Did sex give me cancer?

Last year, Rachel Groom, 31, from Kings Langley, Herts, was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Worse still, she was horrified to find that its probable cause was HPV, a sexually transmitted viral infection. Here, she tells Hollie Smith how unprotected sex left her vulnerable to cancer...

At 31, with a loving family and a rewarding job, you might think I'd have little to worry about. But in fact I've had cancer, I can no longer have children and, unbelievably, despite having had only five partners, it is probably all because of my sex life.

Now I want my situation to be a warning to others that if it could happen to me, it could happen to anyone.

Like many women, when I first noticed some bleeding between periods, I didn't think it was anything serious. But eventually I went to my GP for a check-up just in case.

As I was also due for my three-yearly smear, I had one a week later, in October 2001.

Things didn't feel right and I asked if I needed to see a gynaecologist, but the doctor assured me that, at 29, and with my record of regular smears, there was nothing to worry about.

As I waited for the results, the symptoms worsened and during an aerobics class, I felt a dragging pain in my lower pelvic area.

Concerned, I went back to the doctor, but despite her chasing up the results, they didn't arrive until January 2002, which I felt was appalling given my symptoms.

Some abnormalities had been picked up and my GP now advised me to see a gynaecologist, but there was no mention of cancer.

Within a few days, I was sitting in the consultant's waiting room with my fiance. I remember babbling that I had an infection and that I really wanted it cleared up because I was getting married in June.

I felt vulnerable but told myself that if I was going to have children eventually, I needed to be healthy.

But as he examined me, the gynaecologist's expression changed.

He told me he wanted to take a biopsy and I began shaking - I knew that meant something was seriously wrong. When I begged him to tell me the truth, he said he suspected I had cancer.

Three days later, when I went back, he confirmed I had a tumour on my cervix. I'd been crying all day and felt almost calm by then. I even had a pen and paper to note down what he was saying: I'd need an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) scan to see if the cancer had spread, chemotherapy, a hysterectomy and possibly radiotherapy.

The tumour had been growing inside me for up to a year and when I asked if I was going to die, all he could say was he believed there was a good chance that I wouldn't.

I asked why I had developed cancer and he told me I'd caught the human papillomavirus infection (HPV), which is passed on through sexual contact and is thought to be the main risk factor for cervical cancer.

He was matter-of-fact but I felt sick. I wondered what on earth my mum and sisters would think of me. I'd never been promiscuous, yet I couldn't help but feel tainted.

Telling my parents was heartbreaking. I asked them to come round to the house and struggled to find the words. Mum grabbed me, screaming that she didn't want me to die. Dad looked devastated.

Later, I told my sisters, Nicola, then 31, Heidi, 26, and Victoria, 17. Each of them held me and cried bitterly. I've always been an upbeat person but I've never felt so low.

A few days later I went to Northwood's Mount Vernon Hospital for MRI and CT (computerised tomography) scans.

They revealed my tumour was about 3.5cm in diameter, but there was no sign of any cancer in my lymph nodes - the glands that form part of the body's lymphatic system and which can be a common site for cervical cancer to spread to.

The doctors told me the tumour had grown about 4mm out of my cervix towards my vagina, and they felt a radical hysterectomy was my best chance. With a less advanced tumour, it might just have been possible to remove just the cervix and leave the womb in place, but mine was aggressive.

At that point I fainted. I suppose I'd been hoping for a miracle, that they wouldn't have to take away my womb and with it my chances of having a baby.

But Mum told me the important thing was that I stay alive, and I knew she was right. So I agreed.

The doctor explained that before the operation I needed to have chemotherapy to shrink the tumour, hopefully by up to half.

Two weeks after the diagnosis, I began chemotherapy. Despite everything I was confident and optimistic.

All those chemicals in the system left me disorientated. But I didn't feel too sick and I didn't lose any hair - although, ironically, I later lost handfuls of it through stress.

I left the house I'd been sharing with my fiance. Our relationship had broken down under the strain, so I moved in with my parents to get the love and care I desperately needed.

Ten days later I returned to hospital for another MRI to see how I'd responded to treatment. The tumour had shrunk by just 20 per cent, not 50 per cent; and worse, it was growing into my bladder. It was now considered inoperable.

More chemotherapy and radiotherapy was my only hope and my chances of survival were cut from 90 per cent to 60 per cent.

My older sister Nicola, who's an NHS hospital executive at Watford General, wasn't convinced by the diagnosis and insisted on a second opinion.

An old friend, a doctor, recommended Desmond Barton, a gynaecological surgeon at London's Royal Marsden Hospital, and Nicola arranged an appointment with him.

He carried out an examination and further biopsies. He discovered the tumour wasn't growing in my bladder, simply leaning against it. Mr Barton was willing to perform surgery and on March 26, 2002, I checked into the Royal Marsden.

During the operation, Mr Barton removed not just my womb and cervix but the tissues surrounding it, the top of my vagina, and a number of lymph nodes.

Having part of my vagina removed, I was told, shouldn't affect my sex life, although it was the last thing I was worried about by then.

My ovaries were unaffected by the cancer and were moved out of my pelvis and fixed to my ribs, so they wouldn't be damaged by any future radiotherapy, which would put me through an early menopause.

Some of my eggs were frozen so technically I could later have a child through surrogacy, though I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Straight after the surgery I felt quite spiritual, almost as though I was re-born.

Mr Barton said he was confident he'd got all the cancer out, though he thought a course of radiotherapy might be wise. I felt so grateful. It took me six months to recover physically. I'd lost two stone in as many months, and I was weak and exhausted.

Emotionally I was up and down, as I thought about a future without children. But I found comfort in designing a new range of products for my business.

I sell footwear for patients affected by lymphoedema, or swollen feet, which ironically are often caused by radiotherapy. I'd set up the business two years before falling ill and Mum kept it ticking over for me during my treatment.

In the end the surgery was considered so successful that further radiotherapy was unnecessary. I've been back to the Royal Marsden every three months and, recently, I was given the 15-month all clear.

After two years, the check-ups will be every six months, and when five years have passed I'll be home and dry. To boost my chances I've adopted a healthy diet and I run two miles every day to keep fit. Since my surgery, I've done extensive research into the HPV virus.

There are many strains: some which cause warts, others which are symptomless, and some are more dangerous than others. It causes abnormal cells to develop in the cervix, which can become cancerous.

Problems aren't always picked up by smears, but I'd like to know if a mistake was made for my own peace of mind, so I've instructed a solicitor to investigate.

HPV is virtually always passed on through sexual contact and while many sexually active women may carry it, relatively few will develop abnormal cells because the immune system usually kills off the virus.

Sometimes it doesn't though, especially where other factors are also at play.

Long-term use of the Pill has been suggested as a link, although there's no clear evidence and it may simply be that women who take the Pill are more likely to have HPV because they have unprotected sex.

Smoking, a poor diet, and early or promiscuous sexual behaviour are all thought to add to the risk.

I haven't always eaten healthily but I've never smoked and I've only had five sexual partners, my first when I was 18.

It is possible that a monogamous woman can become infected by a once-promiscuous partner. HPV can stay in the body for many years, so I don't know who I got it from.

Even if I did, what could I do about it? Although I know they could be putting other women at risk, I just couldn't face tracking them down. I felt bitter for a long time but I have moved on.

From my research I know it's a growing problem - as many as 50 per cent of women may carry HPV at some point in their life, yet 75 per cent don't know what it is.

I'd like others to learn from my experiences, which is why I hope to give talks at schools. If people see that it happened to me, perhaps they'll understand it can happen to anyone.

My advice is to always use a condom - I never did because I was in long-term relationships and believed that made me safe.

But until you know someone very, very well, condoms are essential. It's not just HPV that's a risk - sexually transmitted diseases are a growing problem and we need to educate people.

Recently I've been seeing a new boyfriend and although it's early days, we seem happy. I told him immediately what I'd been through and he's been supportive.

I've come to terms with the fact I won't have a child. It must be wonderful to create a new life but I also believe it would be rewarding to give a disadvantaged child a better chance through adoption, so that's what I hope to do.

Last year my life was in ruins but now, through all this, I've discovered a lot about what's really important.

Before my cancer, what concerned me were houses, cars, money and marriage. Now, simply being alive is the only thing that matters.