In January of 2014 I went to the doctor because I have was having issues with my period. I was bleeding heavily already for two weeks straight and I was scared that I was having the same issue I’d faced a few years prior where I bled heavily for two months and ended up needing a blood transfusion.

I had insurance finally and could go to the doctor freely without having to worry about the high cost of gynecological care.

The doctor took some samples and would give me a call when she had the results.

When the call came I panicked. She told me she had my results and told me they weren’t the kind you give over the phone. She asked me to come back to her office so she could speak to me in person.

I was living with a couple of my friends at the time and my best friend had the day off. I asked her if she would mind accompanying me to the doctor because I was scared.

We took the train downtown and she sat in the waiting room while I went into the examination room. After a few minutes the doctor came in and sat down.

On a chilly afternoon in January of 2014 I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer.

I was in shock.

She started to explain to me what that meant and what steps we needed to take, but I started crying.

I mean really crying.

Ugly, soggy, guttural, crying.

She asked me if someone had come with me to my appointment and I nodded. She asked me if she wanted her to go get this person and I nodded again.

I continued crying. Shaking as I repeated the word “cancer” over and over again in my head.

The door opened and Melissa walked in. She saw me there, a wet mess with make up smeared around my eyes, and wrapped her arms around me. I leaned into her and continued to cry, the black of my mascara and eyeliner leaving two black crescent moons on her stark white hoodie.

I remember the doctor trying to comfort me by telling me that of all the cancers to get, I got the best one.

I stopped crying and started laughing. I laughed a wild crazy laugh at the absurdity of her statement. The best kind of cancer to get. As if that was such a thing. But it turns out, she was right.

With Melissa holding my hand, I listened to the doctor explain the two treatment options I had ahead of me. They could, remove my uterus, thus completely eliminating the cancer, or they could put me on hormonal treatments and I would have to come in for biopsies every few months.

I think to myself that had this happened ten years ago I might have only had a hysterectomy as an option.

For the past few years I’ve treated my cancer with hormones and quarterly biopsies. At last check, the cancer was completely gone.

And I consider myself lucky. Lucky because I was able to survive cancer without any major surgery, without chemotherapy, without losing my hair, without any outward sign of what my body was going through, which is why I’ve decided to donate my hair and shave my head.

Because there are women and children who are not as fortunate as I am.

Because hopefully my hair can help a little girl or a woman feel like themselves again.

Because we live in an age of medical breakthrough and it’s time to find a cure.

So I ask you, reader, friend, to support me as I raise money and take part in the St. Baldrick’s Challenge.

I’ll be shaving my head on March 9th.

Click the link below if you want to donate to this organization and help me reach my fundraiser goal.

Thank you.

Jenny’s Shaving it Off!