United with Melissa in her fight!
Donation protected
“I was born and raised in Mid-Missouri. I attended undergrad and law school at the University of Missouri. I guess you could say I bleed Black and Gold. In 1995 I joined the ranks of the federal government and resided in Washington, DC until deciding to move back home to my roots in 2010, landing in Kansas City, Missouri. It has been so great being back in the midwest and closer to my family.
Approximately two months ago, shortly after my 47th birthday, I started developing massive headaches and what I thought were migraines. I had never had a migraine before and rarely suffered from headache pain, but I attributed it to stress and age. Day after day, the headaches worsened. Then the insomnia began, along with changes in my vision. It was difficult for me to see out of the left corner of my left eye.
I really began to feel like things may be serious when over the 4th of July weekend I took my dogs for a walk in Loose Park. I have walked this park so many times and knew the paths like the back of my hand. During the walk, I became lost. I knew I was in Loose Park, but I did not know how to leave the park or walk home. So, I kept walking and walking until I eventually found my way home. I again continued to attribute this to the stress I had from a large project at work and fatigue. Later that week, during a trip to Target, I became lost in the store. I must have walked up and down the same aisle 20 times, never finding the items I needed. And the headaches continued. After work one afternoon, I came home and laid down for a nap in the hopes the headache would lessen, but it continued to get worse. That night I began to vomit violently and continuously. The next morning, on July 9th, the pain became unbearable, and I called a co-worker and dear friend who lives close to me for help getting to the Emergency Room at St. Luke’s hospital.
It was at this point I knew something was terribly wrong. Those of you who know me know that I can be quite stubborn. I talked myself out of believing anything was wrong with me…for days and weeks. I thought to myself that there could not possibly be anything seriously wrong. It’s just a headache, right? It is just from stress at work. Maybe I just need a good vacation. When I arrived at the ER, the on-call physician took a CT scan of my brain. Again, I still thought I would be receiving fluids and pain meds and be on my way. When the doctor returned with the results, I was in shock. I heard the words “tumor," “mass," and “cancer." I looked up at my friend who was witnessing these statements and saw tears well up in her eyes. It was then, after hearing those words, that I knew I was seriously ill.
In my mind, I did not equate “tumor" with cancer. I was in denial and thought that the diagnosis was wrong, that the ER doctors had made a mistake. This couldn’t be happening to me. I eat right, work out incessantly, and have no family history to explain this. Yet, much to my dismay, the diagnosis was accurate, and my life completely changed at that moment in the ER.
I was admitted to the hospital shortly after arriving at the ER. After doing scans of my body to determine the source of the cancer, it was determined that the cancer originated in my brain - I had no other masses anywhere else. Quickly, doctors, nurse practitioners, surgeons, and oncologists began to come to my room to explain what was happening and the next steps. On Sunday, July 10th, the surgeon explained that because no other tumors existed in my body, a biopsy of one of the six masses would need to be taken….soon. He then told me this would take place the following Tuesday, July 12th and the tissue from the tumor would be sent to the Mayo Clinic for evaluation. I was still in so much pain and did not realize the extent of the surgery required to obtain the tissue sample. In hindsight, I am so very grateful that I did not understand the seriousness of the surgery I faced in just two days. Just the word craniotomy still sends chills up my spine.
I love to laugh and find humor in small things. I recall my father telling me after the surgery that the doctors had to use an extra sharp saw to cut into my skull because it was so thick. An ongoing joke between us since high school is that I am an “H-H,” our code for hard head. I remember smiling and giggling at that comment, which was the last laugh for quite some time. The recovery process was so painful and so hard, but I made it through. I was so ecstatic to be released from the hospital after a week to recover at home. Once home, the reality of the situation began to set in - that I had been diagnosed with glioblastoma brain cancer and would be facing a myriad of treatments, including chemotherapy and radiation daily for six weeks initially before a break, clinical trials, and possible trips to MD Anderson in Houston, Texas for further clinical trials. I allowed myself a brief period of time to cry and reflect on the seriousness of the diagnosis before I reached inward, to the stubborn part of my inner self. I told myself I was going to fight this cancer with all of my might, and with every ounce of courage and strength I could muster.
The surgeon then approached me with another treatment option, laser-induced thermal therapy (LITT) to ablate the two largest remaining tumors. But he said this would require another surgical procedure. The idea of having another brain surgery was terrifying. After three weeks, I had just begun to feel normal again after the first procedure and was mentally preparing for the chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The thought of starting over was horrifying. But then I began to reason that if we could kill more of the tumors rapidly, I was up for the challenge. The plan was for me to have this procedure on Tuesday, Aug 9th, exactly one month after this nightmare began. Unfortunately, the surgery was not possible. Once again, I was back in the ER at St. Luke’s. I had to be readmitted to the Intensive Care Unit on Wednesday, Aug 3rd, because my brain had began to swell so excessively, so fast. After taking tests and scans, the doctors told me that in addition to the fluid in my brain, there was also bleeding, which made the surgery scheduled for the following Tuesday highly risky at the moment. Secretly, I was so ecstatic that I did not have to have surgery again. It was difficult to bring the swelling back under control and it required me having a PICC line installed so that a concentrated sodium solution could be administered to my body without harming my veins. I needed to begin chemotherapy and radiation immediately, but I had to be discharged first. I could not receive treatment unless it was on an outpatient basis. After the tumor board consisting of my surgeon, my neuro oncologist, and my radiation oncologist met that Monday, Aug 8th, the decision was made to put me on a very high dosage of steroids in the hopes of bringing the swelling down so I could begin treatment. Fortunately, the treatment worked and I returned home on Tuesday, August 9th with radiation and chemotherapy beginning on Wednesday, August 10th.
On the first day of treatment, entering St. Luke's hospital and seeing a sign for the "Cancer Institute" caused me to lose my breath for a moment. In preparation for the radiation a special mask had to be formed and fitted over my face so that I would remain immobile during the numerous treatments. I joked with the technician that it was my Hannibal Lecter mask.
I had tears in my eyes the first time I laid on the hard table in the radiation clinic. As the mask was placed over my face and clamped down to the table, I thought "is this really happening to me? This must be a nightmare." I can still recall a strong odor of steel I smelled as I entered the facility with the bold letters "Radiation Therapy" written above the door. This bold sign, the smell of steel, and the other patients waiting and crying in the waiting room brought me back to reality once again.
In the midst of this, however, so many wonderful things have resulted from my diagnosis. I realized I am surrounded by amazing, loving, kind, and generous people. The amount of love, support, and prayers I have received from family, friends, coworkers, and complete strangers has been incredible. To feel such love has been a true and amazing gift from God. Every single day, hour, minute, and second being alive is a precious gift and one that I will never, ever take for granted again. Remarkably, I have never felt more at peace than I do now. I have placed my faith and trust in God, knowing that everything will work out the way it is supposed to be.
I continue to draw strength from this love, comfort, prayers, and support provided to me. It is with this strength I will fight the cancer. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and for considering me for a GoFundMe donation. Your generosity will be so helpful to me as I continue this long journey.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being in this battle alongside me,
Melissa"
Approximately two months ago, shortly after my 47th birthday, I started developing massive headaches and what I thought were migraines. I had never had a migraine before and rarely suffered from headache pain, but I attributed it to stress and age. Day after day, the headaches worsened. Then the insomnia began, along with changes in my vision. It was difficult for me to see out of the left corner of my left eye.
I really began to feel like things may be serious when over the 4th of July weekend I took my dogs for a walk in Loose Park. I have walked this park so many times and knew the paths like the back of my hand. During the walk, I became lost. I knew I was in Loose Park, but I did not know how to leave the park or walk home. So, I kept walking and walking until I eventually found my way home. I again continued to attribute this to the stress I had from a large project at work and fatigue. Later that week, during a trip to Target, I became lost in the store. I must have walked up and down the same aisle 20 times, never finding the items I needed. And the headaches continued. After work one afternoon, I came home and laid down for a nap in the hopes the headache would lessen, but it continued to get worse. That night I began to vomit violently and continuously. The next morning, on July 9th, the pain became unbearable, and I called a co-worker and dear friend who lives close to me for help getting to the Emergency Room at St. Luke’s hospital.
It was at this point I knew something was terribly wrong. Those of you who know me know that I can be quite stubborn. I talked myself out of believing anything was wrong with me…for days and weeks. I thought to myself that there could not possibly be anything seriously wrong. It’s just a headache, right? It is just from stress at work. Maybe I just need a good vacation. When I arrived at the ER, the on-call physician took a CT scan of my brain. Again, I still thought I would be receiving fluids and pain meds and be on my way. When the doctor returned with the results, I was in shock. I heard the words “tumor," “mass," and “cancer." I looked up at my friend who was witnessing these statements and saw tears well up in her eyes. It was then, after hearing those words, that I knew I was seriously ill.
In my mind, I did not equate “tumor" with cancer. I was in denial and thought that the diagnosis was wrong, that the ER doctors had made a mistake. This couldn’t be happening to me. I eat right, work out incessantly, and have no family history to explain this. Yet, much to my dismay, the diagnosis was accurate, and my life completely changed at that moment in the ER.
I was admitted to the hospital shortly after arriving at the ER. After doing scans of my body to determine the source of the cancer, it was determined that the cancer originated in my brain - I had no other masses anywhere else. Quickly, doctors, nurse practitioners, surgeons, and oncologists began to come to my room to explain what was happening and the next steps. On Sunday, July 10th, the surgeon explained that because no other tumors existed in my body, a biopsy of one of the six masses would need to be taken….soon. He then told me this would take place the following Tuesday, July 12th and the tissue from the tumor would be sent to the Mayo Clinic for evaluation. I was still in so much pain and did not realize the extent of the surgery required to obtain the tissue sample. In hindsight, I am so very grateful that I did not understand the seriousness of the surgery I faced in just two days. Just the word craniotomy still sends chills up my spine.
I love to laugh and find humor in small things. I recall my father telling me after the surgery that the doctors had to use an extra sharp saw to cut into my skull because it was so thick. An ongoing joke between us since high school is that I am an “H-H,” our code for hard head. I remember smiling and giggling at that comment, which was the last laugh for quite some time. The recovery process was so painful and so hard, but I made it through. I was so ecstatic to be released from the hospital after a week to recover at home. Once home, the reality of the situation began to set in - that I had been diagnosed with glioblastoma brain cancer and would be facing a myriad of treatments, including chemotherapy and radiation daily for six weeks initially before a break, clinical trials, and possible trips to MD Anderson in Houston, Texas for further clinical trials. I allowed myself a brief period of time to cry and reflect on the seriousness of the diagnosis before I reached inward, to the stubborn part of my inner self. I told myself I was going to fight this cancer with all of my might, and with every ounce of courage and strength I could muster.
The surgeon then approached me with another treatment option, laser-induced thermal therapy (LITT) to ablate the two largest remaining tumors. But he said this would require another surgical procedure. The idea of having another brain surgery was terrifying. After three weeks, I had just begun to feel normal again after the first procedure and was mentally preparing for the chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The thought of starting over was horrifying. But then I began to reason that if we could kill more of the tumors rapidly, I was up for the challenge. The plan was for me to have this procedure on Tuesday, Aug 9th, exactly one month after this nightmare began. Unfortunately, the surgery was not possible. Once again, I was back in the ER at St. Luke’s. I had to be readmitted to the Intensive Care Unit on Wednesday, Aug 3rd, because my brain had began to swell so excessively, so fast. After taking tests and scans, the doctors told me that in addition to the fluid in my brain, there was also bleeding, which made the surgery scheduled for the following Tuesday highly risky at the moment. Secretly, I was so ecstatic that I did not have to have surgery again. It was difficult to bring the swelling back under control and it required me having a PICC line installed so that a concentrated sodium solution could be administered to my body without harming my veins. I needed to begin chemotherapy and radiation immediately, but I had to be discharged first. I could not receive treatment unless it was on an outpatient basis. After the tumor board consisting of my surgeon, my neuro oncologist, and my radiation oncologist met that Monday, Aug 8th, the decision was made to put me on a very high dosage of steroids in the hopes of bringing the swelling down so I could begin treatment. Fortunately, the treatment worked and I returned home on Tuesday, August 9th with radiation and chemotherapy beginning on Wednesday, August 10th.
On the first day of treatment, entering St. Luke's hospital and seeing a sign for the "Cancer Institute" caused me to lose my breath for a moment. In preparation for the radiation a special mask had to be formed and fitted over my face so that I would remain immobile during the numerous treatments. I joked with the technician that it was my Hannibal Lecter mask.
I had tears in my eyes the first time I laid on the hard table in the radiation clinic. As the mask was placed over my face and clamped down to the table, I thought "is this really happening to me? This must be a nightmare." I can still recall a strong odor of steel I smelled as I entered the facility with the bold letters "Radiation Therapy" written above the door. This bold sign, the smell of steel, and the other patients waiting and crying in the waiting room brought me back to reality once again.
In the midst of this, however, so many wonderful things have resulted from my diagnosis. I realized I am surrounded by amazing, loving, kind, and generous people. The amount of love, support, and prayers I have received from family, friends, coworkers, and complete strangers has been incredible. To feel such love has been a true and amazing gift from God. Every single day, hour, minute, and second being alive is a precious gift and one that I will never, ever take for granted again. Remarkably, I have never felt more at peace than I do now. I have placed my faith and trust in God, knowing that everything will work out the way it is supposed to be.
I continue to draw strength from this love, comfort, prayers, and support provided to me. It is with this strength I will fight the cancer. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and for considering me for a GoFundMe donation. Your generosity will be so helpful to me as I continue this long journey.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being in this battle alongside me,
Melissa"
Organizer
Melissa Morrow
Organizer
Roosterville, MO
