"28-year-old female, malignant neoplastic ovaries." Those are the first words I heard after waking up from what was supposed to be a routine laparascopic surgery. To this day, that recovery room nurse has no idea that she is the one that told me I had cancer. 

I was handed a diagnosis of stage IIIc high grade serous carcinoma ovarian cancer, accompanied with an unforgiving 20% survival rate of 5 years. February 13, 2023 will mark 14 years since I heard those words. Why was I blessed with longevity while others aren't? Will it ever come back and take my life the way it took theirs? What can I do with the time I have left, whether it be 1 day or 100 years? How can I lead a fulfilling life geared towards purpose and honoring those that are no longer with us?

I am climbing to the base camp of Mount Everest for the 27 women that I have personally known that have passed away from ovarian cancer. I will climb for them because they can't. 

I'll also climb for me, to remind myself of my beating heart, the breath in my lungs and the gift of life I have been blessed with. Join me in honoring not only the women like me that have been diagnosed with this disease, but also the caregivers that never receive enough credit, the loved ones that wiped away our tears while they tried hide their own, and those that held us up as we did our best not to fall. 

Thank you for your support. It literally means the world to us.