There is no easy way to hear “you’ve got a 7cm tumor on your ovary and we have no idea what it is.” Especially when you’re a 32-year-old girl who really wants to have children. Oh, and to live.

This is how 2018 began for me. I felt like I was trapped in a giant emotional washing machine. One minute I was getting splashed with horrifying diagnoses. The next I was drowning in fear. All strength was squeezed out of me. Occasionally small bubbles of hope would form, only to be crushed by what felt like the biggest injustice in the world.

I don’t want to burden you with the details. If you have been through something similar, you already know how it feels. And if you haven’t, I sincerely hope you never do. What I want to focus on is how I managed my fear – because the learning is valid for everyone.

I personified my problem

There was an unidentifiable object inside of me. It did not belong there. It was unwanted. And scary. “You will be called The Alien,” I informed it. It conceded. I asked all my family and friends to refer to it as The Alien. That felt much lighter than the dreaded c-word.

Giving it an identity allowed me to communicate with it. “Alien, I am bigger than you. And soon I am getting rid of you. Mua-ha-ha-ha!” I would proclaim, like a superhero that is about to save the day. Good communication is 2-way. Since I consider myself a good communicator, I thought it polite to ask The Alien a question:

“What message do you have for me?”

The Alien revealed all the things I had known yet had refused to act on. “You are impatient – you have all the time you need. You are indignant – remember life doesn’t owe you anything. A bit of gratitude would help.” I continue to learn from The Alien every day. Whilst unwelcome, it is a powerful teacher.

As I conversed with The Alien, new energy began to surface. Confidence. Empowerment. I realised I hold the power in this relationship. I choose how to see The Alien and how to respond to it. Humour, an unlikely energy also appeared. In the darkest of times, we began to joke about eliminating The Alien. There was even some laughter in between the worry and the tears. Humour made everything more bearable for me and my family.

I sketched my problem 

My surgeon had told me he would need to remove my left ovary in order to get The Alien out. I wasn’t about to just give up half of my potential babies, so decided to bargain with him. By sketching out alternative methods of Alien extraction:

I opened my eyes after the procedure and, except for “How did it go?”, I had only one thing on my mind – “Where is my baked potato with vegetable ragout?” They make the best baked potatoes with vegetable ragout in the Royal Marsden hospital in London. You cannot imagine my shock and horror when they said “You’re fine, but there’s no baked potato.” I had to meditate to get over that.

Joke aside, jokes really help to keep positivity up. And fresh air helps with jokes.