Healing, Fighting, Living… and Doing It My Way

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Surgery #2 February 2025

Where do I even begin…

After I healed from my first surgery, I stepped into my next chapter—chemotherapy. Not the dramatic TV kind where everything pauses and sad music plays… but the real-life version where life keeps going, bills still exist, and you’re just trying to figure out if today’s exhaustion is from chemo, cerebral palsy, or just being a human being.

I started my six-month pill chemo treatment, and honestly, I didn’t want cancer to take over my identity. I made a decision: if I was going through this, I was still going to live my life. Fully. So I did. I traveled. I went on adventures. I worked part-time at LIFE—doing a job that fills my heart in ways I can’t even explain. I had the most incredible support system—my family, my friends, my managers, my clients. People who didn’t just understand my situation… they held me through it.

And let me be real—chemo was not cute. There were nights my body felt like it was waving a white flag. Nights where I questioned everything—“Is this pain from surgery? My cerebral palsy? The chemo? Or all three just teaming up against me?” Honestly… probably a group project.

But through it all, I kept telling myself something powerful:

Your mindset matters. I truly believe that the way I chose to think and show up helped me push through physically. Not perfectly but persistently. I remember sitting with my oncologist, and he told me something that changed everything: My case was rare and complicated… but there was a real possibility I could become cancer-free. Because of how my cancer spread contained mainly to my ovary there was hope it hadn’t traveled further.

That moment?

That was everything.

Suddenly, every hard day, every pill, every breakdown it all felt worth it. As I got closer to finishing chemo, I felt like I was sprinting toward the finish line. I had my whole life waiting for me. A new perspective.

A deeper understanding that life is way too short to play small.

And let me tell you nothing shifts your mindset faster than hearing “stage 4 cancer.”

The “Plot Twist” I Did Not Order

After chemo, I moved into the “monitoring phase” appointments every three months, blood work, scans… the usual “let’s keep an eye on things.”

I still had some minor symptoms, including bowel obstructions (which, by the way, are not fun but compared to cancer, I was like, “Okay, we can handle this.” Growth, right? 😅).

Then one day… I felt something off.

A weird ache on my right ovary. And of course, I tried to rationalize it like we all do: “Oh, she’s just working overtime since the left one retired early.” I was going to the gym, trying to stay active, working on my strength and I genuinely thought I pulled a muscle. But something in me said… go to the ER. They found a small “fluid-filled mass.” Nothing concerning, they said. Very common. Cool. Love that for me. But then… plot twist (again). Another ER visit for a bowel obstruction and suddenly, that “little harmless thing” had grown. And not only that… it had moved to my ovary. And this all happened on New Year’s. While everyone was celebrating, popping champagne, and making resolutions… I was in the ER having full-on flashbacks. It felt like my entire past was repeating itself. And I panicked. They wanted to transfer me to a bigger hospital, but I looked at the clock it was almost midnight. And I had this irrational but very real thought:

“If I start my year in the hospital… I’m going to spend the whole year here.”

So what did I do?

I signed out AMA.

Yes. I know. Bold. Slightly chaotic. Very on-brand.

The next day, I went back (because, let’s be responsible-ish), and right before my scan… I farted. And if you know anything about bowel obstructions that was my Olympic gold medal moment. Scan came back: obstruction gone.

Victory.

BUT… that “little mass”?

Now double the size.

I literally said, “How does something grow that fast?! What is this on steroids?!” Doctors weren’t concerned. But I was. Because I had seen this story before.

Trusting Myself Saved Me Again

I tried to schedule with my OBGYN… and of course, she wasn’t available for four months. Four. Months. They offered another doctor, but I said no. I was exhausted from retelling my story. I needed someone who already knew me my history, my body, my fight. And thank God I waited. She called me personally, already looped in with my surgeon, and told me to come in. When I sat with her, I even asked, “Am I being dramatic?” And she looked at me and said:

“Gigi, you have every right to feel this way. You know your body better than anyone.”

I swear… I love that woman. That’s the kind of doctor everyone deserves.

Déjà Vu… But Worse. She ordered scans. And a week later, I got the call. It was a mass. 9 cm. Just like that… déjà vu hit me like a truck. But this time it was different. This time, I didn’t have the comfort of “we don’t know yet.” This time, I knew. Emergency surgery. Full hysterectomy. And in that moment, everything hit me all at once. Not just cancer being back…but the reality that I couldn’t carry children. I didn’t even get time to process it. No time to explore options. No time to breathe. Just… go.I felt like I had taken one step forward and ten steps back.

Surgery Round Two: 0/10, Do Not Recommend

The second surgery was robotic and technically “easier.” Keyword: technically. Because my body said… absolutely not. Just like my first surgery, my blood pressure dropped and I passed out again. Stabilized, admitted, and there I was back in the hospital. For six days. Each day came with a new surprise:

• Blood levels so low they thought the labs were wrong (they weren’t)

• Two bags of blood transfusion

• Fluid in my lungs (yes, they had to drain it…)

• A giant bruise across my stomach that made zero sense. Even my surgeon was confused. She literally said I should be studied. At this point, I was like…“Can I at least get paid for being this medically interesting?” 😅 Recovery from this surgery? Way harder than the first. And then came menopause. Hot flashes, emotions, everything. I didn’t even start my estrogen patches right away because it felt too real. Like… wow. I’m synced with my mom now. Not the bonding experience I expected but here we are.

Where I Am Now

Right now, I’m not doing chemotherapy again. My oncologist wants close monitoring scans and blood work every three months. And honestly? I’m okay with that. Because through everything… I’ve learned something powerful:

Life doesn’t wait. So neither will I.

I’m still traveling.

Still going on adventures.

Still working.

Still laughing.

Still choosing joy—even on the hard days. Because the truth is…you never really know what’s going to happen next. And that used to scare me. But now? It motivates me.

Final Thoughts (For Now…)

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s this:

• Trust your body

• Advocate for yourself

• And don’t wait for “someday” to live your life. Because life is happening right now. And I’m choosing to live mine fully, loudly, and maybe a little chaotically… but always with heart.

Stay tuned. My story isn’t over yet 💛