Yifei
China
“If I had known this six years ago, perhaps today would be different.”
For six years, I believed I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do. Around 2020, something unusual happened. Just before my period, my fingers suddenly became swollen for no clear reason. That one unexpected symptom led me to the hospital for an examination, and for the first time, I learned there was a cyst on my ovary.
If I had known this six years ago, perhaps today would be different.
For six years, I believed I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do.
Around 2020, something unusual happened. Just before my period, my fingers suddenly became swollen for no clear reason. That one unexpected symptom led me to the hospital for an examination, and for the first time, I learned there was a cyst on my ovary.
The doctor told me it was small and did not need treatment. I only needed to come back every six months and keep observing it.
I believed that advice. I held on to the words “keep observing” like a small promise that everything would be all right.
So I waited. And I watched.
From then on, I followed the recommendation carefully. Every six months, I returned for another checkup. For six years, the cyst stayed around three centimeters, without any obvious change.
Again and again, the reports described an “ovarian cyst, suspected endometriosis.” But no one ever clearly said to me: “This is endometriosis.”
The message I received was always the same: no urgent intervention was required. So I truly believed it was just a minor imperfection inside my body, a quiet visitor that time might eventually forget.
Then, in 2025, everything changed.
I believe God opened a new door for me that year, allowing me to meet Professor Adel Shervin, an internationally respected expert in minimally invasive gynecologic surgery.
Only then did I realize, with shock, that this disease was not the “well-behaved child” I had imagined it to be. Endometriosis can spread silently through the body, like vines growing in the dark. For the first time, I began to truly understand what endometriosis was.
What rose in me at that moment was more than shock. It was a kind of grief, a deep sense of being wronged by time, and an even deeper regret.
For the first time, I felt seen.
I was fortunate to meet Professor Shervin, a world-renowned gynecologic specialist. After a detailed assessment, he told me honestly that after years of disease progression, complex adhesions had likely formed inside my pelvis.
A surgery like this, he explained, could be extremely difficult. A small mistake could injure the bowel, ureter, or even major blood vessels. It is considered one of the most challenging procedures in minimally invasive gynecologic surgery.
But for decades, Professor Shervin had treated complex cases like mine. Every operation, every decision, every judgment was grounded in thousands of accumulated experiences.
For the first time, what I felt was not fear. It was relief. Someone finally saw the disease clearly, and knew how to help me.
The diagnosis became real.
Before surgery, the examinations showed that I had developed deep infiltrating endometriosis (DIE). At the same time, my AMH level (Anti-Müllerian Hormone), a marker of ovarian reserve, had already declined significantly. It meant that my ovarian reserve had been substantially affected.
That was the moment I felt overwhelming regret.
I regretted the years that had been gently brushed aside by the words “keep observing”, years that should have been protected, not lost.
And then I finally understood.
I had thought that the disease and I were waiting together.
But the truth was this:
I was the one waiting.
The disease never was.
In May 2026, I underwent surgery.
The surgery was successful. Today, I am recovering well, and I have found hope for the future again.
This is my real story. Every moment of confusion, every mistaken reassurance, every tear is part of it. I am not telling it to blame anyone. I am telling it because somewhere, another girl may be quietly waiting in “observation,” just as I once did.
I hope she hears the truth sooner. I hope she holds herself closer. I hope she knows that some diseases do not simply go away, and that some truths need someone to speak them aloud for those who are still waiting in silence.
💜 If I had known this six years ago, perhaps today would be different.
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