Hi,

My name is Mindi. I am a devoted mother of two beautiful children and a proud grandmother of nine.

When I was 30 years old, I was diagnosed with vaginal cancer. My children were 12 and 10 at the time. I thought that was the worst moment of my life—that I would never overcome it. I fought for two years and underwent five surgeries. During my fifth surgery, I had a total vulvectomy. Finally, I got to ring my bell—I was cancer-free.

I continued working and raising my kids, cherishing every moment because I had a newfound appreciation for life. Even though I was cancer-free, I still had to go for yearly checkups.

In January 2023, during my annual exam, my vaginal cancer had returned. The following month, I underwent another surgery—a partial vulvectomy—only to find out in November of that same year that more cancer remained. I had another surgery. Afterward, I thought I was in the clear.

Then, in January 2024, I started experiencing stomach issues that landed me in the hospital. After what felt like endless tests, I was advised to follow up with my oncologist. In February 2024, my oncologist discovered an 8-pound tumor connected to my vaginal wall, pressing into my colon.

After multiple appointments with my vaginal and colon oncologists, it was determined that chemotherapy and radiation would be the best course of action. The waiting process felt like an eternity. I then had to endure several more appointments to have a port placed—a painful procedure—but I made it through, staying as positive as I could.

Treatment Begins

Two weeks later, I started 40 rounds of radiation along with my first five-day cycle of chemotherapy. I took home a chemo pump that administered treatment every five minutes, 24 hours a day, for five days straight. I wasn’t allowed to be around my grandchildren, which took a deep emotional toll. I was extremely sick, exhausted, and unable to complete even the most basic tasks. My quality of life had been stripped away.

It became a struggle just to make it to the very appointments that were meant to save my life. I tried my best to stay positive despite the fear, but I knew that God was in control. I am a fighter, and I could not give up.

After that first round, the pump was removed, and I was finally able to do basic tasks again. But two weeks later, the pump was back for another five days of around-the-clock chemo. On Day 4 of this round, my body started shutting down. My positive outlook was fading. I ended up in the hospital, where I was told I had no immune system.

On the third day, doctors warned me that if my blood counts didn’t improve by morning, I would need bone marrow injections. I prayed. My family prayed. By the next day, my counts had risen. After a couple more days in the hospital, I was released—but I still had to complete my radiation treatments.

Hope and Heartbreak

I completed my radiation and began to feel better. I prayed that the cancer was gone. I returned to work, and my quality of life started improving.

Two months later, I had a repeat PET scan, which revealed that the tumor had shrunk to 1 pound. I thought I had beaten it.

Then, I got the devastating news. The cancer was still active and had spread—to my right groin, seven lymph nodes under my left arm, and three in my left breast.

After several more appointments, I learned that the tumor in my groin was inoperable. I was given two options:

Undergo surgery to remove the tumor, rectum, and part of my colon, which would leave me with a colostomy bag for life, while the active cancer in my groin would remain.

Have a biopsy of my lymph nodes under my arm and breast to determine whether the cancer was a secondary cancer or a result of the original diagnosis. This option included partial removal of the tumor in my colon.

Doctors told me that either way, the cancer would eventually take my life—they just didn’t know when. After much thought and prayer, I chose Option 2.

The Fight Continues

I had my surgery on Jan. 28, 2024. I was out for a week, then returned to work. I am still waiting for my biopsy results.

Through all of this, I have pushed myself to get up every day and go to work to pay my bills. I have exhausted my savings on deductibles and copays.

This has been the most difficult time of my life—mentally, physically, and emotionally. My faith and family have carried me through. I truly believe that with God, anything is possible.

That is why I continue to fight every single day, despite the financial, mental, and physical hardships. My two children and my grand babies keep me going.

I hope to live to see them grow, but I am also learning that sometimes, you have to ask for help. You have to let people know what you need.

The biggest lessons I’ve learned are:

Stay positive.

Keep the faith.

Trust in the Lord.

It’s okay not to be okay.

I have always been stubborn and independent, never asking for help. But now, I know I must rest in order to be here for my family.

If you can help, it would be greatly appreciated—but above all, prayers are needed most.

Thank you for reading my story, God bless!