Iknew it was bad when I started spotting. Bleeding after menopause was never good. After my biopsy, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. The oncology navigator immediately scheduled my hysterectomy to get the “bad” cells out. While afraid and stressed, I had to deal with more than 40 emails from my HMO, five urgently needed pre-op tests and setting up my leave from work.

The plan was to do a robotic-assisted laparoscopic procedure in three weeks, which would be less invasive than a 6-to-8-inch incision along my abdomen. With no open-wound surgery, I wouldn’t need months of recovery. While cancer was not happy news, I felt a tremendous relief that we had a plan.

Then, four days before my scheduled surgery, my surgeon asked for a last-minute call.

I had spoken with her five times in the

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