Cancer at 31

Reading Time: 3 minutes

By: Desiree Burgos, 32, Endometrial Cancer

At 31 years old, I was diagnosed with stage 3 endometrial cancer that had spread to my ovaries and lungs. Hearing those words changed my life instantly. Nothing prepares you for the moment when you realize your body is fighting something so serious. In an instant, everything shifts—your priorities, your perspective, your understanding of yourself.

My cancer journey was not easy. I went through six rounds of chemotherapy. Three of those treatments were incredibly hard on me—physically, emotionally, and mentally. There were days when the pain, exhaustion, and fear felt unbearable. There were moments when I did not recognize myself anymore, not just because of what treatment was doing to my body, but because cancer changes you from the inside out.

The other three rounds were more manageable, but no part of this journey was ever truly “easy.” Cancer teaches you quickly that strength does not always look like standing tall. Sometimes strength is simply showing up for treatment when you are terrified. Sometimes it is getting out of bed when your body feels broken. Sometimes it is choosing to keep going when everything in you wants to give up.

One of the greatest lessons this journey taught me was how important it is to understand my own body and advocate for myself. Before cancer, I think many of us move through life assuming doctors will always have every answer and that our bodies will simply keep functioning as expected. But cancer forced me to become deeply aware of my body, my symptoms, my intuition, and my voice. I learned that advocating for yourself is not optional—it is essential. No one knows your body better than you do.

Cancer also transformed me emotionally. It stripped away the superficial and forced me to focus on what truly matters. It made me stronger, but not in the cliché way people often describe strength. It made me stronger because I had no choice but to face fear head-on. It taught me resilience, patience, humility, and gratitude in ways I never would have learned otherwise.

Out of this pain, something meaningful was born: Evoluciona.

Creating Evoluciona became part of my healing. It represents transformation, resilience, and the beauty that can emerge even after life breaks you apart. My experience with cancer gave me a new purpose—to support, empower, and uplift others who are walking through their own battles. I know what it feels like to have your body changed by illness. I know what it feels like to grieve the version of yourself you were before diagnosis. And I know how powerful it is to be reminded that you are still whole, still beautiful, and still worthy.

Cancer took a lot from me, but it also gave me clarity. It taught me that life is fragile and precious. It taught me not to wait for “someday” to pursue what matters. It taught me that our scars—physical and emotional—tell stories of survival, not weakness.

Today, I am not the same person I was before my diagnosis. Cancer changed me permanently. But not all change is loss. Some change is transformation.

I am more aware. More compassionate. More intentional. More fearless in using my voice. More committed to living with purpose.

If there is one message I want others to take from my story, it is this: listen to your body, trust yourself, and advocate fiercely for your health. Your voice matters. Your instincts matter. And if you are in the middle of your own battle right now, know this—you are stronger than you realize.

Cancer may change you, but it does not define you.

I am a survivor. I am an advocate. I am a woman transformed by pain, purpose, and perseverance.

And this is only the beginning of my story.

Facebook
Twitter