For four years, I was bleeding for prolonged periods and told, repeatedly, that it was fibroids. My GP dismissed my concerns — I was perimenopausal, they said, as though that explained everything away.

Alongside the bleeding came significant discomfort, and eventually I became deeply depressed and despondent, convinced this was simply how my life would be from now on. 

By 2019, after a particularly prolonged episode, I had reached my limit. A new locum at my surgery suggested I use my private medical insurance to get a second opinion. That decision changed everything. On 8 November 2019 — two days before my birthday — I received a diagnosis of cervical cancer. 

We all have the right to a second opinion. Yet this is something Black and Brown women are so rarely empowered to do. 

I was devastated. And this is the part of my story I speak about most, because whilst symptoms and treatments are well documented, what is far less spoken about is the emotional impact — particularly for women from my cultural background. We grow up hearing the same message: don’t talk our business. So we carry it all inside: the pain, the discomfort, and even a quiet, misplaced shame for being unwell. For not being strong enough. 

After my diagnosis, I told almost nobody. It was the festive season and I didn’t want to spoil anyone else’s joy. I now know I should never have had to carry that responsibility — but where was the support to tell me so at the time? 

In January 2020, I had a full hysterectomy, which placed me into immediate surgical menopause. I was 54, and nothing had prepared me for such a radical change to my body. And then came something no one had warned me about at all — survivor’s guilt. I had survived. Why me, when so many others had not? 

I couldn’t find anything about it from women who looked like me. So now I have to speak about it. 

It is okay to feel what you feel. It is okay to miss the initial blessing of simply being alive — the gratitude does eventually come, trust me. But first, the feelings need space and permission to exist. You need empathetic and nurturing support that lifts and soothes and that’s why I will always support The Eve Appeal in getting across the message that they are here to ensure that no woman regardless of culture or race is left feeling alone. That is why I am here. That is why I choose to speak.