My name is Claire, and I am 43 years old. I have worked in education for over 18 years and currently I work with young people who are unable to attend mainstream education due to physical and mental health needs. I have been a type one diabetic since the age of 11 and in 2015 I was diagnosed with stage 1a ovarian cancer. 

In order to understand my cancer journey, I need to go back to 2014. I was 32 and whilst managing my diabetes and general health well, I had a history of heavy periods. One of the benefits of having a long-term condition such as diabetes is that you get to know your body very well so when in late 2014, I developed a niggling pain in my side that did not go away, I knew that something was not right. 

I was very fortunate that I was able to see my GP quickly and again very lucky that she took me seriously. I had seen the same GP for a number of years and the relationship I had with her allowed her to understand that this was a genuine worry and she was more than willing to refer me for some tests. At this point though, cancer was not even on the radar.  

Thus began a rapid and increasingly fortunate series of events. I attended my local hospital for an ultrasound scan. As fate would have it the patient before me had not turned up so the sonographer offered to do both an internal and external scan, although she did not say so at the time she obviously saw something as I was then sent for an MRI scan. It was during this scan that I began to feel things may not be as open and close as I had hoped. It was a simple comment by the radiographer that ‘she hoped it all went well for me’ that left me convinced that there was a bigger issue. When I attended the gynae clinic I was told that there was a mass on my left ovary which the surgeon believed was cancer. It was quite a blunt delivery of the news, and I can’t say that I recall any real compassion from this surgeon, it was very matter of fact, “we think this is it, we are going to do surgery to remove it, we’ll get you booked in”.  

I saw this surgeon only once more, for 15 minutes where he asked me once my thought on fertility.  I want to pause here to say that this is the only part of the process where I feel very let down. , Fertility preserving options were not discussed and there was very little conversation about what would happen if it was not just the ovary that needed to be removed. I remember making the comment that I wanted them to do whatever they needed to get rid of the cancer, who wouldn’t in the same position, but the impact is something that causes me anger and frustration to this day. 

It was at this point that diaries collided, and my surgeon was swapped. This is something that I am forever grateful for. This time round I was met with a compassionate, friendly surgeon who took the time to explain everything and who made me feel that no question was too much. The contrast between the two was dramatic and played such a huge part in how I felt mentally about the operation. 

So in March 2015, I had surgery at my local hospital when my surgeon came to see me on the ward he delivered the life changing news that they had had to carry out a radical hysterectomy. The mass had adhered to my ovary and there was concern that it has already leaked. In order to ensure all the cancer was removed they had taken the decision that a hysterectomy was the best course of action. I know at the time I looked like I took this in my stride and in fairness I did, but the long-term impact of this would hit me much harder as time went on. 

In terms of the cancer, my story pretty much ends there! I did not require any further treatment and other than regular check-ups for the next five years that was it. Now, just over ten years on I am physically fine. Talking about my experience has helped get me to a place where I can accept that it has changed me. I still face everyday challenges, my short term memory, something I used to be very proud of is appalling these days and I know that I am very hesitant now when it comes to relationships. This has ironically got easier as I have got older as having children is no longer the expected route in a relationship but I am still wary of being ‘broken’ in the eyes of other people. Fertility has such a social connection to identity that even if I am ok with it I tend to project the idea that others are not. I now recognise that I have experienced trauma and that because physically I am ‘fixed’, the trauma is still there.