It’s a scary feeling to know that your body is slowly killing you. This was what I learned after a short phone call from my doctor in Florida, informing me that my benign ovarian cyst was not actually benign at all - it was a rare form of ovarian cancer. This all came as a complete shock to me and my family. I’d had a small outpatient surgery to remove a cyst that my doctor had never even mentioned could be cancerous and I was overall extremely healthy. 

 

Gynecological cancers are often called the “silent killers” because of how infrequently they’re accurately diagnosed in a timely manner. I only had one symptom: numbness in my hands and feet. Before I was diagnosed with Dysgerminoma, I was told that this was dehydration, an unspecified autoimmune response, an allergic reaction, and possibly Multiple Sclerosis. My mother and I pushed these doctors for more and more tests and scans to find some sort of answer, until an ultrasound finally revealed the cyst. It was tiny. At only two millimeters, it seems so miniscule, so insignificant. But it was two millimeters of cancer, and no one had ever informed us that cancer was a possibility. 

I was in my sophomore year of college and twenty one years old. Suddenly, cancer became my full-time job. I spent most of that semester in and out of the hospital, thankfully now taken care of by Dr. Elena Ratner, a fantastic doctor who finally listened to my concerns and worked with me to stay in school while completing treatment. 

I went through another surgery to remove the entire ovary, and after the biopsy was informed that because my doctor in Florida did not consider the possibility of the cyst being cancerous and did not take the necessary precautions to prevent the spread, I would have to undergo three rounds of preventive chemotherapy. I lost all my hair. I had scars all over my abdomen from surgeries. I did not feel like a normal college student, and it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced. 

 

I then realized how incredibly lucky I am. This specific type of cancer I had is often not identified until later stages because its symptoms are minimal and often confused with menstrual symptoms. I realized that my one symptom, my numb hands and feet, went away after we had identified that I had a cyst, we had not even taken it out yet. I now know that was my body speaking to me. I knew something was wrong, and had I not pushed for an answer I would not have been so lucky to finish treatment with one good ovary and as close to a cure as one can possibly get. 

 

I started filming within a day of my diagnosis. My passion for filmmaking began in high school, and I knew, no matter how difficult it would be, that I had to film everything. I began developing a documentary short film about my story, titled At the End of a Dance. The title comes from my favorite quote, “I’d like to die breathless, spent at the end of a dance.” This quote exemplifies one of my realizations after spending months unable to dance because of treatment - What a privilege it is to be out of breath at the end of a dance. The film follows me through diagnosis and treatment to performing again with my dance team and at Discovery to Cure’s annual Beverly Levy Walk. This film has unprecedented access to the realities of cancer treatment for young people today and audiences will watch the story unfold in real time from the lowest point in my life to the most fulfilling, most passionate and happiest moments of my life. I will enter post-production on this project this summer. 

 

In every difficult moment, there was a lesson to be learned or a memory that I’ll cherish forever. I could choose to remember this time in my life through all the things I lost, but I choose to remember all the things I gained. I hope to share this message of hope and reframe the cancer experience in these terms for young patients like myself. It is a special privilege to call yourself a cancer survivor. I truly believe that this was meant to happen to me, and it’s my duty to tell my story, advocate for timely diagnosis and support others in the way they supported me.