A few months ago, her pap smear came up abnormal, and they asked her to come in for a follow-up pap in six months.

For once, she took initiative and asked for a referral to another board-certified gynecologist; she wanted to be seen right away, and she wanted to find out what this "abnormality" was. She didn't care that the only doctor who could see her within three months was a man; this was no time to be shy about her reproductive system.

The gynecologist did a biopsy, and it was her first truly uncomfortable experience in the stirrups. Afterwards, she had cramps for two days and spotting for four.

By January 21st, she was feeling better physically, as though she had never had the biopsy, and that's when the doctor's office called.

His nurse broke the news to her. She has carcinoma on the cervix -- a pretty way to say that she has cervical cancer. She was stunned, to say the least. She sat with the phone to her ear and her back to a temporarily empty room -- a studio with four desks, her male fellow co-workers out getting coffee, making a trip to the restroom, or driving back from the photo lab with developed film.

She asked questions, and she made an appointment for a LEEP procedure -- calm, subdued, and rational. Then she called her boyfriend and got the machine. The message she left ended with a voice that rose and broke, and as soon as she hung up, she burst into tears.

That's when one of her co-workers entered, and she wiped her tears, embarrassed. The tears kept coming anyway, and she ended up spilling her troubles at the workplace, where she would have preferred not to have aired her personal laundry.

The co-worker was understanding. "You're in shock," he said. When faced with our own mortality, it's hard not to be upset.

And she was upset. She's healthy, and she doesn't smoke or do drugs; she drinks at most a glass or two of wine each year, and she doesn't sleep around. She eats well and maintains her ideal weight. She was supposed to be at low risk, and yet here she was -- with cancer.

When a body has cancer, it attacks itself, and too far gone, it has no cure. It eventually leads to death.

Fortunately for her, they've caught it early. It's small, it's on the surface, and it hasn't metastasized. The upcoming LEEP procedure, where the cancer is cut out, should be curative.

For now, she waits -- anxious for her next appointment -- never more aware of life's fragility.