Finding Strength: A Personal Battle with Ovarian Cancer

June 5, 2025. This date marks when my life took an unexpected turn. I was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. I had retired from academia at a major Chicago university only a month earlier, planning a quiet retirement and completing a book scheduled for release the following year. The words of John Lennon echoed in my mind during this time: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” Instead of embracing retirement, I faced a daunting new challenge: staying alive.

Ovarian cancer is a type of growth in the ovaries that often lacks symptoms in its early stages, making detection problematic. It is frequently diagnosed in later stages, like stage 3 or stage 4, by which time the cancer has spread. Just six months before, my annual pap smear indicated no issues. However, this type of cancer requires scans not included in standard gynecological exams. My only early symptom was weight loss due to reduced appetite. I was usually healthy, relying solely on vitamins.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

One particular day, I felt unusually weak, my heart racing. After visiting the emergency room, I was admitted to the hospital. A mass on my ovary had caused blood clots and triggered these symptoms. The hospital visit led to a diagnosis of ovarian cancer, and I was in disbelief. Cancer did not run in my family, and the timing was particularly frustrating as I was preparing to publish a book about Sylvia Moy, a Motown Records music legend.

Sylvia Moy made history in 1964 as the label’s first female in-house songwriter and producer, collaborating with musical greats like Smokey Robinson and Norman Whitfield. Her story was crucial to me. Despite not having children, I invested my efforts in the book, viewing it as my ‘baby.’ The potential silence of my voice meant Moy’s story could remain untold since she passed in 2017. Timing was critical.

I underwent major surgery and endured six aggressive rounds of chemotherapy. Chemo, a paradoxical treatment, aimed to eliminate both harmful and beneficial cells, risking my immune system but allowing me to survive. Despite feeling dejected, my niece, a nurse practitioner, reassured me, “Yes. You have a lot to live for. You also have your book coming out.”

The potential side effect of neuropathy from chemo threatened my ability to write. Yet, I remained determined. I endured the pain of ice mittens during treatments to prevent nerve damage. After overcoming these challenges, I truly understood resilience.

Music played a significant role throughout my battle with cancer. During those seven months, an epiphany occurred: while writing about Moy, I felt she was helping me stay strong. Her poignant lyrics, like those in Stevie Wonder’s “My Cherie Amour,” touched my emotions deeply.

Some found it puzzling that I focused on the book during treatment. However, sharing Moy’s story provided me a strong reason to persevere. In many ways, writing this book saved my life, offering hope for a future post-recovery.

Since treatment, my focus has shifted towards quality survival rather than quality life. I purposefully changed my mindset, viewing life positively regardless of circumstances. The universe favored me, revealing that people are more similar than they appear.

As a Black woman, this journey resonates deeply. We have faced disrespect, undervaluation, and more, but we continue to persist. Our spirits remain unbroken.

Moving ahead, I am deliberate about where I direct my energy. My remission served as a reminder of my mission: shining a light on others through my writing.

Today, there is no evidence of the disease, and my health remains stable. Angels and spirit guides have been my companions throughout this journey, demonstrating that faith can overcome any obstacle. While my path included ups and downs, there is no room for complaints.

With music and stories still unfolding, my journey continues, echoing Sylvia Moy’s sentiment: “And this is love.”