Ebony’s Stage N2 Muscle-Invasive Bladder Cancer Story

This interview has been edited for clarity. This is not medical advice. Consult with your healthcare provider for treatment decisions.

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Introduction and First Symptoms

That’s how it started over 2 years ago, pre-COVID actually. I proceeded with the urologist. They couldn’t find anything. I had different scans [and] different scopes that were performed and initially couldn’t find anything. 

He said, “We’ll just keep you on a schedule. You’ll just keep coming every 6 months, and we’ll check on you.” I didn’t have any other red flags. Generally very healthy. [I] never went to the doctor except for my physicals. [I was] not on any other medication, [and I had] no high blood pressure, cholesterol, diabetes, no other health issues. [I] was pretty active. 

The doctor was kind of like, “We’re not seeing any smoking gun, so we’ll just keep watching you.” That’s how it started. [I] didn’t have any pain [and] no other symptoms.

Looking for potential causes

We looked at several things. We initially thought it was a UTI, so I was prescribed an antibiotic and then thought, “Okay, we’re good to go.” It kept going, so then the next thing was, “Okay, let’s check your IUD. Go back to your gynecologist, check the placement of your ID, [and] make sure that that’s in place.” 

What scope did they perform?

I can’t remember the technical term right now, but it was a scope where they basically filled my bladder with liquid and checked. It kind of would magnify if there was anything going on in my bladder. 

There wasn’t anything to be found. Generally, it made me feel like I needed to urinate. [It] wasn’t the most comfortable feeling. That was one of the initial scopes, and then also a CT.

I even started gaining weight, particularly in my midsection. I remember thinking I never gain weight in my midsection. With each of my boys, I gained 60 pounds when I was pregnant. But every time, I always gained weight in my hips and thighs. 

For me to gain it in my tummy area, I was like, “This doesn’t seem right.” But even the nurse at the practice was like, “You’re in your upper-40s, mid-40s. Maybe that’s just what’s happening. You’re just gaining weight in a different way. I was like, “Yeah, no.” 

I was very concerned because they couldn’t figure out what was going on after a year and a half. It got to the point where I was like, “If they don’t find something this time —” fast-forward, that was September 2021, ” — I’m going to someone else.” I also at that point had had the IUD removed. [I was] just trying to remove every possible potential cause, and we still couldn’t find anything.

Can you list those emotions you were feeling during this?

Confusion. Despair at some points because I just really didn’t know. I was wondering if there was some underlying something. I was Googling things [and] trying to figure [it] out. [I was] just kind of confused and lost as to how the professionals don’t know. 

Honestly, I had never heard of bladder cancer. It never occurred to me as something to delve more into. To be honest, I don’t ever recall my urologist saying, “If you see this additional sign, then maybe we should dig more, or let me know.” I was very concerned and stressed about what this could be.

Processing the possibility of cancer

That was in person. For that appointment to talk about doing the surgery (prior to the biopsy), I was by myself. He did [describe it as a growth or tumor], and I instantly thought cancer. 

I was like a ball of tears, and the nurse that was with me said, “You’re going to be okay.” She was extremely comforting. This was a different nurse. She’s like, “I’ve been through this before. You’re going to be just fine.” 

But at that moment, I remember thinking, “I’m going to die. What is this? How did we catapult from, ‘Not only it doesn’t seem like much, [but] this is probably what you’re going to always just deal with, because this is just the way your body is functioning,’ to, ‘We need you to have surgery in 2 weeks and dig further to understand what’s going on.’” 

It was pretty traumatic by myself in the office, but the nurse tried to reassure me and tell me, “You’re going to be okay.”

What was the value of having someone trying to comfort you?

Of course, we trust doctors [and] trust that people are going to do things in our best interest. But I began to wonder what other signs were there that maybe you overlooked. I honestly was a bit angry because I thought, “I’ve been coming to you for a year and a half, and you haven’t seen anything. Now, all of a sudden, I need to be in surgery in 2 weeks.” 

That was one shift, and then the second shift was when he told me specifically after the surgery that the growth was confirmed to be cancerous and that he wanted to refer me to someone else that could better help me.

Undergoing a biopsy on the growth

November 11th last year (2021) was when I had the surgery. I was extremely scared because even with my 3 C-sections, I was very alert in what was going on. At this point, I’m like, “Oh, you’re going to take me under?” 

I’m just a bit paranoid about, like, am I going to come out okay? Then the fact that you have had a challenging time diagnosing me, and now you’re about to take me under to try to figure out what this is. I was Googling left and right [and] Googling the report to try to figure out, “What does this mean?” 

That was on November 11th. Then we had plans for Thanksgiving to go visit family. I remember thinking, “You should be able to tell me what the results are almost instantly, even if it’s a week.” 

But it was November 29th, 2021, before I found out that it was cancerous. The crazy thing was, in the meantime, I got this random text from another hospital not even in the state that was something about checking into the cancer center.

[It] freaked me out because at this point, it was in between me having the surgery and getting the results. I remember texting my husband, “Oh my God, does this mean I have cancer?”

But it was a total random text from a hospital not even in the state that we live in. He was like, “Ebony, don’t worry about it. That’s just a random text. It’s nothing.” But I was like, “This is way coincidental.”

I was like, “What? What does this mean? What stage? What?” I remember that was the second shift, where I was just devastated. I don’t know that I’ve ever cried like that after getting those results.

»MORE: Patients describe dealing with scanxiety and waiting for results

What was your official diagnosis?

They diagnosed me with stage 2 urothelial muscular-invasive bladder cancer. I want to say it was staged N2 because a couple of my lymph nodes were impacted.

Next Steps After Diagnosis

Processing the full diagnosis

I remember my eyes just welling up. I couldn’t even read what was on the paper just because I was so emotional from what the diagnosis was. He was optimistic and trying to be encouraging in that visit. 

I just remember thinking, “What if I hadn’t come back? I’m listening to you all, and you’re saying, ‘Oh, well, it should be fine. Your body’s just maybe designed to work this way.’ What if I hadn’t come back? What if I didn’t prioritize this visit based off of some of the other verbiage that y’all were sharing with me, yet me telling you something doesn’t seem right? What if I hadn’t come back? Now you’re telling me that I’ve got this aggressive tumor growing in my body, and now you’re telling me you’re going to refer me to someone else because it’s a little more complicated than what you thought. Really?”

Losing a parent at a young age

Imagine this. I’m a 45-year-old woman, married with 3 kids. Our sons at the time were 20, 13, and 14. When I was a senior in high school, my father passed. 

When I heard the diagnosis, I instantly thought, ‘Here we go. I’m not going to be around for my children.’

It was a pretty quick sickness. I remember thinking, “He’s going to recover just fine.” But I didn’t know the seriousness of what was going on. I was devastated when he died my senior year in high school. There’s always been a part of me that has wondered, “What if that happens to me? What if my boys are left without me?” 

»MORE: Parents describe how they handled cancer with their kids

Telling your children about the diagnosis

I’m trying to think how we even came to how we were going to share, because I didn’t want them to worry. We decided not to share much. Initially, we weren’t going to share really much at all because my first appointment with the other urologist, it sounded like, “You’ll still keep your hair. Your hair may thin a little.” 

How did your urologist describe the results to you?

It was a very short appointment. I remember him asking me if I had any questions, but I was like, “Yeah, I got all the questions, but I don’t know what questions to ask.” I don’t know if he was just struck by the amount of emotion that I was expressing. 

It was just more of a, “I’m going to connect you to someone else that is going to help you better than I can.” I remember thinking, “Well, dang.” I was just so overwhelmed. I didn’t know what questions to ask. I had a ton of questions, but I really didn’t even know. 

Of course, some of the main questions were, “How serious is this?” There was not any discussion at that time of treatment. No discussion about any of that. I didn’t really get into all of that discussion until I met with my other urologist.

Receiving treatment at Duke Raleigh Hospital

Receiving a binder of information to prepare you

My first appointment with the urologist was accompanied with this huge binder, this 3-inch binder of tons of information, including a section on hospice care. 

All of it was about the medications that I was going to have to take, the potential types of urinary diversion, you name it. That binder was the gospel for me for the next several months. [It was] a little daunting to get that binder. Then there was another little pamphlet that had pictures of people, I guess, that had bladder cancer. 

I remember thinking on the cover of that little pamphlet, “None of the people that have been diagnosed with this look like me.” There may have been one woman on the picture, but she wasn’t African American. Everyone on that pamphlet looked older and not like me, but I was like, “Okay, here we go.”

Was the pamphlet comforting, or what did you feel looking at it?

I looked at the different types of urinary diversions when I opened it, and I remember thinking, “Wait a minute.” I was actually kind of vain at the time. I was like, “Wait a minute. What is this? Does this mean I’m going to be left with a bag outside of my body? Does this mean I’m going to lose my hair?” 

I was physically trying to think through what the impact was going to be. I remember talking to the urologist initially, and he said, “This is the new and improved one.” I remember him saying, “Your hair will likely thin,” and so I remember thinking, “Okay, I can manage that because I had a ton of hair.” 

I was okay. Then right after his appointment, I had the appointment with the hematologist [the] same day. The hematologist was like, “You’re going to lose all of your hair.” 

I just was devastated at the thought of, ‘How am I going to manage not having hair?’

I went from, “Okay, I think I can manage this,” to, “Like all of it, all of it?” He’s like, “Yeah, no, without a doubt, you’re going to lose all of your hair.” Again, I [was] just devastated, bawling in the doctor’s office. [I] can’t even read the material that they’re handing to me. 

We didn’t tell the boys at that point. It wasn’t until for sure we knew I’m going to be physically impacted. I’m not going to be able to hide it per se. That’s when we decided to share with them.

I’m like, “Now everybody’s going to know. It’s not going to be my own personal battle, because I refuse to let this stop me from still being an encouraging force to people in my circle.” 

I remember thinking, “Lord, I don’t know why you’ve given me this, but I’m going to choose to believe that it’s because you trust that I can still be a light despite whatever is going on.” 

I refused. I’m not going to allow this to minimize my presence on social media. I’m not going to allow this to minimize the peace that I bring in my home. I’m not going to allow this to be that. 

I remember texting a close friend who owns a salon and was like, “Hey, I need you to cut my hair.” She was like, “What? You sure?” At the time, I didn’t tell her what was going on. When I actually made it for the appointment, I let her know, and she was like, “Oh my God, are you sure? We don’t have to cut it. We can just wait and see. Maybe it’ll just thin.” 

I was like, “No, I’m ready to cut it.” It was a very short style. That was one of the best feelings that I had. I remember thinking that I was going to be emotional during the cut, but I wasn’t, because I remember thinking, “I’m going to enjoy this, because based on what the doctor is saying, I’m not going to be able to enjoy it for long.” 

I remember getting it cut and coming home that night, and my husband started crying because he was like, “You’re really having to do this. Here we go. But we’ve got this. We’ve got this. We’re going to conquer the day.” 

»MORE: Patients describe dealing with hair loss during cancer treatment

It was coming out in handfuls. It also was denaturing my curl pattern, so my hair was sticking up on the side of my head. It was just not the most attractive. When he agreed to shave it, it was liberating because I knew, at least now, I’m not going to have to deal with seeing it come out. Seeing it come out was the worst part. 

Once it was all shaved, I still wore a scarf around my head initially. Then we had a meeting downstairs at the kitchen table. My husband told the boys, “I just wanted to let you know we shaved your mom’s head and wanted to share with you what it looks like.” 

We showed the boys. I took the scarf off, and I wondered “What are they going to think?” My oldest son was like, “Wakanda forever,” which was the best feeling, because I was like, “You know what? Yes. Wakanda forever.”

What did that moment mean to you?

I totally was thinking, “I’ve lost something. I’ve lost a lot, and my boys are going to look at me like I look abnormal.” But when my oldest was like, “Wakanda forever,” I honestly remember thinking [about] the movie. It took me back to the movie and how the women whose heads were shaved look like queens. [They] looked like royalty. 

There was nothing that I saw in them that was a loss. He probably doesn’t realize it, but when he said that to me, it equated to me like, “Honey, there is nothing here that is a loss. You are still a queen regardless.” Like I said, he probably doesn’t realize it, but for me, that was reassurance that that’s what he saw.

Treatment and Recovery

What was your chemo regimen?

I would go every 2 weeks, every Wednesday, and I had 4 different drugs. The acronym was MVAC, and it was 4 different drugs. I would go in for my blood work at like 8 in the morning, and then they would administer the chemo. 

None of it was administered at the same time. There was a series. I can’t remember the order specifically, but there were some drugs that were administered. One of them people affectionately call it the “Red Devil,” and I was like, “Nah, that’s the blood of Jesus.” Anyway, I would try to be very optimistic when I went in there. 

When I would see the nurses, they were all suited up with things to protect them from the same chemo, the meds that they’re giving me. I’m like, “This isn’t a good sign.” They would start administering the chemo, [along] with some of the meds. 

There were 2 meds that were known to cause neuropathy, and so we would ice my hands and feet while the med was being administered, which was a bit challenging as well because it’s cold. I would sit with my hands in ice and my feet in ice for as long as I could bear it, then take it out for a few minutes, and then submerge everything again for as long as I could while those meds were being administered.

Generally, I would hope for a window seat because I was always surprised at how many people were undergoing care in the infusion center. All of it was in the same place, all still in Duke Raleigh. I would go upstairs to get my blood work [and] go upstairs to get a checkup. 

They would tell me about how my blood work was looking, and then I would go back downstairs for the infusions. I would pretty much be there all day until like 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Some gracious souls would bring us food. 

One of my close friends set up a meal train for us. People had signed up, and they knew every Wednesday she’s going to have her infusions. People would bring food for dinner on Wednesday nights. That was every other Wednesday for 6 infusions. 

It ended up being 12 weeks. From the beginning of December — so through Christmas, my anniversary, my birthday, Valentine’s, all these big markers for me, I was having to go through all of these treatments — until the beginning of March.

How did your doctor describe the treatment regimen to you?

The urologist talked mostly about what the entire treatment would look like. The urologist talked beginning to end. The hematologist specifically talked about my chemo. I knew that there would be some type of surgery at the end of all this. 

Actually, what they told me was, “You’ll probably do 2 to 4 infusions.” On the day of my second infusion, my chemo doctor was like, “You’re doing really well with this. We’ll actually go ahead and continue, and you’ll have 6 infusions.” 

I came in thinking, “I’m halfway. I’m going to get through today. That’s going to be halfway.” Then he was like, “No, boo-boo, we’re going to sign you up for 4 more.” That was another emotional day because I remember thinking, “Wait a minute. You’re telling me I’m doing well?” 

I remember thinking, “Can’t we get a bladder? Like, can I get something donated from somebody? Surely, I don’t have to lose [it].” It seems pretty extreme. 

I remember another breast cancer survivor telling me, “Ebony, at least it’s not breast cancer.” I remember thinking, “Girlfriend, no shade on whatever else you went through, but I’m about to lose a bladder. I’m about to potentially have to wear a bag outside of my body.” We don’t even know yet what the outcome is going to be, and I can make a choice. 

It’s so incredibly helpful to know that there is someone else, a woman like you who’s probably married, who has kids, [and] who’s concerned about the effects of chemotherapy on her reproductive organs. 

I wanted to see if people were able to return to their previous level of quality of life. You have a doctor saying, “You’re going to be fine.” Hearing someone else say, “Look at me. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I can still run. Yes, I can still go to the swimming pool.” That was extremely comforting.

I would not know until I woke up from surgery what I ended up with. My prayer was neobladder. That was ultimately what I decided to go with, but he also made it very, very clear that the neobladder surgery is incredibly invasive and much more involved and a longer recovery time. 

I was like, “Yeah, no, that’s what I want. We’re going to figure this out.” After researching and seeing the image, he also made it very clear that a lot of people, like from surveys, 50-50 will say that their quality of life is back to where it was before the surgery. 

Recovering from the surgery

In all the materials [and] that huge binder, it talked about so many things. It talked about the meds that I was taking. I’ll definitely talk about the continence piece, but I was taking so many meds and steroids to circumvent the side effects of the chemo. That was just one thing already. 

Recovery in terms of sexual health

Some of my biggest fears started with the chemo because I also started experiencing hot flashes. There were instructions as far as after you have chemotherapy to not engage in sexual relationship because of the chemo and potentially endangering your spouse or whatever. 

I remember thinking, “As a woman, am I going to be able to help you meet your needs? Are you going to be disappointed still being married to me? Because now this ‘for better or worse’ is looking a whole lot worse than when we started 16 years ago.” 

He reassures me even now, “Bae, the same guy that helped you through this cancer is going to be with us as we work through getting you back to where you feel comfortable with different things.” He doesn’t pressure me. It’s just more of a, “I’m patient. I’m here.” That’s been extremely comforting as I try to figure out how to get my body to work.

My husband tried his best. He was home with me the entire time. He took leave from his job. Literally from December until June, we didn’t go back. Both of us went back to work the week of Independence Day. He was with me the entire time. 

It was funny because when we went back to work, our sons were like, “Wait, you’re going back to work?” It was incredibly comforting to me to be able to be home when they came home from school. Even though I wasn’t feeling up to cooking, [it was comforting] for us to still eat dinners as family when I felt able to do so. It’s been a lot. 

My husband kept encouraging me to try to stay active as much as possible. That activity sometimes was just walking. Literally, when I came home from the hospital, it was walking for 10 minutes, walking around the house with the physical therapist, just to halfway get my mobility back after atrophy from being in the hospital for so long and having issues with my heart also while I was in the hospital. 

He’s been extremely patient from a standpoint of, “I’m just here with you to figure it all out.” That’s been incredibly reassuring.

Finding Support and Advice

Importance of finding other patients who you have more in common with

Looking in that social media group, [I was] trying to just scroll and see who I can relate to. Even still, as I was scrolling, while there were women in the group, because it’s a group for women with bladder cancer, there weren’t any African American women. I hadn’t found one until on the day of my first chemotherapy infusion. 

I have some sorority sisters that actually went and found the representative colors for bladder cancer. I didn’t even know there was a ribbon for bladder cancer. I knew about the pink ribbon for breast cancer. I didn’t even think that there are ribbons for different cancers. 

They had Googled, I guess, on the side and found out what the colors were: blue, gold, and a royal purple. They knew that I was going in for my first infusion. In our separate chat on the day of my infusion, they start posting pictures. They all have on some version of blue, gold, and purple. 

I’m like, “I don’t understand,” because our college colors are blue and gold. I was like, “I’m not getting it. I don’t understand.” It wasn’t until someone said, “We’ve got on our colors for you, Ebony,” and then they sent the ribbon. 

I was like, “Oh my gosh.” I was so flattered, and I was just sharing with them, “Hey, y’all, this is my first infusion day, if y’all can be in prayer.” Not only were they in prayer; they all decided to be on a united front and share that with me. 

I collected all of their pictures, put them in a collage, and shared it in this social media group with the women to say, “I’m just so grateful for my sorority sisters, who are standing in agreement with me today.” 

There’s a hand gesture that we use, too, to indicate our sorority. From that picture LaSonya found, [it[ turns out LaSonya is part of the same sorority. [She] was like, “OMG, hi, sorority sister. We’re here together.” 

That was so encouraging because I was looking for someone that looked like me. I’d scoured Instagram, trying to find different hashtags, [but I] hadn’t found anything or anyone that looked like me that was fighting and winning at bladder cancer. To find her was huge for me, because it’s like, “Yes, we can absolutely identify on even more levels.”

What does having LaSonya mean in your life?

It’s so hard. Number one, nobody wants to get diagnosed. No one wants to hear the dreaded C, right? Of course, not to downplay breast cancer. You see a lot of stories. I’ve unfortunately had a lot of friends that have been diagnosed with breast cancer. 

Because more friends have been diagnosed with breast cancer, you instantly have someone that you can think of that you can say, “Hey, here’s my friend such-and-such. If you have any questions or any parts you want to relate to, she’s here. You can connect with her.” 

With bladder cancer, I couldn’t find one soul that I could say, “Hey, what are you doing? How are you feeling about losing your hair? Are you going to wear a wig?” Just all that. Honestly, it wasn’t like there were that many different questions that I would ask her. 

It just was an instant, “You know everything that I’m feeling. You can relate specifically to the loss of hair. You can relate specifically to darkening complexions.” [The chemotherapy] also made certain parts of my skin darker

“You can relate specifically to all those things. You’re taking likely the same medications that I’m taking.” She was actually like a month ahead of me in her journey, so I was watching her as she was going through her journey and how optimistic she still was. I was like, “Okay, you can do this, Ebony. You can do this.” That was huge for me.

I remember propping, being in the bathroom for the first time and having the laptop with the DVD loaded, trying to get a mirror, trying to get this catheter, and trying to figure out where to stick it. I felt like I’d struck gold when I finally was able to empty my bladder with this catheter.

It was helpful because she talked with me. I said, “Are there any things that I can do prior to surgery to help in this recovery?” She talked about strengthening my pelvic floor by doing the Kegel exercises. I hadn’t heard anything about Kegel exercises since I was pregnant like 13 years ago. I was like, “Okay, that I can do.” 

Then she talked to me about finding my urethra prior to the surgery, because likely after the surgery, I would be in pain, which was another great piece. I kept putting it off. I literally found my urethra maybe 2 days before surgery. I was like, “Okay, you’re a grown woman. You’ve done things. You’ve birthed 3 children. You should be able to do this.” I had to psych myself up [and] have the pep talk. 

It was very helpful to have women in the practice that could help me work through that. I said that I was marked for the urostomy bag. We even talked about different types of panties or undergarments, bathing suits, just different things that would make me feel comfortable with my quality of life if that was the route that we ended up with. 

You don’t know, again, until you wake up out of surgery. [It was great] having those women present to help me find my urethra [and] to help me work through those emotions of what happens if I do have to have a hysterectomy, which I didn’t. What happens if? All the ifs. That was extremely helpful.

Advice for dealing with a neobladder

Know that you don’t have to do everything. As women, we’re used to doing everything. Let your body heal. Don’t be in a hurry to do all the things. Make sure that you stay active, even on days that you don’t want to. 

Transitioning to the neobladder

There are tons of concerns because you could potentially have a UTI. I guess we’re highly susceptible to UTIs. I had issues with my kidneys. There were a lot of complications with that, but the biggest thing as far as recovery was training my neobladder. 

Now you’ve got this neobladder. It can only hold so much, and so you have to train it. There was a schedule that was also in that binder that was shared with me on how to empty [it]. I would have to empty my bladder on a certain cadence. 

I remember the first time I tried to do it, it took me a minute to kind of get the sensation down to understand how I actually empty it. It’s hard to describe, but I remember thinking, “Okay, Kegel exercise. Kegel, okay.” 

It was the relaxation. Doing the exercise itself and relaxing the muscle is what helped me. That’s how I would use the bathroom. Anyway, there was a schedule for that. Every 2 or 3 hours, I would initially be trying to empty my bladder. 

Sometimes, because there are meetings after meetings after meetings, I don’t have [time]. I have to literally make the time to go empty my bladder. That’s a bit of a challenge for me because if it gets too full, there’s potential for infection and all the things. I’m still working through that. 

When I’m home, it’s easy. I can just go to the bathroom [and] not worry about how long I’m in there emptying my bladder. I still, straight up, have a hard time finding my urethra without a mirror. The nurse reassured me eventually it’ll be like a tampon. It’ll be where you can find it without even looking. 

I’m looking forward to that day, because honestly, it is a challenge. It’s things that you don’t think about. When I travel and I’m in the hotel room — this may be TMI. I don’t know. When I’m in the bathroom at home, I have a self-standing mirror that will help me find what I need to find so that I can fully empty my bladder. 

When you travel, you don’t typically have a self-standing mirror, so you’re either trying to prop your leg up or trying to find your phone, but you don’t have that many hands. You literally need a third hand to use the catheter, have something to locate the catheter, and then aim. It’s a challenge, but I’m working through that, and I am just conquering the day.

»MORE: How to be a self-advocate as a patient

Healthcare system and the experiences of African Americans

It’s unfortunate that this is the case. I know for African Americans, we don’t see a lot of ourselves in a positive light. We don’t see us conquering things on a basis. What we do see is negative outcomes. 

We see a lot of loss or, “It’s just the way it is. This is just the way it’s going to be [and] the way it’s always been. No one’s going to help you. No one really cares about you. You can be lost, and people would care less.” If you can’t afford something, you’re doomed to whatever you can piece together. 

Do you still question why this happened to you?

No. It’s crazy because it’s just been a year. It honestly hasn’t even been a year since the diagnosis. I keep like looking at my watch like, “Okay, no, it hasn’t even been a year. What a year it’s been.” 

Maybe it’s Pollyanna-ish, but my belief is that God trusted me to go through this and be positive regardless. To go through this and show people how to overcome in the face of death. To go through this and show people that I did and they can, too. 

There are times when I’m like, “I don’t like certain things.” I don’t like the whole catheter thing. I don’t like the aches in my body. But again, I remind myself, “Grace, girl. It’s not even been a year.” 

I’ve had so many people message me since I shared on social media last December. They’ve either shared that they’ve received a diagnosis, not necessarily bladder cancer, but they’ve received another cancer diagnosis. They’ve been motivated by what I’ve shared. 

I remember thinking when I was going through, “Lord, just get me through the surgery. Let me just get through.” It seemed like it was so far between November 29th and March 30th. It seems so far, and I still had no idea all the craziness that was going to happen after March 30th. 

I just was like, “Just get me through to the end.” I thought the end was going to be, “Let’s get through the surgery, and you’re going to be good.” I had a friend share with me recently, “Ebony, maybe that was just the beginning, like the beginning of helping other people [and] the beginning of changing lives. The beginning.” 

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