From Doctor to Patient: My Mom’s Fight Against Cancer.

Hello everyone,

My name is Marine, and I’m fundraising for my mother — a woman who has spent over 30 years saving lives and bringing new ones into this world. As a gynecologist, she supported countless women through their most vulnerable moments. She caught cervical and ovarian cancers early, delivered babies safely, and offered comfort and care when it was needed most.

Many women still reach out to thank her for being there — for listening, for acting swiftly, for saving them.

In March — just one month before my wedding — my mother was diagnosed with stage 3C ovarian cancer. She underwent a 6.5-hour surgery. In one day, our world collapsed.

The woman who had always been my sunshine, my strength, became someone afraid of what tomorrow might bring. My wedding day — something I had once dreamed about — no longer mattered. All my focus was on my mom.

Three weeks after surgery, I brought her to Finland, where I live, because there was no one to take care of her in Armenia. It was a risk. I stepped into the unknown. But I knew I had to do everything I could.

She is now receiving chemotherapy here. Three treatments are done, and the results are promising. Today, for the first time in weeks, I saw her smile. I saw a spark of hope return to her eyes.

We’ve recently received her genetic test results. Her doctors have prescribed maintenance therapy with Olaparib (Lynparza) and Bevacizumab (Avastin) — treatment that can significantly delay the return of cancer and extend her life.

I’ve put everything I had into her care — including all the savings I had set aside for my future maternity leave. I can cover her chemotherapy and 15 cycles of Bevacizumab.

But the cost of Olaparib — 5,464 EUR per month for up to 2 years — is beyond what I can carry alone. While the full cost of Olaparib for two years is over €130,000, I am currently fundraising €85,000 — enough to cover the most critical portion of the treatment and give my mom a real chance.

When I met my 63-year-old mother at the airport, she was in a wheelchair. I hugged her, and she felt so fragile. Her light was gone. Through her tears, she looked at me and said:

"I want to live. I want to see my grandchildren."

That is all she wants — more time. A chance to live. A chance to see the future she helped build for so many others.

If you can help — whether through a donation or by sharing this story — it would mean the world to us.

This is not just about a treatment. It’s about time. Hope. Life.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,

Marine