing children. They’d all grown up and I had started taking better care of myself and my health. For many years, I admit, I didn’t do my annual check-ups and Pap smear. I didn’t have insurance, but I also did not make time. I didn’t understand the importance of annual exams. I didn’t know what I was up against.

Tracy at Cervivor School 2019 in Chicago

When I turned 45, I started noticing that my periods were different. I was having pain during intercourse. My lower back and the backs of my legs hurt constantly. I still didn’t have health insurance, so I didn’t go to the doctor. I thought my back hurt because I was trying to get healthier and doing more exercise. I lived with the pain for a while until I finally decided to go to the ER when the pain became worse.  

At the hospital, I was told my pain was a “sciatic nerve” to be treated with ice and heat. They didn’t do a pelvic exam or ask about my reproductive health history or anything about that part of my body. They just assumed they knew what was wrong, and they sent me home.

(I guess they didn’t know what I know now:  that low back pain and pelvic pain can be linked to problems with reproductive organs such as the cervix. That a sign of cervical cancer is pelvic pain – especially continuous pain, like the type I had.)

The pain went on for months. Then a day before my 46th birthday,  I was going to the bathroom and something came out that was not normal – it was what looked to be a piece of flesh, from inside me. I knew right then something was wrong.  The day after my 46th birthday, I went back to the ER. This time, they took me in for a CAT scan. After the scan, the ER doctor came in the room and handed me a card. He told me they saw a mass and that I needed to contact the doctor on the card ASAP. 

I left the hospital crying, confused and scared. I was able to get an appointment for the following day. That doctor found an 8 cm tumor on my cervix. She told me right then, “I am sorry to tell you but you have cervical cancer.”

I did not know what to say or think. I burst out into tears. I knew my life had changed forever. I didn’t know what HPV or cervical cancer was. I was scared I was going to die.

My next six months were all treatment, a lot of it: 28 rounds of radiation, 6 rounds of chemo and 4 rounds of internal radiation also known as brachytherapy – a procedure that involves placing radioactive material inside your body.

The good news: in August 2017, I was told I was cancer free! 

Today I want to teach everyone about HPV, cervical cancer and the other cancers that HPV can cause. I want to encourage all parents of boys and girls to make sure their kids get the HPV vaccine. I want to educate women of all ages to keep up with their annual gyn exams.

I also want to make sure that women and doctors know about the connection between lower back pain and pelvic pain to cervical cancer. While of course back pain and pelvic pain can be caused by many different reasons, it is important to at least be aware of the connection and ask questions. I wish the doctors in the ER had asked me before diagnosing me with sciatic nerve pain. I wish I knew to ask questions myself and to mention my irregular bleeding and pain during sex, even though I was at the ER for “back pain.” Cervical cancer is not something I want anyone else to go through. I am going to work hard for the rest of my life to spread the word and end the stigma.

Tracy Jimenez  is a 2-year cervical cancer survivor from Colorado who recently attended the 2019 Cervivor School, where she learned “that cancer will not stop me and that I will be a voice to educate others. I am a fighter and Cervivor School showed me no one is alone in this fight.”

Read Tracy’s full Cervivor story

Survivorship Badge of Honor

Every time I say the phrase “I’m a cancer survivor,” I feel the weight of the whole experience. I feel the pain, the relief, the pride, the anger, the courage, the happiness, and the uncertainty. Just the other day I was giving blood (first time back since my treatment wrapped) and the lovely folks at the American Red Cross were having a tough time finding a good vein. “I’m a cancer survivor, my veins have been through a lot,” I explained. Translation: I’ve been through a lot.

To me, being a cancer survivor means a myriad of things and its meaning has evolved over time for me. At first, it meant that I had been through something that not many others have. It was like going off to battle, and coming back with a limp and terrible memories. I saw things very few have, I felt things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and I lived through a time of such intense anxiety it was almost paralyzing. I was confronted with my own mortality in a tangible way, and this set me apart from most people in my life.

As you can imagine, this is quite a lot to process. So when I first found out my cancer was gone, I immediately started seeing a therapist to help cope with the stress of the previous year. Because to me, the pain of the whole ordeal almost felt almost more intense after treatment had wrapped. It all came crashing down on me. I felt alone and isolated. I read in a cancer Survivorship book that surviving cancer is like being on a boat in the middle of the ocean with all of your friends and family on shore waiving for you to come in, but you’re unable. That’s exactly what it was to me. We celebrated me becoming a cancer survivor, but my relationship with it was complicated.

One of the challenges with becoming a survivor initially was processing the fact that I had survived when others had not. In fact, the day of my “clean scan party” I found out a woman I had been in treatment with had passed away. She left behind two children and a wonderful husband I had gotten to know in the waiting room of treatment. I remember seeing the information on Facebook earlier in the day and I almost wanted to cancel the party. I felt terrible and guilty for celebrating that I had survived, when she had not. I survived because my body responded to the treatment; I didn’t fight harder than she did. She fought even harder. I just got lucky. This didn’t sit well with me, and motivated me to ensure my cancer Survivorship was put to good use.

Once I had processed all of the complicated feelings I had with being a cancer survivor, I began to heal and come out of the shadows that the disease had cast on my life and my loved ones. I started to view myself as a warrior. A humble one, but a warrior nonetheless. I began to wear my Survivorship like a badge of honor and the most important step for me was starting to reach out to anyone I knew that was battling to offer my support. A very close family friend and a coworker were both diagnosed with breast cancer within a short time and my husband and I offered our support to help get them through.

Now, being a survivor comes with a responsibility to take care of others battling, and to help advance the conversation and medicine so fewer and fewer people have to go through it. It means getting involved with organizations like Cervivor that help women, and to eradicate the stigma of cervical cancer. It means keeping things in perspective, and to have empathy for people around you. Because really, you never know what people are going through on a daily basis. It means not taking life for granted, and for celebrating every birthday like it’s a huge milestone. Gray hairs? Bring them on! I cherish the idea of getting older.

Being a cancer survivor is scary and lonely, but it can be a powerful tool used to help people. My pain has turned into my power and this warrior is ready for anything. It’s Motivation Monday and I am #CervivorStrong!

Read Kate’s Cervivor story here.