It was one month ago today that I was diagnosed with cancer. Some days it seems like it was yesterday and others it feels like I have been on this journey for months. Since starting this blog, I have felt securely wrapped in your prayers and positive thoughts. I have grasped that no one fights alone and that #TeamEliza is more than a hashtag; it’s my army for this battle.

Here is the latest:

Port procedure: On April 11^th, I had my medi-port procedure to place a port under my right collarbone. This is how I will receive chemotherapy, lab work, and anything else that would require multiple needle sticks. One of the chemotherapy treatments I am on is too strong to go through any of my veins so this port is the safe alternative. It will also eliminate the risk of infection and it’s a one-time stick instead of repeatedly using my arm veins. Writing the positives about the port is a BIG STEP for me. We were not friends when this was first placed inside of me. I had a major fear of the entire concept and couldn’t wrap my head around a needle going into my chest. Out of all things to panic over, I didn’t think this would be it… but oh boy was it. However, I’m happy to report we have become better friends. Through the help of my friend, Mallory, who is an excellent nurse in Atlanta, we facetimed and did a “mock session” of her accessing my port and relieved a lot of my fears. The real test will be Wednesday morning and I am more than ready.

First chemotherapy session: After my port procedure I went straight to my first chemotherapy session. It is not recommended because it’s a long day but I wanted to start killing cancer the minute I was able. I am on three chemotherapy drugs. The first one drips for 90 minutes and I handled it very well (thanks to all of your prayers… and Dwight Schrute from The Office on my ipad). The second one is a little more difficult. The side effects are more intense with nausea, dizziness, slurred speech and foaming at the mouth (very attractive), but thankfully it’s only during the drip, which is 30 minutes. My third chemotherapy drips for 72 hours. Yes, you read that correct… 72 hours. I leave the hospital with a fanny pack full of chemo that drips into my port for three days. Thank God fanny packs are coming back into style! The side effects of the three-day drip are uncomfortable but manageable thanks to last week’s caretakers Tindal, Kelly and my amazing mom. After the three days I go back to MSK to disconnect from the fanny pack and receive any immune boosters that I need. Last week, I needed a shot to increase my white blood cell count. Shoutout to my little brother for letting me squeeze his hand (hard) throughout the entire process. The side effects of that shot might be my least favorite part of the process. It pulls healthy bone marrow from your toughest bones (think femur, pelvic and ribs), which causes horrible bone pain. I felt like Nancy Kerrigan on repeat. Silver lining: I only have to receive this shot when my white blood cell levels are low, so please pray that my immune system kicks in and it will not be a weekly shot.

First meeting with my oncology surgeon: Last week I met with my oncology surgeon, we will name him Dr. Steph Curry. He was very straight forward, but I respected his approach and he gained my family’s trust through his manner. He spent over an hour not only discussing my disease, but also learning about me as a person. He was excellent at answering any questions we had (surgical and non-surgically related). The game plan for now is that after four months of chemo we will sit down with my medical oncologist (Dr. Wayne Gretzky), as well as this surgeon to establish the best course of action. The two options will be another round of chemotherapy or to move ahead with surgery. Dr. Curry said the surgery would be as extensive as it needs to be to remove all the cancer, while doing his best to ensure I live a normal life. I could have taken his answer two ways: with fear or with hope. I’m choosing hope, because it is the only force stronger than fear and because I truly believe cancer is a chapter, but not my story.

Ascites: I am continuing to have ascites, a fancy medical word for fluid in my stomach. It’s one of the gross symptoms of any GI cancer. Thankfully, I am able to have it drained whenever I am feeling uncomfortable and it’s minimally invasive. Last week they drained 16 pounds of fluid off of my stomach… again. Yes, pretty uncomfortable but then instant relief! This really helps manage the backaches and makes it easier to get up and move around to keep my blood pumping. Once the chemotherapy really gets in and starts attacking those cancer cells (usually 3-4 treatments) the ascites should start to diminish on its own.

Visitors: The past week I had the most special visitors. First, the Wellborns (my Godmother and God sister) came to visit and help with my ascites procedure. Then, this past weekend Kayla and Trace (the bride and groom whose wedding I missed) came to visit along with all of our closest friends. The timing could not have been better. The Lord had blessed me with three great days in a row while they were in town. My white blood cell count being too low to go out to restaurants/public areas and me being weak did not keep us down. We had a “Toast to Eliza” for brunch because I am on a dry toast and clear liquid diet right now. Lastly, we had a special night in, which I dressed in real clothes and brushed my hair for the first time in a month. I even felt well enough to get up and dance to Glory Days with my mom.

What’s next: Wednesday I go back to MSK for my second round of chemotherapy. I will also meet with Dr. Wayne Gretzky to discuss adding food back into my diet… you have no idea how excited I am about that conversation!

Final thoughts: Throughout this past month, I have come to appreciate I am going to have really great days and pretty low times. This past weekend with my friends showed me to truly embrace the good days with good people… and that pedialyte and ginger ale taste much better out of a wine glass. I also realize that on my bad days, not being ok is ok. It’s not giving up, it’s your body beating cancer and you becoming stronger.

Specific prayer requests: For my white blood cell count to stabilize, for the ascites to diminish with the chemotherapy and for my small intestine and colon to be healthy. “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you.” – Isaiah 43:2

~Eliza

First, I want to thank each and everyone of you for the positive thoughts, specific prayers, text messages and words of encouragement. Second, let me just go ahead and get this out here: I am not a writer and the idea of blogging intimidates me. But, the outpouring of love and support my family and I have received the past few weeks has me ready to tell my story and let people join me, encourage me, and inspire me through this journey as much as they would like.  So here we go…

Background: I am a 25 year old, healthy girl who lives in New York City. I visit my PCP, endocrinologist and dermatologist for my annual routine appointments. As my friends will tell you, I was “Nurse Eliza” in college… I always had the advil, pepto bismol, bandaids etc. in my purse at all times. So when I began having stomach pains 1.5 years ago, I immediately went to see a GI specialist in Manhattan and was quickly diagnosed with Celiac Disease (aka no more gluten) after an endoscopy. I stuck with a gluten diet for a month or two and I did not feel any better. Won’t lie, I fell off the no gluten wagon (sorry, but I love bread) and contributed the pains to I’ve just always had an “off stomach”.

The diagnosis: One month ago the stomach pains were back, but this time it was associated with a lot of bloating. I went to my PCP and she recommended Tums. The next week, I went back to her and said I feel worse and to look at the increase in bloating. That time she recommended Prilosec and said my swelling was from acid reflux. Two days later, I was vomiting. I knew something was wrong, but this time, I knew I needed someone to listen to me. Friday, March 23rd, I went to the Emergency Room complaining of all of my symptoms. I was immediately taken back and given a full work up (sonogram, CT scan, abdominal exam). 45 minutes later, sitting alone, I was told I have a mass, the size of man’s fist, on my left ovary that is cancerous. I want to tell everyone I was scared and lonely and mad when I heard, “You are 25 and have ovarian cancer,” but this blog isn’t going to come with frosting and lipstick, it’s going to come with honesty. The emotion that I felt was relief. Relief that someone had listened to me, relief that I wasn’t being told to go buy another over the counter drug, relief that I had an answer. The first thing I did was stand up and hug my doctor and say, “Thank you for believing me. Thank you for listening.”

What do you do next? I’m not going to fib here either, saying the C word in your head is a lot easier than saying it out loud. The next two phone calls I made were to my parents and to my boyfriend (parents were in Atlanta and my boyfriend had just landed in Key West). The doctor stayed next to me to help explain my diagnosis because as you can imagine, they were not expecting this phone call… (side piece of advice, let people know when you take yourself to the ER so they are a little prepared). My roommate Tindal was in the city and came to meet me in the ER (with ginger-ale, cozy pi’s and extra phone chargers in hand… she is my girl!) and we were transported by ambulance to the Lenox Hill Hospital on the Upper East Side.

The waiting period: Woof, this was the hardest part for me, as most of you know patience is not in my vocabulary. Waiting to see doctors, waiting for another scan, waiting for a game plan. However, with my dad on the case I had no doubt miracles would be made…. pretty sure he used the movie Taken as the analogy to the mission he was on. A few days later, I was transferred from Lenox Hill to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center where I had an appointment with the “Lebron James” of ovarian cancer.

Plot twist: Dr. Lebron James took me back for a 9 hour exploratory surgery to learn every detail about my cancer and get answers from pathology. The best part of this surgery…. they drained over 14 lbs of fluid out of my abdomen (hey PCP, it was not bloating and needless to say, my clothes fit better than ever). When the pathology results came back, it showed that this cancer did not start in my ovary, it had spread to there…. from my appendix. Huh?

Appendix cancer: Dr. Lebron James had scheduled an appointment for me to meet with Dr. Wayne Gretzky of GI Cancer (can you tell my boyfriend chose these nicknames?). At this appointment, I was diagnosed with Stage IV Appendix Cancer that had spread from my GI to my left ovary where it had built that mass. Quick facts: Memorial Sloan Kettering sees only 60 Appendix Cancer cases per year as the chances of having Appendix Cancer are about 1 person for every 1.5 million people… Should I go buy a lottery ticket?

The game plan: Since I have Stage IV cancer and it is the most aggressive type, surgery is not an option at this time because the cancer cells are not contained to one organ or even one body system. Tomorrow, (well 4 hours from now) I check into MSK to have a procedure to have a chemo port implanted below my collar bone and will start chemotherapy immediately after. Dr. Wayne Gretzky is bringing out “all of her starters” and I’m going to do three chemotherapy drugs at once for a four month period. After the four months, I will have scans to see how my body is responding to the chemotherapy.

If you’ve stuck with me through all of this, I’m impressed with your attention span or you really must love me. I will be updating this blog with any new information that we receive throughout this journey, as well as: funny stories, pictures, prayer requests and sweet moments that happen along the way. I write this in comfort knowing that I have had more bellyaches from laughing than pain (just wait until I share the stories that have happened thus far) and more tears of joy than sadness since my diagnosis. I am confident, I am positive and I am ready to fight. But cannot do this alone and I am so thankful to have each and everyone of you by my side on #TEAMELIZA as we beat cancer together because, although I have cancer… cancer does not have me.

Thanks for joining me ~Eliza

Specific prayer requests: For the cancer to respond well to chemotherapy and for minimal side effects from tomorrow’s port procedure and first chemotherapy session.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton