At 25 years old, I was diagnosed with cancer.
My mother said,
“Doctor, please remove everything immediately.”
And I replied,
“I refuse all treatment.”
The air in the examination room froze.
It was a collision between two different kinds of love—
a mother trying to save her daughter’s life,
and a daughter trying to protect her future.
Even between mother and daughter, perspectives can be completely different.
For women hoping to have children, gynecological cancers are a trial that forces one to confront and transcend what it means to be a woman.
It becomes a test of what it means to live as a woman.
｜What Is Uterine Cancer? A Rare Diagnosis for Young Women
Uterine cancer develops in the endometrium, the inner lining of the uterus.
It is most commonly diagnosed in women after menopause, with the highest incidence occurring between their 50s and 60s.
Because of this, cases in women in their 20s are extremely rare.
At the time of my diagnosis, even the university hospital treating me had very few patients my age with the same condition.
Gynecological cancers are generally categorized into three main types:
- Cervical cancer
- Endometrial (uterine) cancer
- Ovarian cancer
When I was 25, the doctor looked at me calmly and said:
“You have uterine cancer.”
At that moment, for the first time in my life,
I felt as if the future I had imagined was suddenly taken away.
｜An Extremely Rare Diagnosis at 25
On the day of my diagnosis, my doctor carefully explained gynecological cancers using diagrams.
These cancers are broadly divided into two categories:
- Ovarian cancer
- Uterine cancer
Uterine cancer itself has two types:
- Cervical cancer, usually caused by a virus
- Endometrial cancer, which is often influenced by hormones
The cancer I had was endometrial cancer.
At the time, it was widely known as a disease that mainly affects women after menopause.
Developing it in one’s twenties was considered extremely rare.
When I received treatment around 1999–2000, therapies specifically designed for young patients with endometrial cancer were still not well established.
Most gynecological cancers affecting young women were cervical cancer.
For those patients—especially unmarried women who had never given birth—there were sometimes treatments that allowed them to preserve their fertility.
But for endometrial cancer, such options were extremely limited.
｜My Mother’s “Remove Everything” and My “Refusal”
My mother had been called to attend the consultation.
As soon as the doctor finished explaining the diagnosis, she said:
“Doctor, please remove everything immediately.”
I answered instantly.
“I refuse all treatment.”
The room went silent.
Our doctor stared at us for a moment, stunned by the sudden argument unfolding between mother and daughter.
For my mother, the priority was simple:
Her daughter had to survive.
I understood that.
But at that time, losing my uterus felt like losing everything connected to my future:
- Marriage
- Children
- Family
My mother had already lived those chapters of her life.
She had married.
She had given birth.
She had experienced life as a woman.
But I had not even begun.
｜My Mother Was Also a Cancer Survivor
I understood my mother’s fear.
She herself had experienced lung cancer at the age of 42.
Her surgery required a 40-centimeter incision along her back, and two of her ribs were removed.
I was 14 years old at the time.
She knew firsthand that cancer can progress quickly in younger patients.
That experience shaped her decision.
For her, choosing life—no matter the cost—was the only option.
｜Three Months of Hormone Therapy: A Small Hope
In the end, my doctor respected my wishes.
He proposed a compromise:
Three months of hormone therapy.
During that time:
- Hormone medication would be administered
- Several procedures would remove parts of the uterine lining
After three months, we would check whether the cancer cells had disappeared.
If they had, there was a possibility that my uterus could be preserved.
I chose to believe in that possibility.
But three months later, the test results showed the same truth:
The cancer cells were still there.
If nothing was done, the cancer would eventually spread.
And eventually, it would kill me.
That was the moment I finally made my decision.
｜The Day of Surgery — My Father Was There
On the day of my surgery, my father came to the hospital.
I had already moved out of my parents’ home, and my father was living separately for work.
I had never seen him take a day off before.
“I’m going in now.”
Those were the only words I said before quietly walking into the operating room.
Later, I learned the truth.
My mother had been worried that I might try to run away from the hospital.
So she asked my father to come.
But by that time, I had already made peace with my decision.
｜My Mother’s Cry Echoed Through the Hospital Ward
As I slowly regained consciousness from anesthesia, I thought I heard someone crying loudly somewhere in the distance.
When I opened my eyes slightly, I realized I had already been moved back to my hospital room.
Later, when I woke up again, my parents were standing beside my bed.
My father’s eyes were red.
My mother looked as if she had been crying.
I asked my father,
“I think I heard someone screaming earlier… Was that just my imagination?”
He answered quietly.
“No. You heard it.”
My mother had not simply been crying.
She had been screaming.
Because the doctors had shown my parents the organs that had been removed during surgery.
In life, very few parents will ever see their daughter’s uterus or ovaries.
But mine had.
｜When Misfortune Attracts the Wrong People
When people experience tragedy, certain individuals suddenly appear.
They came to our house as well.
They said things like:
“Your ancestors are angry.”
“If you do not perform proper rituals, your daughter will not survive.”
Then they recommended expensive altars and protective charms.
But I thought about it carefully.
If I were to die, would I want my family and friends to suffer afterward?
Of course not.
So I said this:
Even if I were to die, I sincerely hope that my parents, my friends, and my colleagues will live long and happy lives — even living the years I cannot.
And if any curse or resentment truly exists from our ancestors, then I will carry all of it myself.
At that moment, my mother spoke.
“Why should you carry it?
If anyone must carry that burden, then I will go first.”
The religious visitors were stunned.
They never returned to our home again.
｜The Reality: Stage 3B
Before the surgery, several tests were performed:
- MRI scans
- Tumor marker tests
Both appeared normal.
However, the removed organs revealed the truth.
A tumor about 8 millimeters in size was found.
At the time of diagnosis, my cancer had been classified as Stage 1B.
But during the three months of treatment, the disease had progressed.
The final diagnosis became Stage 3B.
As a result, chemotherapy was no longer optional.
It was necessary.
｜The Quality of Life I Wanted to Protect
Standard surgery for uterine cancer typically removes:
- The uterus
- The ovaries
- The fallopian tubes
- Surrounding lymph nodes
In many Western countries, lymph node removal is commonly performed.
However, removing lymph nodes can sometimes lead to lymphedema, a condition where fluid builds up in the legs.
In severe cases, the legs swell significantly, making it difficult even to wear a skirt.
I told my doctor something important.
“I want to live my life as normally as possible after surgery.”
Of course, survival was the top priority.
But if it was medically possible, I hoped my lymph nodes could be preserved.
My doctor carefully explained both the advantages and the risks.
In the end, every decision about my treatment was made by my own choice.
And those decisions are part of the reason my Quality of Life today remains what it is.
｜Three Lessons About Quality of Life
1
Ideals and reality are not the same.
But the moment we accept reality, we can finally move forward.
2
Decisions we make for ourselves rarely become regrets.
3
Even in the hardest situations, we can still protect our dignity.
This was only the beginning.
Soon, the real battle would begin:
Chemotherapy.
Changes in my body.
And the emotional storm that followed.
To be continued in Chapter 6.
