Surfing the Scenic Route, Climbing Through the Chaos, and Laughing All the Way Up

It started with PCOS in my teens. I didn’t know what was happening to my body- and neither did the doctors. In the 90’s, PCOS was barely a whisper in the medical world. Imagine being a confused teenager. You are gaining weight and missing periods while trying to fit in. You have no clue why your body was constantly betraying you. Spoiler alert: the only thing I was pregnant with was a rage and cysts.

My mom took me to the doctor every time my periods would mess up. (3 months apart) But it was always the same doctor, and always the same dismissive answer. “She’s pregnant- it’s just not showing up in the blood work or the urine test yet.’ I was apparently the immaculate conception on the loop. Eventually I gave up. Stopped going. I accepted that I had weird periods and a bloated uterus. I carried a medical mystery badge that would age like a fine WTF.

Then I got married. Wanted kids. And guess what? PCOS doesn’t just disappear-it shows up again, like a toxic ex at a family wedding. I found an amazing fertility doctor who finally gave the real diagnosis: PCOS and insulin resistance. That started a 10-year fertility saga. It featured several miscarriages and seven failed rounds of IVF. There was emotional whiplash and hormone rages. Ultimately, it led to adoption.

And let me be clear: Adoption, it’s still the best decision I ever made. (Well, second best- my husband remains the gold medal decision. Even if he occasionally loads the washing machine like it’s a crime scene.)

Fast forward to 2020, Another PCOS moment of ” are you dying or just unlucky?” sent me to the ER. I thought I was miscarrying again. I wasn’t. But then came 2021: uterine cancer. Followed by pre-op labs that shouted “Surprise! You also have Diabetes and Hashimoto’s disease!”

That year was less about healing and more about aggressively not dying while smiling politely.

Now? It’s 2025, and my body is still trying to get its name on a medical journal cover. I’ve got some new autoimmune mystery brewing and a neuroendocrine cancer nodule in my right lung. Because why the hell not.

I built a business somewhere in all that chaos. I became a mom. I tried very hard to not completely fall apart, or commit any light felonies out of frustration.

This blog is where I process the madness. I scream into the void. I laugh until I cry. Occasionally, I share something actually helpful. It’s unfiltered, hilarious, sometimes ugly, and all mine.

If your life feels held together with sarcasm and strong tea. There’s also that single, exhausted piece of duct tape. If so, you’re home. Welcome to the shitshow. Let’s climb this damn Mountain together.