“We found…something.” Those were the first words I heard while waking up from anesthesia after my first colonoscopy at the age of 36. I was a young, working mom in the prime of my career as a public relations executive, married to the love of my life, with two daughters—aged 1 and 3—who depended on me. Exactly two weeks later, in July 2023, I was diagnosed with stage 3 colorectal cancer.
The scary thing: That colonoscopy almost didn’t happen, despite there being plenty of concerning information out there right now about colorectal cancer. We know that women in their 20s and 30s are getting diagnosed with it at alarming rates, and we know that it’s a silent killer, progressing in the early stages with little to no symptoms. But unlike “bigger” cancers, like breast and ovarian, colorectal cancer doesn’t seem to be top of mind, even for doctors—at least in my experience.
When I was diagnosed, I was nearly a year postpartum but still dealing with painful hemorrhoids that developed while I was pregnant (this is common, occurring in about 1 in 3 pregnancies). They were causing thin stool often mixed with blood and were pretty much all I could think about all day long. I kept bringing them up to my doctor, but she kept telling me they were normal and nothing to be worried about. If they kept bothering me, she said we could do surgery to have them removed.
Physically, I could handle the pain, but as a chronic worrier, I was emotionally exhausted. I’m one of those people who is constantly panicked about the little things in life—Have I turned off the curling iron? Have I locked the door?—so I’d hold my breath every time I went to the bathroom, wondering if something else was going on. My gut kept nagging me about it, and I convinced my doctor to let me get a colonoscopy, just for peace of mind. Luckily, she was supportive.
The day before the procedure, the surgery center called me and said I would have to pay $600 to go through with it. I was shocked. I had great insurance, and I thought it would be fully covered. Turns out that $600 was just for the facility to proceed and did not even include other hidden costs I soon found out about, such as the anesthesia and surgeon, which ended up costing me $2,000 (or the cost of my deductible). Depending on insurance coverage, this can set others back as much as $15,000. I later learned that the procedure was more costly because I was under 45 with symptoms, so the colonoscopy was considered “diagnostic” instead of a screening. Thankfully, I had the savings to pay that additional $600—otherwise, it would have been canceled and my diagnosis delayed.
Going into the colonoscopy, I told myself that finding something wasn’t the worst-case scenario—having something there and not knowing, that would be the worst case. Well, it turned out my hemorrhoids were real, but they weren’t a lingering result of my pregnancy—a 3.5 cm malignant tumor was causing them. I couldn’t believe it. The doctors told me they were shocked too, given my age.
The next few weeks were a blur, as I met with a surgeon and an oncologist. I was scanned, poked, and prodded. The waiting was the worst. I would look at my girls and just cry, not knowing if I would see them grow up. One week after my diagnosis, I had surgery to get a Port-a-Cath put in my chest. Afterward, I couldn’t hold my baby for a few weeks. It was tough because she’s a mama’s girl who just wanted to be snuggled, and if I’m honest, I really needed the snuggles too.
I’m one of the lucky ones though. We found the tumor before it spread to distant parts of my body. The medical team told me my cancer treatment could be curative.
During treatment, I met so many women who had similar experiences to mine: Women in their 20s and 30s diagnosed with colorectal cancer shortly after having a baby. Many had thought the symptoms they were experiencing—like hemorrhoids, bowel changes, anemia, fatigue, and unexplained weight loss—were a result of being postpartum, and were so focused on taking care of their babies that they almost didn’t take care of themselves. When they did push for more help, many were told that everything was normal, that they were too young for it to be something more serious. Again, thank goodness for intuition.
Luckily, chemotherapy and radiation made my tumor completely disappear, and now, 13 months after finishing treatment, I am in remission. I won’t officially be considered “cured” for five more years, but I feel like I can breathe again.
I believe that my chronic worrying saved my life. I had nine more years until I was due for a routine colonoscopy—I wouldn’t have made it nine more years, based on the stage my cancer had progressed to.
In 2021, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) lowered the recommended age for starting colorectal cancer screening from 50 to 45, but, for me and so many others, it’s not low enough. A colonoscopy is the best screening tool—up to 90 percent of colorectal cancers can be prevented through early detection. This procedure needs to be more accessible, even for people who don’t have the funds or agency that I was lucky enough to have.
I want everyone to know how important it is to trust your gut feeling. Especially if you’re experiencing symptoms that might be related to colorectal cancer—even if you’re postpartum. Yes, there’s a good chance what you’re experiencing isn’t cancer, but you’ll never be upset about finding nothing. Delaying does not change a diagnosis, but it does change the prognosis.
I’m still a chronic worrier, but now that my road is clear, I have plenty of time to go back to being concerned about the small stuff again. And now, it feels like a privilege to only worry for the rest of my life about whether or not I turned off the curling iron.
Looking for support, resources, and community amid a colon cancer diagnosis, or want to learn more in order to advocate for yourself? Kristina recommends checking out Colontown.org.
Kristina resides in the Atlanta area with her husband and two daughters (2 and 5). After a devastating colorectal cancer diagnosis in July 2023, Kristina has been using her voice to spread awareness about the rise in young-onset cases as well as encouraging others to advocate for their health.
