As an 8-year, two-time cancer survivor, I’ve had friends lovingly tell me they worry that I think about cancer too much through my advocacy work.

My response? “I will never stop thinking about cancer, so I may as well help some people along the way.”

In the summer of 2001, I began to experience pain in my abdomen, lower back pain, fatigue and gastrointestinal distress. After following up with my gynecologist, he advised having routine surgery to remove multiple fibroid tumors.

On Thanksgiving Day in 2001, I awoke from a six-hour surgery to my family weeping at my bedside. At just 30 years of age, I had ovarian cancer.

The cancer had spread, and a radical hysterectomy was performed. As if losing my ability to ever have children wasn’t devastating enough, even worse news loomed: I had no health insurance.

Without insurance, hospitals closed their doors to my plight. I learned about indigent care through my county and began chemotherapy in January of 2002. One month into treatment, the cancer spread to my liver and the lining of my stomach.

By the fall, I was in remission and doctors considered it a modern miracle. One reason I believe I was chosen to stay around for awhile longer: cancer advocacy work.

My fiancé Robert and I formed a general cancer support group at home because during my cancer journey, I had felt so alone. From there, we began volunteering with other cancer organizations, including the Make-A-Wish Foundation, the Lance Armstrong Foundation, the American Cancer Society and of course, the National Coalition for Cancer Survivorship as a Super Advocate, which is a group of actively involved advocates who spread NCCS information to their own networks and report on the goings on of their local survivor communities.

I also speak to medical students through an innovative program called “Survivors Teaching Students.” It’s a nationwide program where ovarian cancer patients share their stories with medical students in the hopes that when they encounter a patient with symptoms of ovarian cancer someday, they can diagnose the disease when it is in the early, more treatable stages.

My five-year cancer-free celebration, or cancerversary, was in November of 2007. It was a special milestone because at this point, my cancer had a minimal chance of recurrence. Unfortunately, my happiness ended abruptly because four months later I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Last summer during surgery, doctors removed my thyroid and 50 surrounding lymph nodes. The cancer metastasized, and radiation was next.

Five days after my surgery, I was lobbying Capitol Hill for increased funding for cancer research and speaking at a local Relay for Life event about cancer awareness and facilitating support groups.
A week after Thanksgiving last year, a full-body scan revealed my thyroid cancer was completely gone and radioactive iodine treatment was not necessary. Another miracle!

Last year, I was honored with two prestigious awards from organizations I spend much time volunteering for: the American Cancer Society with their President’s Award and the Lance Armstrong Foundation with the 2008 LIVESTRONG Challenge Award, presented to me by my personal hero -- fellow cancer survivor Lance Armstrong.

But awards are not the reason I help people. The reason is simple, really. I am living proof miracles happen. All of my energy is devoted to helping find a cure for cancer and making sure those going through the cancer experience do not feel alone. Unfortunately, there is so much work to be done. The way I see it, anyone I am able to help along the way is a divinely-inspired bonus. Everyone deserves a chance to hope. If my cancer journey has taught me anything, it’s that there is always room for hope.