Last year, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer (stage III), rare for women of color under 50. It all happened rather unceremoniously. After months of suffering what I thought were gastrointestinal problems, and weeks of popping pills for heartburn, I had the dreaded conversation with my ob/gyn. It went like this: “Sorry dear. Looks like you’re going to have to get everything taken out.”
Yep, she actually said that. Just like that. No cajoling, no reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. You know how people say they see their entire lives flash before them when they think the end is near? I know now what that’s like, and it ain’t pleasant. You realize all the missed opportunities you had and all the time you spent speeding through life. All I kept thinking was this wasn’t supposed to happen to me. And it really wasn’t. 
I am a classic example of what happens when doctors engage in race- and age-based bias. Ovarian cancer primarily affects older white women, not a 30-something black editor and writer ready to conquer the world. It never occurred to my doctor, who is also a black woman, that a cyst on my right ovary would metastasize. In fact, when I explained my symptoms and went in for a visit, she told me that my chances of having ovarian cancer were really low. The only thing that turned out to be low is the five-year survival rate for ovarian cancer patients, about 20 percent for those diagnosed at stage III. Once you’re at that point, it’s likely that the cancer has spread. Mine had.
But I wasn’t ready to die. In fact, I was highly perturbed that this malignant tumor had surfaced just as everything was starting to go right for me. My boyfriend and I were talking about marriage and having a family. And in one moment, all that seemed impossible. No babies, no experiencing pregnancy, no seeing my soon-to-be-husband proud of what was growing in my belly. I was having serious doubts about my womanhood, not to mention how I’d look with no hair and my sex life post-hysterectomy.
Over the course of my treatment, however, I realized that I had to redefine womanhood for myself. I wasn’t going to be the guest of honor at my own pity party. I had seen my mother and sister both beat their cancers. I had come from a 
family of survivors. It was then that I decided that I was going to kick this cancer’s ass and reclaim that oh-so-cliched mantel of strong black woman. Only this time it would be on my terms. I started by shaving my head. Why wait for my hair to fall out? I was going to one-up this cancer, if not physically then mentally. I was going to be beautiful with a bald head and all woman despite losing 25 pounds, and with it all my curves.
Here I am, seven months later, post-chemo and documenting the journey. I’ve gotten over myself and the plans I had for my life. Now I have a new plan: Remain cancer free, get married to my boyfriend, and start a family. Oh, and be a fabulous editor and writer in New York City. It’s possible.
Chana, this brought tears to my eyes! Is that corny? Sorry! I am so, so proud of you, and inspired by your courage. I heard that courage in your voice shortly after your diagnosis. But your first-person account of how you plan to “kick cancer’s ass” just completes the image I have you. You remind me of my cousin, who is beating breast cancer as we speak. You’re both my sheroes! Stay strong! — Stacy
Chana, it's very courageous of you to share your journey and victory. For sure your story will be an inspiration to many others. I'll be looking forward to updates.
All things are possible to those that believe…
Peace & many blessings,
mb
Chana! When I saw the URL for your blog, I thought, What an odd name for her blog. I imagined that perhaps you had cancer before we knew each other, that it was just one of those unusual facts from someone’s past that you learn years after you meet them, and that it was irrelevant. Then as I read the first sentence, my heart sank. I had no idea you were dealing with this. You’re fearless, fabulous, and inspiring. And, this is obvious to people who’ve seen you because you’re beautiful, but girl, you look good bald!
Chana I had no idea. I lost my cousin a couple of weeks to ovarian cancer (stage IV). She was 53.
I am still grieving and doing my best to learn about this disease. Thank you for sharing your experience.
You are just as beautiful as I remember. Stay strong and healthy.
You are my hero and I love you
YOU GO GIRL!!! (GI:JANE ain’t got nothing on you ma’!)
You are truely a “superwoman” and I so proud to have you as a friend.
YOU ARE AN INSPIRATION to all, whether we’re dealing with our own adversity or simply speeding thru life without a care. Just go on and reclaim your mantel now because your STRENGTH, BEAUTY, and COURAGE epitomize the definition of “strong black woman”! That cancer didn’t know who it was messin’ with! You’ve always got my support and prayers.
Luv it & luv you more! So proud to have been a witness of your strength & grace being tested.
Chana, I am so proud of you. This blog is wonderful. Keep it coming!
-Nat H.
Question: Why am I not surprised that you kicked cancer ass?
Answer: Because over the 15 years that I have been blessed to know you, you have always come through like the queen and champion that you are!
It is no wonder to me that the beautiful young women who I have seen graduate from Howard, later get a Masters from NYU in journalism, and become one if the fiercest writer/editor in NYC do anything BUT meet the challenge of kicking cancer’s ass.
You know how proud I am of you and how much I love you. Thank you for sharing your story and inspiring us all.
DD
Chana… now that you have beaten fear, the sky’s the limit!
Johnny
Chana, you’re amazing and so brave. Honestly, I had no idea when I saw you on New Year’s Eve all that you’d been through — I had no inking till later that night, when I overheard you say to someone that you had been sick. To me, you were the same vibrant, beautiful, hilarious Chana, with a fierce new haircut — and you still are. Much love to you, and gratitude for sharing your story.
–Dawnie
Wow! Chana, I didn’t know. Way to go, girl! I recently was diagnosed with a rectal carcinoid tumor that luckily had not metastasized. But I do now know that feeling of re-living in hindsight and thinking “if only, I had…” Thank God for life and thank God for you.
Wow.. what can I possibly add to the above comments that sum up everything about the girl that I love dearly. Throughout your experience whilst others may have crumbled you remained focused and strong. You never lost your ability to love life, laugh and exude the same positivity that you have had since day one that I met you.
You were and are truly an inspiration to me as well as all other people on here that are also proud to call you their friend. Words can’t express the how proud I am of you and I look forward to the next chapter and that dress i’m gonna wear to the wedding lol. Love you girl.
Juliette
I am overjoyed that you had the power to overcome such a potentially devastating and life ending disease. I believe that your story will positively jolt and refresh the minds and hearts of many. The eloquence you have to tell the story is very inspirational for people who need hope. I hope you will write a book about your story and give it to Opera and anyone that will listen. I hope that I can also refer people to you for additional inspiration. I do have one question. What role did God play in overcoming this disease?
Truly amazing testimony! Thanks for sharing and giving hope to those of us who need it.
-Conisha
WOW Chana! That made me tear up! You are AWESOME!!! And I must also say quite beautiful bald or with a low cut;) I am so proud of you and have faith that all your dreams come true!!! Good luck girl!
Chanster… you are that woman we all wish we could be. Cancer better be scared of you! And girl no matter if there is hair or no hair, 25 lbs heavier or lighter, you are one sexy lady inside and out.
love you
Give the glory to our God, and much praise to your courage and determination to survive. You are one of kind, and I always thought of you as a sister. To be honest when I heard the news I realized how weak I am. I could not even bring myself to contact you, let alone see you. My grandmother died from colon cancer and watching that as a child was so painful. As result I dislike hospitals, I can not bear to see someone close to my heart ill. Needless to say, I cried and cried in my office bathroom when I was told, angry and hurt that this was allowed to happen.
Then I had to face there is no why, and try to be strong and I still could not. Finally I managed to reach out to Calida, and she reminded me how strong and divine you are, and how you were going to beat this cancer thing and be just fine.
I thank you for doing just that Chana, we all need you here and I’m glad you were aware this. I’m glad you have new plans, I’m glad, I’m glad, I’m glad.. I’m just forever glad for you more than you know.. and of course I love you.
do I feel like an ass! Earlier today I commented on your chic new short hair style and joked about inane things—not knowing all that you’ve been thru in this past year. It’s only because someone at the end of the day asked if I’d seen your blog and of course I was totally ignorant.
Chana, I loved you then and I love you more today. Talk about strength, faith, optimism, belief in self—all the attributes one needs to slay the ugly dragon. You’ve always been beautiful, inside and out, even when I gave you a hard time because copy or pages were late.
You’re joy for life can never be conquered by this mindless disease. I can’t help from feeling that somehow I can’t do enough to comfort you. But, maybe my hand of friendship and support will be enough for right now.
The condition of my leg and knee are no comparison. You are now my hero. I will conquer this feeling of feeling not being good enough because of a limp. I’ll not feel insecure because I don’t fit the mold. Gyrl, You look great! I’m in your corner–N
Superwoman!!!!!
I applaud your courage to take the c-monster head on, and personally, I love the short look on you better!
Oh, it is sooooo possible!
You’ve lived some life, Chana — and you’ve come through it with grace, dignity and power. Those of us in your circle are warmed by the light that emanates from you.
Love you!
StephElam
When I learned about your diagnosis, Chana, it was so surreal. Through prayer, I was already fighting for the lives and health of every single member of my immediate family and other loved ones and their families. I was starting to think there was some kind of conspiracy going on. Well, I will tell anyone who’ll listen that God does indeed answer prayers. And I count you as one of His recent miracles.
Having watched you go through this, I can say that I’ve never seen anyone face such a sudden and overwhelming diagnosis with less self-pity or more determination. Cancer picked the wrong chick!
Alisa
YOU GO!!!!!! ahhh words escape me…..so since i know you r a reader i would suggest manual of a warrior of light by pablo coehlo and traveling mercies by annie lamont. both helped me tremendously in me struggle….
I am blown away, Chana. Your outstanding beauty, grace, humor and strength has always inspired me! This story, your story, is out of control and I can’t wait for your blog to become a best seller and inspire young women (all women) around the world. Since hearing of your journey and having the pleasure of connecting with you, I’ve prayed a little harder for you and the life you imagine. Linda Carter, I feel you!! Forever in your corner and here when you need me.
Crystal [sister at heart;)]
Chana, you’ve always been stronger than most, but now I know: You’re the strongest person I know. And that’s saying a lot, considering our crew ain’t to be messed with, LOL! But seriously, the eloquent way you’ve expressed your experience, the frank and honest look at your emotions and fears and truimphs, is unique in the blogosphere, and I look forward to reading about journey in the posts to come. Thank you for having the courage to share your story, and for being such a beautiful part of my life. P.S. Your boyfriend is a lucky guy!
Chana…wow I’m just reading this now. Had no idea you dealt with this last year. Kudos to you for being so brave and tackling this head-on. You are absolutely right that our view (and thus expectations) on life changes…or rather shifts gears based on new experiences. I whole-heartedly believe that life is all about change and adaptation. I’m dealing with a relatively new issue in my son’s life that occured from a choking incident. Relatively minor (at least I’m hoping as he hasn’t been eating); but the point is what we think is going to happen tomorrow based on yesterday changes everyday due to new challenges that are put in our path. We can either spend our energy lamenting for what was or what we hoped to be; but as you’ve found, the best way is to deal head on, say..”yes, this might suck”; but..to deal with it (warts and all) and come out a stronger person for it. Thanks so much for sharing. I’ll catch up on your other entries and look for more in the future. Stay strong sista!
And another thing….you totally rock that short chic hair-do!
Fabulous. Linking today.
You are a beautiful, incredible woman. Thank you for sharing your story.
Linked from Ta-Nehisi. In one of those coincidences the Net seems to be full of, I had a pap smear the other day and was thinking about cancer– I’m 33, but had done an interview at work with a woman who had to have a full hysterectomy around this age. (She was pre-cancerous.)
This is one hell of a post. I’ll be adding you to my RSS feed.
Thank you so much for sharing your amazing and inspiring story with us.
Where do such horrible doctors come from? I’m in medical school, and I can’t imagine any of my peers saying something like that, and yet I hear stories like that all the time. So then I get nervous….are some of the people around me (or I myself??!!) going to be one of those kinds of doctors?
Your blog teaches us how to do better.
you look even more beautiful w/ your hair shaved!
Also linked from TNC. My wife was diagnosed with cancer two weeks after her 30th birthday.
One time, we had gone to the nearest big city, and she had several appointments with oncologists and scans and so on. One of the doctors was running late enough that she was going to miss her next appointment, so I told her I would stay with the scans and talk to the doctor. When I went in to see him, I explained the situation, and he said, “That’s okay. I don’t need to see the body.”
The jackass referred to my wife as “the body.”
I don’t know how oncologists do it, and I understand that they cannot possibly be as emotionally invested in every case as the patient and patient’s family. But damn.
Anyway, thank you for this post. Godspeed in your life.
Great story, sounds like a greater woman. Big ups ma!
k1
ryanculver.blogspot.com
Chana,
I came here from a link on Ta-Nehisi’s blog and I’m so glad I did.
You look beautiful with a bald head. I know your plate is full right now, but you may want to consider sharing your badass self and story with the kids at St. Baldricks at some point.
Stay Strong,
Hill Rat
You freaking GO, girl. Damn! Very inspiring.
Linked from Ta-Nehisi as well, and I’m so glad I did. We will never meet, I’m a middle-aged white woman in D.C., but as the Quakers say, I will hold you in the light.
Here from Ta-Nehisi. Thank you for sharing your story. And you look beautiful.
Sending you lots of prayers and positive thoughts, but it seems like your family has taught you what you need to know about survival, and you’re putting it to work. Good for you.
Here from TNC. The Big C is on a tear through our family too. No answers; only questions, tear and resolve. Our thoughts are with you.
Fiercely, beautifully written. I look forward to reading more. Blessings on you in this battle.
hang tough sister. show us all how.
Fuck yes, Chana! You’re going to destroy this cancer and send a message to every other damned thing in this universe that wants to get in your way that you’re not to be stopped. God bless, and you’re a knockout with your head-shaved (I like it better, personally).
I’m a Catholic priest from the Ta Na Hesi blog. I’m getting all the saints and angels on your case hon. Get well soon
Here from Ta-Nehsi. In the immortal words of Bart Simpson, this both sucks and blows. Honestly, cancer is a fucker and I am so sorry that you have to deal with this shit. I send you my best and warmest wishes and am holding you in heart. MC
God bless you and keep you.
Thank you for sharing your story and your strength.
Hang in there, kiddo — we’re pulling for you.
Chana,
I'm a friend of Ta-Nehisi & Kenyatta's, linked over from his blog, and just read about your awe-inspiring reaction to the news about your cancer. It made me want to share a story about my aunt, a Moroccan-Jewish woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer and told she had a year to live. That was about fifteen years ago. She's since seen two of her grandchildren born, traveled the world, continued working and served as a model for a lot of her relatives and friends. I'm certain you are doing the same. Best wishes & stay strong, though it seems you don't need any guidance or urging on that front! -Eyal
Hey Chana:
I admire your spirit. Continue to stay strong.
God blesses you.
I am sorry to hear that your doctor didn’t prepare you a bit better for the need to do complete surgery.
Doctors often forget that there are the outlier patients, the ones getting cancer at very young ages, and go through the statistically more likely diagnoses and nonsurgical procedures before getting it right. As you know (but readers might not know), the screening tests for ovarian cancer (CA125 and ultrasound), as well as the symptoms, are not very specific or sensitive, and the ultimate test is surgery.
Chana, you are blessed and highly favored. This is one of the most inspirational stories I have ever heard. Some people look outward for inspiration. All you have to do is look within yourself for it. You’ve always been a fighter. I’m really happy that you continue to be. Thanks for inspiring so many others. -Calvin
Chana, you ROCK! I am SO rooting for you, SO inspired by you, SO proud of you, SO appreciating your courage…this right here, believe it or not, will turn out to be your blessing in disguise.. The rest of your long, healthy life is going to be that much more profound, that much more LIVED! I love it…
WOW – I always knew you were a wonderful woman, but now I see your spectacular, wow. You have truly inspired me. Thank you for being so honest, candid and inspirational. THANK YOU, YOUR BEAUTIFUL.
Chana,
I have always thought of you as an amazing woman. Now, I have extra proof! Your strength and inner will power to prevail says so much about who you are. And your words will be the force that sets you free! Thank you for including me in your journey.
Will
-theceo
Hi, Chana. My husband is friends with your boyfriend, and he referred me to your site this morning. This particular post brought tears to my eyes. Very inspiring.