My cancer is not breast cancer, it's rectal cancer. People are often grossed out by that adjective, but it doesn't stop me from using it.

When I got my diagnosis on Dec. 26, 2022, I told my kids two days later, after seeing the surgeon. Once they had taken in the news and shared with their respective girlfriends, I told some relatives and a network of friends, both local and far away. I got back the emotional support I needed, from each one according to their personality.

On Nov. 29, 2023, I was told I had a renewed polyp facing a rectovaginal fistula that had developed because of the radiotherapy. Given their location, I needed a total mesorectal resection through a complex two-step surgery. At first, I didn't want to talk about it with anyone, except my husband, kids, sister-in-law, and brother. As my anxiety grew, I wanted to meet people who had undergone a Turnbull-Cutait pullthrough. I could not find anyone anywhere, I could not find any local group for people with colorectal cancer. Therefore I decided to spread the word: I recounted the story of my illness and complications and explained the treatment to many people. Why? To raise awareness about colorectal cancer. And most importantly, to let them know that if they themselves or anyone they know ever has to face the same or a similar situation, they can contact me or give my number.
As some of you have mentioned, people from whom I was not expecting anything were willing to help with practical stuff, like meals for my family, shopping, laundry washing.
I feel no shame if I have to mention that I no longer have a rectum and face a new functional reality.