Go Home and Die? Not Me!

By Jane Hughes

Maryland

I am a 74-year-old Registered Nurse. In 2010 I underwent a laparoscopic hysterectomy to

remove uterine fibroids, noncancerous growths that can cause severe pain. The surgeon used a device called a morcellator, which breaks down tissue into smaller fragments so it can be removed through small, less invasive incisions. The surgery was successful and all was well until 2012 when, during my second annual checkup, my doctor found a large abdominal mass which pathology revealed to be Leiomyosarcoma, an aggressive cancer whose tumors are often hidden and may not appear until the cancer is advanced. There had been no biopsy done before the hysterectomy, and the morcellator spread the hidden cancer throughout my abdomen.

Cancer! What do we do now? Actually, there wasn’t much "we" to it. My 90-year-old father

would eventually come live with me during this ordeal. Otherwise, I had a brother and sister-in- law.

My oncologist said, “This is bad, this is very bad.” He gave me some articles to read, which

basically said, “Go buy a plot because you’re going to die.” I tore them up and threw them in the trash. Then, my surgeon tells me I have three months to live and that I should get my affairs in order.

It was like my doctors had given up. But I hadn’t. I didn’t feel doomed or despondent. I just

thought I had to do something about this; I had to do what I could to stay alive.

Even though I had been given just three months to live, I went to a major teaching hospital and underwent 18 months of chemotherapy, but I felt like I needed to have surgery to remove the cancer. I asked several times why I couldn’t have surgery and the reply was that my disease was too advanced. I persisted in my request for surgery and was eventually referred to a surgeon, who set a date for my surgery only to call me two days before the surgery date to say, once again, that my cancer had spread too far into my abdomen. I asked her what I should do, and her reply was to go back to the oncologist, which I did. The oncologist wouldn’t even look at me. He told me the only thing he could do was to get me into a trial. I said, “No thanks, I’m done.” I meant I was done with this oncologist and these surgeons.

After that meeting, I went to work and a friend asked how it went. I told her the oncologist said there was nothing they could do, that I should basically go home and die. Her immediate reply was to go to see Dr. Sardi at Mercy. “Who is Dr. Sardi,” I queried. Her reply was “He saved my sister-in-law!”

I went to Dr. Sardi, and after being examined and scans reviewed, he said, “I can help you.” And he surely did! I have had two HIPEC procedures, two Cytoreductive procedures, a liver

resection, and a bladder resection.

Image is for illustrative purposes only and does not depict the patient featured in this story.

I live on a “farmette”, a small-scale residential farm north of Baltimore, where I had horses,

dogs and cats until I had to put the horses down in November of 2025. I still have the dogs and cats, and I still mow my three acres with a Kubota tractor and a smaller lawn tractor. My

message to anyone who has cancer is simply, do not give up hope. I did not, and as a result, I have had 13 years (and counting), that I would not have had.

Oh yes, and I came out of retirement to take a job I wasn’t looking for. I continue to work as a

nurse. It’s a great job, and I love it!

Eternal gratitude to the wonderful team at Mercy!