Disclaimer: This story reflects one person’s personal experience with bladder cancer and is shared with the hope of raising awareness and offering different perspectives. It is not intended as medical advice, and does not necessarily reflect the views, policies, or positions of Bladder Cancer Canada. Everyone’s health journey is unique, and symptoms, diagnoses, and treatments can vary widely. If you are experiencing symptoms or have any concerns about your health, please speak to your doctor or a qualified healthcare professional.
I was diagnosed with bladder cancer after a significant amount of blood appeared in my urine. Looking back, I had noticed some signs before, but it wasn’t until then that I realized something might be seriously wrong. I’m incredibly grateful that my doctor took my symptoms seriously and acted quickly to get me the care I needed.
In early January, just as I was recovering from a bad flu, I noticed something alarming—significant blood in my urine. I had seen traces before but brushed it off as spotting between periods. As a woman in my 40s with a history of IVF, a complicated postpartum journey, and what felt like a never-ending hormonal rollercoaster, I assumed it was just another blip in my reproductive story. I had no idea that tumours had been silently growing inside me.
For months, I’d been dealing with pelvic pressure and unexplained fatigue. My doctor ran various tests and even gave me a requisition for an ultrasound back in November 2024—one I never followed up on. I assumed I was entering perimenopause, or that it was something gynecological. Cancer didn’t even cross my mind.
That changed dramatically at the start of 2025, when I passed large clots and visible blood. It was terrifying—impossible to ignore. I went to Urgent Care, expecting to hear something about kidney stones. Instead, the doctor said, “This could be cancer.” That word hit like a brick.
From that moment, everything moved quickly—blood tests, a CT scan, an ultrasound. A kind technician quietly let me bring my child into the room, even though it was against protocol. Then came the news: a mass in my bladder. I had to wait a couple more weeks for a cystoscopy, but I spent that time researching everything I could, trying to prepare myself for whatever was coming.
When I finally met with one of the top urologists in the area, I found myself in a waiting room filled with elderly men. It hit me hard—I didn’t fit the profile. I never imagined bladder cancer happening to someone like me. But it had. The diagnosis was confirmed, and surgery to remove the tumours was scheduled.
The TURBT procedure was supposed to be straightforward, but it didn’t feel that way. Lying on the hospital bed, waiting to be wheeled into the OR, I felt invisible—just another patient on just another day. It felt surreal, like a movie scene. Then came the anesthetic, and darkness. When I woke, I was in significant pain, which wasn’t expected.
Recovery was far tougher than I expected. I needed a catheter for a full week, and no amount of reading had prepared me. Later, I found out why it was so painful—tumours had covered 60% of my bladder. The resection was extensive.
But then came the relief. First: the cancer hadn’t spread. Then, even better news—it was low-grade and non-invasive.
Six weeks post-surgery, I still don’t feel like myself. Recovery isn’t always a straight line. But I’m here. I’m lucky. And I’m deeply grateful for the care I received, the speed of the medical response, and the unwavering support from family and friends.
This is now part of my life – I’ll need regular checkups, and I’ll carry the fear that it could come back. And I’m still unpacking the quiet stress I carried as I went through all of this, pretending everything was fine.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: listen to your body. Don’t delay. Take care of yourself—even when it’s inconvenient. Especially then.
