Ellie’s cancer diagnosis turned out to have far-reaching implications for her sex life…
Engrossed in the latest episode of Sex Education, I really related to the character Lily.
She had a condition called vaginismus, meaning she struggled with penetrative sex.
I knew I wasn’t suffering from that condition.
But I’d been diagnosed with a soft tissue cancer aged just 14.
By 17, my cancer was in remission, but my puberty had been halted and I’d undergone early menopause.
As I’d grown up, I’d realised I was unusually dry and tight down there. But Lily’s character gave me hope
Like her, I decided to order a set of vaginal dilators to help treat my symptoms.
In the privacy of my room, I gradually worked up from a finger-width dilator, to one the diameter of the average penis.
Over my gap year, I met a boy at the care home where I was volunteering.
I’d never felt very womanly before, but his compliments boosted my confidence.
And a few months after we started dating, we had sex for the first time.
It was painless and I was elated to feel so 'normal'.
But after six months, fluid-filled blisters began appearing on my labia.
I’d started university by then, and struggled to sit through lectures.
The first few doctors I saw were nonplussed.
But eventually I was referred to a vulva dermatologist, who diagnosed me with vulval lymphangiectasia, a rare condition resulting from my radiotherapy.
The treatment was a series of injections into my vulva, which were excruciating.
Despite that, it became clear penetrative sex was likely always going to result in extreme pain for me.
I was only 22 and would probably never have sex again.
At first, I was devastated.
My boyfriend was understanding, but I felt so guilty about the lack of intimacy that eventually we broke up.
Gradually, I began to open up about my experiences on social media.
I was invited to work with both the Teenage Cancer Trust and Macmillan on campaigns raising awareness about sex with cancer.
It turned out other people had been feeling just as isolated as I had.
Now I’ve realised that penetrative sex isn’t the be-all and end-all.
I used to feel guilty for being upset about my sex life when so many people lose their lives to cancer.
Today, I know there’s no shame in being honest about your body and needs.
I hope that by sharing my experiences I can help lift the taboo.
● For more information, visit teenagecancertrust.org/sex-and-cancer