In her mid-40s Michelle had built a life full of routines, responsibilities, and the comforting predictability of the ordinary, so nothing could have prepared her for the moment she heard the gynecologist’s words: "You have cervical cancer."
As Michelle faced the daunting journey ahead, she began to unravel layers of herself — discovering new strengths, confronting old fears, and reimagining what it meant to be alive. This is her story of survival, transformation, and the power of hope in the face of the unexpected.
While experiencing symptoms of perimenopause, I decided to mention it to the nurse during my routine smear test. The symptoms included erratic bleeding and groin pain among others. At the time, I wasn’t overly concerned, I just assumed it was all part of the natural changes that come with being a woman my age.
I am a mother of two adult sons, and I was a full-time hairdresser, so the demands of my daily routine continued, and I didn’t think any more of it. I pushed the worry aside, assuming whatever was happening with my body would pass, just like so many other things had in the past.
But, 10 days later, I received some horrifying and completely unexpected news. The symptoms I had been experiencing weren’t due to perimenopause, and instead I was diagnosed with Adenocarcinoma in situ. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but as soon as I heard the word "carcinoma," my mind jumped to one conclusion: cancer.
The shock left me numb and unsure of what was going to happen next and consumed by a sense of helplessness I had never experienced before.
I went for a colposcopy and a cone biopsy. It was after this that that the dreaded news was delivered: You have cervical cancer. The word felt foreign, almost unreal. I never imaged something so devastating could touch my life. While my treatment options were being explained to me, I couldn’t comprehend the gravity of what was being said. Some of the things I picked up from that conversation were that I had a 4cm tumour in my cervix and that it had spread, and that my best treatment options were chemotherapy, radiation, and brachytherapy.
Sitting down and telling my two adult sons that I had been diagnosed with cervical cancer was the hardest conversation I have ever had to face. They had already been through so much, losing their father a decade ago, and I could see the worry all over their faces. I assured them there was no way I was giving up without a fight. I knew that the battle was just beginning, and though I couldn’t promise them that it would be easy, I could promise them that I would do everything in my power to be there for them—just as I always had.
What came next was overwhelming – a whirlwind of doctors, appointments, and endless tests. I had radiation daily for five weeks, chemotherapy weekly, and four sessions of brachytherapy.
I was caught up in the frenzy of it all, but when the treatments ended, it felt like everything came to a sudden halt. I returned home and the weight of solitude hit me harder than anything I had faced during the treatments. I tried to find support, to connect with others who had walked the same path, but there was nothing. I felt invisible, as if I was battling this fight all alone. It sounds crazy to say that out loud considering I had amazing support from my family, but none of them had experienced this illness and I just wanted to be able to connect with others who had.
It was during this time that I was invited to be a guest speaker at a cervical screening evening. At first I hesitated, unsure of whether I was ready to share my story. But, as I stood there, speaking to a room full of women, I realized how therapeutic it was to connect with others who truly understood the weight of what I was going through. It turned out to be one of the most healing experiences I could have asked for. During the evening, I was told about the Ngā Kete Cancer Support Group, a community that offered not just information, but empathy and solidarity.
I was nervous about going at first, unsure of what to expect. But, once I arrived, I immediately felt at home. There was a sense of warmth and understanding in the room that made me feel safe. I was surrounded by people who had experienced what I had, even if our cancer diagnoses were different. We had all been through similar treatments, and it was such a relief to talk openly with others who truly understood. I could ask questions about what I was feeling, wondering if certain things were normal, and find comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone. The sense of validation and acceptance I found there was overwhelming. For the first time in a long time, I felt connected and no longer isolated in my experience. Their support became a lifeline.
The Cancer Kaiarahi kaimahi, Jo and Barbara, were like a ray of sunshine during one of the darkest times of my life. I only wish I had known about their service from the beginning—what a difference it would have made. Their support went far beyond just practical help; they nurtured my mental well-being and gave me a sense of belonging when everything felt so uncertain. They were my safety net, always there with genuine care and interest in how I was really doing. It wasn’t just about checking in; they truly wanted to know how I was holding up, and that made all the difference.
I often wonder where I would be mentally if I didn’t have the kaimahi and the group in my corner. They’ve made me feel welcome, validated, and, most importantly, no longer alone. It’s a blessing I’ll forever be grateful for.
I’m in remission now, and looking back, I can hardly believe how far I’ve come. With the constant encouragement and firm belief of the kaimahi, I was able to find strength I didn’t know I had. Last year, I achieved something I once thought was impossible: I graduated from S.I.T with a Level 4 certificate in Health and Wellbeing / Mental Health and Addiction. Their support, both emotional and practical, played such a crucial role in getting me to this point. They helped me realize that healing isn’t just about the body—it’s about the mind, too.
To think that I now have the knowledge to help others who may be facing their own struggles is incredibly fulfilling. I couldn’t have done it without them.
