Jo was diagnosed with womb cancer in August 2024, after surgery later that year she was told she had had stage IIIB womb cancer. Reflecting on her symptoms, diagnosis and treatment, Jo offers her key takeaways that might help others facing similar experiences. If you are experiencing any symptoms, make an appointment with your GP and get them investigated.
“I’d take a lot less notice of the inner voice that frequently told me that what I was experiencing is just what women put up with.”
I’m writing this about two weeks after my five-month cancer treatment plan came to an end. I’m still experiencing the side effects of chemotherapy and radiotherapy – I’m more tired than I should be, my cup of tea doesn’t taste quite right and my stomach isn’t entirely sure it’s happy with the chutney I had in my cheese sandwich at lunchtime. On the positive side though, I’m no longer taking any medication and am noticing daily improvements.
I was first diagnosed with womb cancer in August 2024 with the full diagnosis apparent after surgery. By November 2024, I knew I had had stage IIIB womb cancer. The first diagnosis had been a shock. The second, more informed one, was much harder to hear.
Having started at the end of my cancer story (well, it feels like an ‘end’ at this point), where did it all begin? It’s hard to say really. In July 2022, a month before my 54th birthday, I started to write ‘gloopy’ in my diary as a way of noting changes in the pattern of my period. By March 2023, I’d started HRT – patches and pills. What I experienced between then and December 2024 – persistent, clear discharge requiring me to use sanitary pads every day and overnight, frequent heavy bleeding, frequent cramps and exhaustion – led my GP, in December 2023, to advise use of a Mirena coil to manage my, by now, extremely uncomfortable symptoms. Now on the cancer pathway, I had a (very painful) hysteroscopy and biopsy, which revealed a thickening of the uterine lining but no abnormalities. In other words, there was no evidence of cancer at that point.
My menstrual pattern improved for a couple of months but by March 2024 the extreme symptoms returned. I continued to struggle with my symptoms trying various combinations of over the counter painkillers along with my ever-present hot water bottle to keep the cramps at bay (I occasionally added a stiff gin into the mix, but I probably shouldn’t admit to that!). At the same time, the discharge continued with regular heavy bleeding. The level of exhaustion I experienced affected my work and my social life.
In July, I had a second biopsy. This revealed that I had Grade 1 (slow growing) endometrial cancer. I consented to a total abdominal hysterectomy that was carried out in September. My surgery was carried out robotically – one of 300 carried out by Derriford Hospital between February 2022 and April 2025 (BBC News ‘The robot revolutionizing gynaecological surgery’ 23 April 2025). Amazingly, this meant I went home on the same day (not the case for everybody) and my recovery period was only 6 weeks.
By the time I went back to see my surgeon in early November, I was feeling fit and ready to get on with life. We’d even got ourselves a puppy! However, cancer treatment being the rollercoaster that it is, the news was not good. Surgery had revealed that the cancer had made it through to the outer part of my womb close to the part of my body where my uterus had once been. The, now more informed, diagnosis, was Stage IIIB, Grade 1 endometroid adenocarcinoma, a form of womb cancer that can resemble normal uterine lining. So, slow growing and hiding in plain sight. The one significantly good piece of news around this time – after all, its a rollercoaster – resulted from a CT Scan in late November which revealed that I had no secondary tumours elsewhere in my body.
Now referred to the Oncology team, the recommended treatment plan was thorough involving chemotherapy, radiotherapy and brachytherapy over a 5-month period book-ended by Christmas and Easter. This was a ‘belt and braces’, preventative approach and was the most grueling medical intervention I had ever experienced. Throughout it, my medical teams treated me with great professionalism, expertise and empathy. I was dependent and extremely grateful for the continued, loving support of my partner and the frequent encouraging messages from friends and family.
My treatment plan is now at an end and I will remain on the Oncology watch-list for the next 3 years, during which I will have a few check-ins with my Oncologist and annual scans. So, now, I can start to move on and focus on re-building a life post-cancer. I also have time and more energy to reflect on what just happened. This is where I’ve got to so far:
- I would keep a better record of my monthly cycle and take time to check for changes.
- I wouldn’t hesitate to contact my GP if my period became too uncomfortable, too painful, too draining or in any way out of the ordinary. I’ve learned since my diagnosis that womb cancer – one of the 5 gynaecological cancers unique to women – can be hard to diagnose so we need to take notice of what’s happening to our bodies and take action when it feels wrong.
- I’d take a lot less notice of the inner voice that frequently told me that what I was experiencing is just ‘what women put up with’.
- Who to contact can be confusing especially if, like me, you haven’t had much to do with the healthcare system prior to a major diagnosis like cancer. In some cases, its your GP but on other occasions, it will be the Gynaecological team or the Oncology team. I have quite a lengthy list of direct line numbers now!
- I read everything my medical teams gave me, frequently having to look up unfamiliar words to help build my knowledge. I avoided reading too much else online unless from reputable and evidence-based sources.
- I realised very quickly that I had to trust the experts and that there was only so much I could do for myself – but I did try. I turned up to appointments on time, took care with my diet, avoided adding more toxins to my body during treatment (e.g. none of those stiff gins I mentioned earlier!) and so on.
- I celebrated the positives. Any form of cancer diagnosis is awful to hear but along the way there will be some positives, e.g. a good scan result, uplifting messages from friends and family, ongoing support from a loving partner, puppy antics, a sunny day. Taking time to notice the good stuff helped carry me (and my partner) through even the most challenging days.
