I wasn’t feeling quite right... Which could mean anything from "maybe I need more sleep" to "am I allergic to Mondays?" But in this case, it meant something serious. After some scans and tests, doctors found a 15cm tumor in my abdomen. My CA-125 levels were elevated, and I was fast-tracked into surgery. On May 13, the tumor was removed (6.5-hour long procedure), and a frozen section biopsy confirmed: ovarian cancer. Two weeks later, the full pathology report came in. Out of 52 lymph nodes, one tested positive. There were also cancer cells on the peritoneum. Translation? The cancer had metastasized, and we’re looking at Stage 3 ovarian cancer. That sounds scary—and it is—but here’s the good part: My doctor believes this is curable, and that my prognosis is strong. I’ve already started chemotherapy and completed two rounds so far. Cancer values CA-125 are dropping. This aggressive treatment is working. In the meantime, my hair has made a swift exit (rude), and to spice things up, it turns out I’m highly allergic to chemo. My last round was interrupted with me being stabilized. Not ideal. But I’m still here, and still standing (sometimes sitting, sometimes napping… okay, often napping). Now for the practical stuff: I’m on a medical leave of absence from work. My job and insurance are being held (huge relief), but the physical toll of treatment is intense. I'm mostly exhausted, and managing daily life—meals, laundry, cleaning—takes more energy than I usually have. It’s also really hard to keep everyone updated. Some days I don’t have the bandwidth to reply, or I lose track of who I’ve told what. That’s why this page exists: it’s a place to share updates, offer support, or just check in without pressure. If you’d like to help: The easiest way is via Venmo—just click the Donate via Venmo button on the side of this page. Any support helps with things like groceries, takeout, cleaning services, or other day-to-day tasks that keep me focused on healing. Visiting? It’s tough right now. I don’t always know if it’ll be a good day or a rough one, so I’m keeping things low-key. That said, I love messages and kind notes—they really do lift me up, and I read them when I can. Thanks for being here. This isn’t easy, but it’s easier knowing I’m not doing it alone. Your support, doordash, a message, or a bad pun—makes a real difference. With grit, gratitude, and more fuzzy socks than any human should own, Melissa