The importance of regular check-ups cannot be overstated because doing so puts you in a better place regarding treatment options and survival rates for health conditions. Such is the case with ovarian cancer. While according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the disease affects Black women at a lower rate than other races and ethnicities, typically African-American women with ovarian cancer do not live as long as non-Hispanic white patients.

However, researchers can’t say with clarity why this discrepancy exists. It’s been linked to factors such as socioeconomic issues and access to healthcare. Still, knowing the signs—which include bloating, pelvic or abdominal pain, feeling full quickly, changes in your period, and painful sex— and making an appointment with a healthcare provider gives you the best chance at survival.

The importance of being proactive can’t be overstated. Just ask Roslyn Y. Daniels, president and founder of Black Health Matters (BHM), which offers the African American community inclusive health and wellness information. Daniels reached out to her doctor when she noticed changes in her sexual health. This is her story about her journey with ovarian cancer.

I was diagnosed with Stage III ovarian cancer in 2016 at around 52 years old, which is relatively young (the average age of diagnosis is 63). Before my diagnosis, I saw my OB/GYN yearly, usually in the spring. At the end of the year, I started experiencing very uncomfortable, painful intercourse, and it was like my insides were shaking. Instead of going to my regular doctor, I chose someone closer to where I lived.

I explained my symptoms to the doctor and was told to return a week later for a sonogram. During the sonogram, as I was having a great conversation with the woman who was giving me my exam, she stopped talking. The conversation became slower. However, I didn't think anything was wrong because I had been seeing my GYN for years, and he was the same one who delivered my son. So there was trust there.

I was told there was something "suspicious" and that I should have an MRI. When those results came back from the MRI, I was told there was no time to wait. I needed surgery pretty quickly. That occurred within a month, and as part of my treatment, I also had 16 weeks of chemotherapy.

When you're given a cancer diagnosis and, in my case, advanced cancer, it clouds everything. Before my diagnosis, I had just stocked up at a Christmas sale at Bloomingdale's. I returned everything after the diagnosis because I didn't know if I would make it and didn't want to saddle my 33-year-old son with my debt. Although initially, I had decided that I didn't want to burden my family with this information and thought I could actually go through something like this by myself, my doctor spent 45 minutes on the phone convincing me otherwise. She wouldn't let me off the phone until I committed to asking my family for help.

I was also simultaneously going through a divorce, but my faith was in overdrive. I was in the hospital for a week after my surgery, and when I got out, it felt like the season had changed from winter to spring. My senses were heightened, and I came out understanding that there was so much that could have gone wrong but didn't. And while I had my own business, I couldn't forget that the bills would be expensive. But I was lucky because my physician helped me tap into funds that her hospital offered for financial assistance.

Additionally, my job helped save my life because I took my advice of being my own advocate. The work I do is because of the families and people in my life that died too soon. I started BHM in 2012 in honor of my grandmother, who died from a gynecologic cancer. [I never knew and still don’t know what kind.]

When my grandmother was on her deathbed in the hospital, I noticed that my parents, who were pillars of the community and social rights movements, were just standing in the corner, wringing their hands and crying. I understood then that there was something bigger than that because they had always felt that anything was possible, but when it came to the healthcare system, they did not advocate for her. They did not check on her to make sure she had regular physicals or annual visits, and she did not do that for herself.

Before the Affordable Care Act, I felt Black folks were very pessimistic about their health. If someone had diabetes and they had an amputation, that was kind of going to be their fate. If there were mental illness or alcoholism in your family, that would be your fate too. But I felt that Black folks were more aspirational after the ACA. While we don't fully understand what it would look like because we still are not fully stepping into what access can do for us, but the door has been opened.

So what, my job with BHM is to tap into the Black experience and make it a movement. So when you set it up as education, this community, we will seek it out and move forward. Our job at BHM is to offer and frame the discussion that helps the unempowered and the underserved feel like this is their run. We're an advocacy organization fighting the social determinants of health. It doesn't matter what access you have if you're not eating fresh vegetables, not managing your stress, not sleeping, or having positive relationships in your life.

So we are educating. We want to build a community to build a culture of health. We've got to destigmatize various diseases, and we must help find ways to avail ourselves of what science offers.

In my personal health journey, I am aging gracefully and beautifully. You can come back [from being sick], but you need something for your soul in your spirit, something to give you that extra dimension to be fortified, to take on whatever life has to give you. We're all going to go, but it's all about getting informed, finding comfort in the information you find, and just keep striving.

Editor’s note: This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.