My name is Maria. I am Italian, a wife and a mother of two. For the past ten years, I have lived without a stomach.

Gastric cancer became part of my life when I was just nine years old. My mother died from advanced gastric cancer at 31, leaving three children. I was the eldest. Losing her so young shaped the person I became, and the fear that the disease might return to our family stayed with me.

Still, I built a life of my own. I developed a career, married the man I had met when I was 18, and became a mother to two wonderful children.

Years later, my mother’s younger sister was diagnosed with gastric cancer. Her doctor in Germany had recently read about an inherited mutation in the CDH1 gene associated with hereditary diffuse gastric cancer, and suggested genetic testing at Hannover University Hospital.

My aunt tested positive. I contacted a geneticist in Italy, and our family members were tested. My result was positive too.

I will never forget the phone call. My children were just four months and three years old. My first thought was of them. I knew what it meant to grow up without a mother, and I was terrified that my children might face the same loss.

My geneticist explained that the mutation put me at a very high lifetime risk of gastric cancer, as well as an increased risk of lobular breast cancer. She initially recommended close surveillance, including annual breast examinations and a gastroscopy every ten to twelve months.

But I had also learnt that doctors in Germany were advising people with this mutation to consider preventive removal of the stomach. Diffuse gastric cancer can begin in tiny areas within the stomach lining, making the earliest changes difficult to detect during gastroscopy.

That possibility worried me. When my geneticist continued to recommend surveillance, I contacted the German doctors treating my aunt. Given my mutation and family history, they recommended a preventive total gastrectomy: removal of the whole stomach.

It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. I chose surgery. My stomach and gallbladder were removed.

Some people questioned my decision. Then the pathology results came back. They showed very early cancerous changes that the gastroscopy had missed. For me, that confirmed I had made the right choice.

Ten years later, I am doing well. Living without a stomach is not always easy, though. I cannot eat everything I would like, and I need to eat small amounts. Sometimes, eating causes pain, weakness or sudden changes in my blood sugar. I have had to build a new relationship with food and with my body.

Yet food is still a source of joy. I have developed a real passion for cooking. I may only be able to taste a little of what I prepare, but watching my family and friends enjoy it gives me enormous pleasure.

Today, I also support others through the Italian patient association Vivere senza Stomaco Si Può, a member organisation of Digestive Cancers Europe. I want people facing similar situations to know that life after gastrectomy can still be full of meaning, love and happiness.

Every minute of life is worth living.

I am Maria. I am not my disease. And that is what matters most.