Thriving Beyond the Diagnosis: My Journey as a Peritoneal Mesothelioma Survivor

By Tamron Little

September 2025

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I’ll never forget the day my entire world shifted. I was just 21 years old, only five months

into motherhood, when I heard the words no one ever imagines they’ll hear: “You have

cancer…peritoneal mesothelioma.”

My first reaction was disbelief. Cancer? Me? At this age? I had barely stepped into

adulthood, still learning how to care for my newborn, and suddenly I was being told my life

might be cut short. It didn’t feel real. It felt like those words had been spoken to someone

else, not me.

It still feels surreal to think about how quickly everything changed. Flash back to month

four of my pregnancy, during what was supposed to be a routine ultrasound, doctors

discovered a fibroid tumor. At the time, I was reassured that fibroids were common in

women of childbearing age, so the focus remained on making sure my baby and I stayed

healthy. Throughout my pregnancy, I pushed the worry to the back of my mind, holding on

to the joy of preparing for motherhood.

The fibroid tumor that had first been spotted during pregnancy didn’t just fade into the

background; it began to grow. The same doctor who had delivered my son was the one who

reassured me that everything was fine and scheduled surgery to remove what we all

thought was just a fibroid.

I went into that operating room expecting relief, a fresh start, and the chance to focus on

being a new mother. But when I woke up, my life changed forever. Surgery was over, and I

was no longer simply a young mom; I was a cancer patient. The words were unthinkable:

peritoneal mesothelioma and 18 months to live.

At 21 years old, I was asked to accept an expiration date on my life. As we celebrate

Mesothelioma Awareness Month in September, I am still here 18 years later. I am still

standing, thriving and living proof that statistics don’t have the final say.

Walking Through Treatment

The first doctor I was referred to had no plan, no roadmap, and no strategy for how to fight

this disease. It felt like my future was already written off. But something inside me refused

to accept that.

I found another doctor in my own town, one of the very few specialists in the country who

treated peritoneal mesothelioma. My mom had been sharing my situation with her

coworkers and asking them to keep me in their prayers. In one of those conversations, a

coworker mentioned a local doctor. Someone who, by God’s providence, happened to be a

specialist in this rare cancer. That connection changed everything. It was the glimmer of

hope I desperately needed.

I was considered the right candidate for HIPEC surgery, an invasive procedure that

removes the tumor before administering heated chemotherapy directly into the abdomen.

The surgery itself lasted nearly 12 hours. It was grueling, and the recovery that followed

tested me in ways I didn’t know were possible.

There were moments of intense pain, fear and deep exhaustion. But woven into those hard

days were also moments of resilience, love and determination that reminded me why I was

fighting. I leaned heavily on my faith and the support of my family. I prayed through every

appointment, every side effect, every sleepless night. My husband stood by my side. My son

became my “why,” which reminded me that I was never walking this road alone.

It wasn’t just about surviving but about finding ways to thrive in the middle of it all. I

learned to celebrate small victories. These moments taught me that thriving isn’t about

perfection. It’s about perseverance.

From Patient to Advocate

As I slowly moved from active treatment into survivorship, I felt a calling to use my voice.

Too many people still don’t know what mesothelioma is, let alone that young women like

me can be diagnosed. I wanted to change that.

I began writing, sharing my story, and connecting with others facing cancer. That led me to

partner with The Mesothelioma Center at Asbestos.com, where I now share my experience

to help other survivors and their families navigate the road ahead. Whether it’s through

articles, conversations or community support, my goal is to make sure no one feels alone.

Advocacy became my way of reclaiming power from a disease that tried to take so much

from me. Every time I share my testimony, I’m reminded that my story has purpose, not

just for me, but for others who need a voice of hope.

A Seat at the Table: The White House Cancer Moonshot Forum

One of the most humbling moments of my advocacy journey was being invited to the White

House Cancer Moonshot Forum. Standing in that room, surrounded by researchers,

policymakers and advocates, I felt the weight of how far I’d come from a young mother

being told I had little time left to a survivor helping shape the conversation about cancer

care and research.

I didn’t just represent myself in that space; I represented every peritoneal mesothelioma

patient, every young mother fighting for more time, every survivor still searching for

answers. My presence there proved that cancer survivorship matters and that patients’

voices deserve to be at the center of progress.

What I’ve Learned—and What I Hope Others Know

I reflect on my journey during Mesothelioma Awareness Month, there are a few truths I

want to share with everyone:

• You are stronger than you know. A cancer diagnosis does not define the fullness of your

  story, it’s only one chapter, not the whole book.

• Community and connection matter. Don’t be afraid to lean on others for support. There are people ready to stand with you.

• Thriving is possible. Even in the middle of treatment, even in the unknown, you can still

  discover joy, peace, and purpose.

Moving Forward in Hope

Today, I am a proud survivor, a mother of four, a writer and an advocate. I don’t take a

single day for granted. My journey with peritoneal mesothelioma has shaped me, but it has

not defined me. Instead, it has given me the courage to speak, to encourage others, and to

remind the world that thriving after cancer is possible.

To every patient, survivor, caregiver and advocate: you are not alone. Together, we can

raise awareness, push for research and build a future where no one must hear the words

“you only have 18 months to live” without also hearing a voice of hope right beside it.