20 Years Since Surgical Menopause – My Ovarian Cancer Journey

The Day Everything Changed

Twenty years ago, at the age of 27, I heard the words that would change my life forever: “You have ovarian cancer.” In that moment, time seemed to stop. I was young, vibrant, and full of dreams—but suddenly, I was thrust into a battle I never saw coming.

It all started with what seemed like a small change—my pants were feeling tight. Thinking I had just gained a little weight, I increased my exercise routine, never imagining that something more serious was happening inside my body. During a routine exam, my doctor mentioned the possibility of fibroids and asked me to come back later that day for a follow-up ultrasound. When I returned, they still weren’t sure what was going on, but they ordered labs. Those labs set everything in motion. I was immediately referred to Duke University Medical Center for a surgical consult. I still didn’t know if it was ovarian cancer, but either way, surgery was necessary.

One week later, I met the Head of the GYN Oncology Department on my way into the operating room. He wore a bow tie and had a quiet confidence about him. That week was the shortest and longest of my entire life—a complete whirlwind that changed everything forever.

Facing the Unknown

I had no idea what to expect. While most women experience menopause gradually over years, my body would be forced into surgical menopause instantly. No gentle transition, no preparation—just a sharp, sudden loss of hormones that would impact every part of my life. And, of course, there was the question everyone around me seemed to keep asking: “Can you still have children?”

That question was a dagger to the heart. At 27, I hadn’t even begun to fully imagine what my future family might look like. And yet, I was already being asked to grieve something I hadn’t even had the chance to plan for. But in the midst of that uncertainty, I will always hold eternal gratitude for my surgeon, who had the very forward thought at the time to preserve my fertility as much as possible. Because of that decision, nearly 10 years later, I was able to have my beautiful daughter—a miraculous gift that I will never take for granted.

The Surgery & Its Immediate Aftermath

The day of surgery arrived faster than I was ready for. I remember lying on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths as the anesthesia crept in. When I woke up, the reality hit: my ovaries were gone, and with them, the natural rhythms of my body had been permanently altered.

The first few days and weeks were brutal. My body was in shock—not just from the surgery but from the sudden hormonal free-fall that followed.

**Hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings, brain fog—**they all hit me like a freight train. I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

And then there was the scar. A physical reminder of the battle I had fought, a mark that would forever tell the story of what I had endured. At first, I struggled with it—I avoided looking at it, touching it, acknowledging it. But over time, that scar became something else: a badge of survival, a symbol of resilience. It was proof that I had made it through, that my body had fought and healed, and that I was still here.

No One Talks About This

One of the hardest parts was realizing how little information there was for someone like me. Most menopause advicewas geared toward women in their 50s, going through it naturally. No one talked about what happens when menopause is forced upon you in your 20s. No one warned me about the deep emotional toll—the sense of loss, the identity shift, the grieving of a body that no longer functioned as it once did.

I felt isolated, lost in a sea of symptoms I didn’t fully understand. But I was determined. I refused to let this define me. I started seeking out ways to support my body, my mind, and my spirit—a journey that would take years of trial and error but would eventually lead me to profound healing.

Looking Back 20 Years Later

Two decades have passed since that fateful day, and I can say with certainty: I always knew I had the strength within me. I didn’t doubt that. But I had no idea how long the journey would be or what it would be like to go through life as a cancer survivor. I'll get more into this in the last article of the four-part series. The journey hasn’t been easy, but it has been transformative. I’ve learned how to listen to my body in ways I never imagined, and I’ve found peace with the experience that I never knew possible.

This is just the beginning of my story. In the next part, I’ll share what it was like to go through chemotherapy, the fight to maintain my sense of self, and how I made the heartbreaking but empowering decision to shave my head before cancer could take my hair from me.

To anyone reading this who is walking a similar path—you are not alone. I see you. I understand you. And together, we can navigate this journey with strength, grace, and resilience.

If this story resonates with you, I’d love to hear your experience. Share your story in the comments or connect with me on social media. And don’t forget to follow along for Part 2 of this 4 part series, where I dive into the next chapter of my journey through chemotherapy.