Hi everyone,

I never imagined I’d be creating a GoFundMe, especially for myself. At first, I chose to keep what I was going through private, sharing only with a few close friends and family members. Honestly, the thought of people seeing me in a “sickly state” was almost as terrifying as being sick itself. I know… pretty silly, right?

But reproductive health (especially right now) deserves visibility. I’ve come to realize that awareness doesn’t exist if, well, you don’t talk about things. I recognize how rare my diagnosis is at my age, and if sharing my experience encourages even one person to schedule a wellness check or be more mindful of their body, then that alone makes this worth it.

Unfortunately, we all know that this is the American healthcare system and I alongside so many Americans aren't able to access proper care without the possibility of financial burden. I’m realizing that I need some help to get through this. If donating isn’t possible, I completely understand. I know many of us are navigating financial and emotional stress right now. Please know that your support in any form such as kind words, sharing this page, or simply reading — means more than you know.

Trigger warning: If medical details or blood make you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip the next section.

For most of 2025, I experienced persistent lower abdominal discomfort and extremely abnormal menstrual cycles. Since my teenage years, my periods were often heavy or irregular, which unfortunately became “normal” for me. In 2020, after getting COVID, I experienced a period that lasted 30 days straight, leaving me weak and sending me to the ER.

An ultrasound revealed a uterine polyp, and I underwent a Dilation and Curettage (D&C), a procedure used to remove tissue from the uterus for testing. At 20 years old, facing the possibility of cancer was terrifying. Thankfully, the results were benign.

Over the following years, things leveled out for the most part. But in 2025, things escalated. I began experiencing extremely heavy periods lasting up to two weeks, followed by only a short break before they returned (often heavier and longer). I was bleeding through everything constantly, going through period products at an alarming rate, and genuinely began to question how much blood my body could even lose.

When I finally saw my gynecologist, birth control was suggested. Something told me that wasn’t enough. I advocated for myself and pushed for further testing.

I’m incredibly grateful I did.

On Christmas Eve, December 24th, I underwent another D&C and biopsy. On January 6th (yes… that cursed-ass date), I had a follow-up appointment scheduled for 4 p.m. Instead, my doctor called me that morning to discuss the results immediately. That phone call completely blindsided me.

The biopsy showed that I have complex endometrial hyperplasia with atypia — the most advanced stage of pre-cancer of the uterine lining. This condition has a high chance of progressing into cancer if not treated promptly. Estimates show that 25–50% of people with atypical hyperplasia either already have or may go on to develop endometrial cancer.

As we talked, my doctor began using words I never expected to hear. We started talking about seeing an oncologist and even needing a possible hysterectomy.

Those are heavy topics to process over the phone. But if there’s one thing about me (hellooo, Virgo), it’s that I try to approach things logically. I know this needs to be taken seriously and handled as soon as possible. Delaying care simply isn’t an option.

Unfortunately, in what feels like the world’s darkest sense of humor, I lost my health insurance coverage in early December 2024. That means everything up to this point — gynecological visits, ultrasounds, procedures, biopsies, and lab work has been paid for out of pocket.

I haven’t even been able to see an oncologist yet. I’ve looked into several practices, and to paint a picture: a place like Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center provided me with a Good Faith Estimate for Health Services. An initial consultation with testing alone costs around $13,200 without insurance.

In February, I enrolled in new insurance. While I’m grateful to have coverage again, the financial strain remains overwhelming. The premium alone is nearly $800 per month, and I still have a high deductible. As I begin seeing specialists, undergoing further testing, and determining the safest treatment plan, I know these expenses will continue to grow, especially if a hysterectomy is on the table.

At this time, I haven’t been able to move forward with oncology care simply because I don’t have the financial means to do so on my own.

So, with humility and vulnerability, I’m asking for help.

If you’re able to donate anything at all, it would go directly toward medical consultations, testing, procedures, insurance costs, and ongoing care. If you’re unable to donate, I truly understand. Sharing this, sending love, or even taking this as a reminder to go see a doctor yourself means just as much.

Endometrial hyperplasia is typically seen in people over the age of 50. The chances of it occurring in someone under 30 are extremely rare. My doctor told me I’m the youngest patient in his 20 years of practicing medicine with this condition. So much for being an overachiever (Am I right?) LOL. But seriously, y’all… listen to your bodies. Sometimes the unexpected happens.

Thank you for taking the time to read this long-ass story. If you made it to the end, I know you’re a real one. Thank you for allowing me to be vulnerable, for supporting me in any way you can, and for reminding me that I’m not navigating this alone.

Thank you especially to my best friends, some of whom literally helped me make my first insurance payment. And a very special thanks to my beautiful partner, who has been nothing but encouraging, reassuring, and compassionate, even through every curveball life throws at her too.

I love you all,

Gaby