My daughter Chrystie, age 30, complained of pain and was admitted to the hospital (in March 2007 in Atlantic City, NJ) with a diagnosis of diverticulitis. She spent several months in and out of the hospital and wound up on intravenous antibiotics self-administered at home for weeks. By September, she was back in the hospital in severe pain again when they decided to do a colonoscopy and realized there was a huge tumor just inches in her colon. (This was after she was told she had ovarian cancer).

She underwent surgery, which was terminated quickly when the surgeon discovered the tumor was wrapped around an artery. He indicated she would not survive the removal of the tumor because she would have bled to death. She was released from the hospital a month later.

I moved her to upstate New York for treatment closer to us (her parents). She was admitted to the hospital within weeks (in November 2007) as she was filling up with pus. This surgery left her open from her breastbone to her public bone and on a wound vac for weeks. She commenced chemo in January 2008 through May. She had another surgery scheduled in June but that too was unsuccessful.

Then, she started radiation.

By October 2008 she was back in the hospital with the infection eating through her skin. We were told at this point there was nothing else they could do: She was sent home on a pain pump.

She passed away, nine weeks later at home. She was on hospice those last nine weeks, which turned out to be a joke. This was a girl who graduated high school with a perfect attendance medal. She was born on the luckiest day of the 20th century, 7/7/77. She passed 12/19/08. My Chrystie was a happy girl – always smiling, right to the end.