Battling the Unknown: My Journey from PCOS to Ovarian Cyst

It was one random holiday in August when I finally decided to get myself checked—a year after going back and forth thinking about it.

I’d been complaining about lower back pain for three years, but I kept blaming either my poor posture due to mild scoliosis or the epidural anesthesia I had when I gave birth. I also thought it might be from heavy lifting—mostly because of my daughter, Lauren, who would always ask me to pick her up the moment we stepped outside the house. It’s as if she feared being left behind.

By July, I started feeling a pressing pain in my belly, usually beginning on the lower right side, then traveling to the center and throbbing.

And so, four days after Lauren’s third birthday, I took the first step that changed my life. Any further delay back then could have made things worse.

How It All Started

My first trip back to an OB-GYNE specialist was a combination of worry and hope. I was worried because my menstrual cycle had been longer than usual, and my weight had reached its heaviest.

Well, I’ve known since 2017 that I have PCOS, so I thought that might easily explain everything. Yet, going to the doctor was also driven by my hope to get healthy again and prepare for another pregnancy in a year or two.

Taken in front of St. Luke’s Medical Center’s main building in Bonifacio Global City, Taguig.

Wanting the best care possible, I went to St. Luke’s Medical Center (SLMC) in BGC. The doctor advised me to undergo several lab tests and blood work to further assess my condition. Little did I know that after a week, an 11 cm cyst would be found bordering my fallopian tube and ovary.

I was told it wasn’t caused by lifestyle—it just happens. I found that difficult to comprehend, especially since the mass was already more than 10 cm. Medication to dissolve it would no longer work, so I was urgently recommended to have it surgically removed.

Coincidentally, that same morning of September 1, I heard some good news from my brother. That’s why it took me some time to process my diagnosis before I could break the bad news to my family. I didn’t want to ruin such a joyful day.

I thought maybe I’d keep it to myself until I got a second opinion, to prevent unnecessary worry for my family. But I couldn’t bear to delay any longer. I worked up the courage to tell them the next day.

My family was as dumbfounded as I was. And just like clockwork, I assured them that I was okay and that I could manage.

Finding The Right Hospital

In the weeks that followed, I spent time researching other hospitals that could accommodate my operation without breaking the bank.

After learning the estimated cost of the operation at St. Luke’s, I wasted no time finding an alternative. I believe in the quality of their medical service, but let’s face it—it’s beyond our means. Even with my HMO providers (iCare and PhilCare), I would still need to shell out a hefty amount.

So, I made a shortlist of reputable but more affordable hospitals. I asked friends and acquaintances for recommendations and read online reviews. It was after Ninong Reggie’s suggestion that we visited Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital (OLLH) in Sta. Mesa, Manila, for a consultation on September 6.

Taken at the main entrance of Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Sta. Mesa, Manila.

From the moment I spoke with the secretary, Ate Maricel, to meeting my new OB-GYNE, Dra. Genevieve Redoblado-Dy, I felt a sense of peace.

Both were genuinely accommodating. I never felt that my questions were too much—they patiently and calmly answered them all. Not only them, but every hospital staff member we encountered was courteous and always greeted us with a smile.

I told my husband and family that these simple acts of kindness were more than enough for me to entrust my operation to Lourdes.

After further tests and receiving cardiopulmonary clearance from the equally good-natured Dr. Rogelio Suyom Jr., I was finally scheduled for surgery on Saturday, September 27. Coincidentally, this was also the feast day of my college alma mater’s patron saint, Vincent de Paul.

Not that I’m a devout Catholic, but I felt blessed to undergo the procedure on his feast day—as if I were being guarded from any harm that might come my way.

The Day of My Operation

I had only one special request before the surgery: I wanted to eat my husband Aaron's home-cooked pesto pasta and grilled chicken with cheese sauce, which he gladly fulfilled.

Comfort on a plate — Aaron’s pesto pasta and grilled chicken with cheese sauce.

With every bite, I felt energized, as if there was nothing I couldn’t overcome.

My fasting started at 4 a.m. My high school friends visited hours before the operation, and their presence gave me even more strength. My best friend, Yvhuri, accompanied me up to the operating room—the same way I did for him during his operation last June.

At 12 noon, while I was being prepped, the Angelus was prayed. After silently praying, minutes later, I was sedated. The next thing I knew, I woke up while they were wrapping up. The first words I uttered to the anesthesiologist were, "Gutom na ako" (I am hungry).

My mind was still hazy when I was transferred to the recovery room, where I stayed for almost three hours. Afterward, I was moved back to my room, where my husband and best friend were waiting.

Pain as The First Sign of Healing

The following Sunday, a priest came by to pray over me. I even received communion in bed.

Hours later, I experienced a familiar, labor-like pain—the worst I’d ever felt. It was as if my lower abdomen was being rammed by a road roller. Yes, that kind of pain.

I requested a stronger painkiller and was finally given Arcoxia. After some time, the pain became manageable enough for me to sit up and eat. With assistance, I was even able to go to the comfort room.

I developed a fever, perhaps from the stress and exhaustion, but even so, I felt a little better. By late Monday afternoon, my doctor gave the green light, and I was finally discharged from the hospital.

Now, a week after my operation, I’m happy to share that I’m recovering steadily—slowly but surely.

Celebrating small wins through selfies — Left photo: Taken on my way home after being discharged from the hospital on September 29. Right photo: Taken on October 4, just five days later, and exactly a week after the operation.

Extending My Gratitude

I want to thank everyone who made time to visit me at the hospital before and after the operation. I’m equally grateful to my friends who came by the house to offer their well-wishes, support, and comfort.

Thank you to my family for being my anchor, and to my relatives, friends, former and current colleagues, and acquaintances who prayed for my recovery and healing.

And to OLLH—thank you for letting me experience your “Alagang Lourdes” treatment. Through your doctors’ expertise and the compassion of your nurses and staff, I was constantly reassured that I would soon get better.

Moving Forward

This journey changed me in ways I never expected. It taught me to listen to my body, to slow down, and to be kinder to myself. I’ve learned that healing takes time—and that it’s okay to ask for help and lean on others. I’m still finding my strength day by day, but I wake up grateful for the second chance to live lighter, love deeper, and take better care of myself for the people who matter most.