The phone call that changed it all!

It was May 2nd, 2025. A Friday, late afternoon. I was just getting ready to go to the grocery store, and my husband was getting ready to go to work when I got a phone call from a random wireless number. Assuming it was spam, I ignored it and continued getting ready. Then I heard a ding on my phone. The caller left a voicemail. I paused to listen to the voicemail and was surprised to hear it was my OB! Calling on her personal cell phone! 

A few weeks earlier, my husband and I switched to a different OBGYN. We had been trying to have a baby for about 5 years with no luck. I also was having periods from hell that I wanted to get under control. In order to see what was going on, my OB put me on Provera for 10 days to force a withdrawal bleed. We then would do an ultrasound to see what was happening in my womb, in addition to lab work. 

I braced myself for hell again, knowing this period was going to be heavy, like all the others. Just as expected, I was out of work for at least a week. I was so sick I could barely stand. And there was so… much… blood. Once my period was done, we did the ultrasound. After bleeding for 10 days straight, the sonographer commented that my lining still looked thick. 

Back in the OB’s office, she concurred that yes, my lining was super thick. She offered to put me on a consistent cycle of Provera to regulate my periods and try to clean my body out naturally, OR we could do a d&c to clean me out, then regulate my periods with medication and hopefully get me to ovulate.

I decided I did not want to continue having such catastrophic periods, so I agreed to surgery. Thursday before Easter, my husband took me to the hospital for what we thought was going to be a quick, and standard procedure to reset me and return my womb to health. My doctor and the anesthesiologist greeted me before the procedure and went over what was going to happen and answer any questions. Among the tasks that were going to be completed, my OB stated, “‘IF’ we find any polyps, we will remove them.” 

What typically takes 15 to 20 minutes took closer to 45. To everyone’s shock, that “if” from my OB came to fruition as I was filled to the brim with polyps. There were so many that my fallopian tubes were completely blocked. “No wonder you couldn’t get pregnant,” she exclaimed. She assured us that now our chances of getting pregnant were good. Despite finding so many polyps, my OB did not notice any calcification, so she did not suspect me to have any infections or cancer. To be sure, she was going to send a tissue sample to a lab for analysis. But she reassured us everything looked fine otherwise.  

After the procedure, I was told that I could expect cramping and bleeding, and to not be alarmed unless the bleeding was excessive. After the procedure, the exact opposite happened. I cramped a little on the first day, but as far as bleeding, there was little to none. For the first time in 2 years, I felt amazing. I wasn’t bleeding at all. I felt so light and free! And most of all, I felt hopeful. Finally, a doctor who really took me seriously, who really investigated my situation and overall health in regards to fertility. Finally, I could have a baby. I was so ready. I had been ready for 5 years! The skies never looked more blue, or the grass more green!

So when I got this phone call from my OB on a Friday evening on her personal cell phone, you can imagine I was shocked. I had my post-op appointment scheduled for that coming Wednesday. It must be urgent for my doctor to call me like that. Nick had to leave for work, but I told him I’d call the doctor and then let him know what she said. 

I sat in the car so I could leave for the store as soon as I got off the phone. I took a deep breath and called my doctor’s cell phone back. “I didn’t want you to see your MyChart results and start Googleing,” she told me. I felt my heart racing. “If you can, I want you to come into the office on Monday instead of Wednesday. Tell them in the office I okayed it.” I felt my body shake as I heard her say the words “Jessica, you have endometrial cancer.” 

I felt my heart drop deep into my stomach. My mother had breast cancer when I was a teenager. I remembered how much suffering she had to go through. My mother had breast cancer in her 40’s and had a double mastectomy. My aunt had breast cancer in her early 40’s, then she had it a second time. My grandmother had breast cancer in her 40’s. She then had it a second time in her 80’s before she passed. When Nick and I said “I do,” we fully expected that at some point in our marriage, we’d have to deal with cancer. We just assumed it would be breast cancer in my 40’s, not endometrial cancer in my 30’s! 

For those reading who don’t know, I had no idea, endometrial cancer is cancer in the uterus, specifically the endometrium. When our dear friend Aunt Flo comes to visit, we women shed our uterine lining, or a cushion of blood that nourishes and protects an embryo. That lining is also called the endometrium. I basically had uterine cancer. 

My OB assured me, endometrial cancer is very, very common with people with PCOS and that it is very treatable. I thanked her for the information and agreed to see her on Monday. I then started driving and called my husband to give him the news. He was very quiet, like he needed a minute to process the words I was telling him. He was at work, but said he was going to call his boss to see if he could leave early to be with me. 

I went about my grocery shopping, just trying to keep it together. Because of my PCOS, I have insulin resistance. Recent blood tests showed I had really high insulin levels, so Nick and I were starting to make efforts to eat healthier. I filled my cart with all sorts of fruits and veggies. As I was almost done, Nick called me to tell me he was able to go home. He also told me he ordered pizza for us. That was it. I burst into tears. Here I was at the store, trying to take control of my health, when all seemed lost. I went from feeling hopeful to hopeless. 

I went home and cuddled in the warm embrace of my husband. I prayed so hard, “God you are bigger than cancer. Please heal me! Help me to trust you. You have gotten us through hard times, and I know you will come through for us now.” 

This was the beginning of my cancer journey. A quick google search told me peach ribbons are used to represent endometrial or uterine cancer. Unlike my mom, my aunt, and my grandma who were all in the pink ribbon club, I became a member of the Peach Ribbon Club. 

My sweet sister-in-law started a GoFundMe campaign for us to help with medical bills and possible fertility treatment. Follow me on social media, join the e-mail list, and check out future blog posts as I share my story. Breast cancer seems to get all the attention in the media. But not all cancer is pink! My aim is to share my story and bring awareness beyond the pink ribbon.