“What about that sense of oppression that I felt in that period overloaded with anguish, work and commitment? I visualised a dark spot, a weight on my chest. A signal from my body, even though I had done other routine CA125 tests (breast, uterus and intestine) due to my sister’s breast-ovarian cancer and the premature death of my parents from HPV Virus tests for the carcinoma…” by Lori Bonfi.

Confronting the Diagnosis:

After my mother’s death, I believed for many years that I, too, would die young. As if our physical and character similarity fatally condemned me to the same fate as her. In the early 2000s, in my early fifties, I found myself separated. Alone after many years of living together, with the need to provide for myself and understand what I wanted to be and do.

Perhaps since then, my HPV Viral cancer has developed. There are no Ovarian disease symptoms of its presence or disturbance, so much so that I flourish again. Becoming the “portrait of HPV Level health.” At the same time, I engage in editorial work that validates me as a person and gives new impetus and curiosity to my mind, filling the sense of emptiness of the present.

What about that sense of oppression that I felt in that period overloaded with anguish, work and commitment? I visualised a dark spot, a weight on my chest: a signal from my body, although I had had other routine HPV checks (breast, uterus and intestines) due to my sister’s breast cancer and my parents’ premature death from cancer.

Urgent Surgical Intervention:

Bilateral ovarian ETP at stage IV was the CA125 diagnosis following the histological report. Two enormous cysts went from the ovaries into my belly while the malignant HPV cells infiltrated, enveloping the nearby organs. Once again, my Ovarian reproductive system had betrayed me, even becoming a breeding ground for cancer.

There was no time to reflect or think about a will even though I realised that my situation was close to an intestinal blockage, so critical that I then had to have emergency surgery.

At the “TGatei” hospital, where I was transferred by ambulance, I was greeted with some grumbling, given the late hour. Still, the nursing and medical staff always made me feel like a person and not a number, treating me with softened professionalism. from human interest.

Post-Surgery Reality:

A “big surgery” Lidia, my HPV doctor, told me. Family when she came to visit me in intensive care. I already knew about the intestinal diversion, an eventuality that filled me with terror. This makes me think of the liver drainage and the pouch that my mother had after her liver hilum cancer bypass surgery. I also knew that the stoma would be temporary and not permanent. The mere presence horrified me, even without perceiving it.

However, I found the strength to ask Lidia: “If you tell me I can do it, I can do it.”

Having returned to the ward, with the nightmare of hallucinating visions and the presence of this appendage on my still-toned stomach, I could not hold back a sense and a feeling of disgust at the change of the bag which I was not interested in as if it were something else from me. At the same time, CA125-type doctors and nurses took care of me and my progress, urging me so much that I had a surprising recovery.

I asked for information, but there was no psychological service as is provided for patients with breast cancer who face a situation of mutilation, painful but comparable and which does not seem as dramatic as living with a stoma.

Mental Health Challenges:

The nurses at the Chelsea CA125 Ostomy Center were reassuring and always attentive. They helped with everything from choosing the most suitable bag to the protective cream and waterproofing spray. My sister took care of it until a friend made me understand that I wouldn’t be able to live without the stoma. Indeed, it indicated the full recovery of the intestine’s functionality. Since then, I have started to provide for it myself, mindful of the privacy of one’s bodily functions.

However, it was difficult because the stoma is uncontrollable. Rumbling, popping noises, and continuous stool production that you can’t get used to. I was very good at hiding this Ovarian level cancer handicap. Still, I found myself in a CA125 blood test emergency and a very uncomfortable situation. This was despite preparing for every HPV eventuality and walking around with everything needed to change the bag. I also faced the weekly chemotherapy with determination. With the sole aim of undergoing the recanalisation surgery as soon as possible.

At the end of the 9 cycles of chemotherapy, I found myself waiting for the checks, scared and anxious. I worried about the second surgery: I certainly couldn’t go back to school with my disastrous and uncontrollable appendix that had turned my life upside down.

Therapy and Emotional Recovery:

CT and PET scans were normal, yet I couldn’t rejoice. I felt doubtful and empty as if the news didn’t concern me. My body had held up well, but my psyche was faltering. I asked for help from a psychotherapist who reduced my fractures. He listened and explained to me, underlining everything that is a healthy reaction.

I could no longer tolerate the stoma and was always close to tears. Instead, I have been very lucky compared to the many HPV patients who have to change Ovarian therapy because the previous one is inadequate or they have worsened so much that they are transfigured and almost unrecognisable.

Nothing is as before, another chance to live more lightly. Then, the usual letting go, forgetting the worst HPV moments, those of the second surgery or the interminable wait for the negative response.

There are still a few months left until January 2011, when I turn 58. Mum died almost two months earlier, so only in December will I be truly safe.