I was working 12-hour shifts in the ER so brushed off the two red flags that hinted at my looming ovarian cancer diagnosis at 30. Here’s what I want all women to know

Shabnam Gujadhur spent years learning how to deliver bad news – but she never imagined she would be on the other side of an ovarian cancer diagnosis.

In 2022, just after turning 30, the Gold Coast doctor was working long, punishing shifts as an intern in emergency medicine. 

Borders had just reopened, and the department was overwhelmed with Covid cases. 

She was exhausted, driven, and determined not to let anything slow her down.

Then her body began to change.

‘I started experiencing some abdominal pain,’ she told the Daily Mail. 

‘It just felt like cramps. I didn’t really put much to it – I was taking Panadol and just pushing through. Then I experienced some intermenstrual bleeding.

‘I didn’t really see anyone because I was working as a doctor. I prioritised work and pushed it aside.

‘I didn’t want to take any days off because there were so many people who were sick – I felt guilty.’ 

It would take several weeks – and a friend’s insistence – before she finally booked a GP appointment.

‘It’s probably just a cyst’

The initial tests offered reassurance.

An ultrasound suggested an ovarian cyst. A CT scan followed, and the radiologist recommended monitoring it and repeating imaging in a few months.

‘At 30, I had no family history of ovarian cancer,’ Shabnam said. 

‘I was fit and healthy. I didn’t meet the risk factors.’

Even as a doctor, cancer didn’t cross her mind.

‘I never suspected it might be cancer at all. I’ve got a family history of fibroids and endometriosis, so I thought it was related to that. Never, ever did I think I’d be given a cancer diagnosis at 30.’

Ovarian cancer, she knew professionally, was complex and poorly understood – but personally, it still felt remote.

The recommendation was to wait – but her GP felt uneasy.

‘She said it was better to get it removed, and I followed her advice,’ Shabnam said. 

That decision – made jointly by a doctor who listened and a patient who advocated – would change everything.

The diagnosis that changed everything 

Shabnam underwent surgery to remove what was presumed to be a benign cyst. A week later, she returned for the results.

‘The gynaecologist sat me down,’ she said. 

‘The look in her eyes – I knew it wasn’t good. I’ve had that same look myself when I’ve broken bad news to patients.’

The words landed heavily.

‘She said, “Unfortunately, it came back as cancer”, and everything just went blank. All white noise.’

Within hours, she was referred to a gynaecological oncologist. Within a week, she was back in surgery for emergency staging – removal of her left ovary and tube, along with washings to determine the extent of disease.

‘One day I was a doctor working. The next day, I was a patient. That was really confronting.’

The long wait for answers

Ovarian cancer is notoriously difficult to classify. For Shabnam, the uncertainty stretched on for months.

‘It took weeks to months to actually get a diagnosis because of how tricky the biology is,’ she said.

Eventually, the results came back: a rare mixed germ cell tumour – two tumour types in one – detected at Stage 1.

‘I was very lucky it was picked up early,’ she said.

Even then, there was no consensus on what came next. Multidisciplinary meetings debated whether chemotherapy was necessary. Some doctors recommended it, others didn’t.

In the end, given the early stage and complete surgical removal, Shabnam chose strict surveillance over chemotherapy.

‘It’s a 10-year pathway. Regular blood tests, tumour markers, scans, follow-ups. It takes over your life – you just have to adjust to it.’

Now approaching four years since her diagnosis, every scan has been clear.

But the ‘what ifs’ still linger.

‘If I’d followed the CT recommendation and just monitored it, I don’t know if it would’ve progressed and been picked up later,’ she said. 

‘That’s why 70 per cent of women are diagnosed at an advanced stage.’

‘We still know so little’

The experience left Shabnam both grateful and angry.

‘The radiologist recommended monitoring it in six months,’ she said. 

‘That’s really frustrating. It makes me angry to share that, because we still don’t know enough about the biology.’

There is still no reliable early detection test for ovarian cancer.

‘If we had a blood test – something to tell us whether it’s probably cancer or not – we could’ve known sooner. We’re still very far behind in screening and detection.’

That gap in knowledge is what has driven her advocacy since.

She now works with local and international organisations pushing for better funding, early detection research, and improved treatment options – efforts recognised last year when she received a World Ovarian Cancer Coalition Award.

‘My story gave me the power to push for change,’ she said.

The personal cost: identity, fertility, and mental health

‘I think denial was a big part of it,’ she said. 

‘It took me months to process what it meant for my career, my future, my family planning.’

During surgery, doctors also discovered endometriosis. Since then, it has progressed, requiring further operations. 

With one ovary removed, her fertility has been reduced – another loss layered onto the diagnosis.

Being diagnosed so early, she said, raises difficult questions.

‘How do we help women preserve fertility when they’re diagnosed young? That’s a huge challenge,’ she said.

The psychological toll came later.

‘At the end of that year, it really hit me. I developed health anxiety. I was diagnosed with mild depression,’ she said. 

She began seeing a psychologist – a practice she continues today.

‘There’s always that fear of the cancer coming back. Before scans, blood tests, follow-ups – that anxiety is very real.’

Reassurance doesn’t always work – but one thing does 

Shabnam’s parents live overseas and so were unable to be there for her throughout the long process – but came to visit before the first surgery. 

On the day of her second surgery, her aunt – who had been diagnosed with cancer months earlier – passed away.

‘It was devastating for my mum, losing her sister and having me going through a cancer diagnosis at the same time,’ Shabnam said. 

Her friends learned quickly what she needed most.

‘Rather than telling me, “You’ll be okay”, they just stayed with me,’ she said. 

‘You know your body best’

Now, nearly four years on, Shabnam is back at work, continuing her training in internal medicine, with hopes of specialising in oncology.

To women experiencing unexplained symptoms, her message is clear.

‘You know your body best,’ she said. 

‘If something doesn’t feel right, advocate for yourself. See your doctor. Get another opinion if you need to.’

And for those newly diagnosed, Shabnam wants them to remain as positive as possible.

‘There is light at the end,’ she said. 

‘It’s taking it day by day. Some days are harder than others. Reach out. Build a village around you.’