I was diagnosed at the ripe old age of thirteen with an extremely rare form of ovarian cancer that had developed over my left ovary. After months of misdiagnoses from the doctors, my tumour had grown into the large size of a watermelon inside my stomach and I, along with every doctor and specialist I saw, had no idea it was even there. It soon developed large cysts, which caused the tumour to rupture inside my stomach, giving me the most traumatic and gut-wrenching pain I have ever felt. Twelve days later, I was diagnosed with cancer. This soon became a word I knew everything about; more than a thirteen-year-old girl should ever know and it left me with a scar from hip to hip. My body, my emotions and my pride, went through one hell of a battle through chemotherapy. I was lucky enough to have my beautiful mother and father by my side every step of the way. Due to the severity of the cancer and the chemotherapy, it has never been a given as to whether I am capable of having children; something that has always been a dream for me.
At first I looked at my scar as an ugly reminder of the pain I suffered and the traumatic experience I went through. I now look at it as a reminder of my strength and bravery, and ability to fight anything that comes my way. I also see it as a part of me – something that defines me as unique. My scar is me, my journey is me, and I am more proud than I could ever imagine to wear the word ‘survivor’ across my stomach.