We are three days into the new school year, if you don’t count yesterday. He didn’t go to school due to Rosh Hashana. We are already starting to see a change in his personality from the laid back, happy 14 year old that hung out with his friends all summer to a sullen, brooding, depressed teen.

Because of a class.

ONE CLASS.

He entered his freshman year of high school (I can’t believe my baby is in high school). Which, as we all know, is way, WAY different from elementary and middle schools. Especially in a school as heavily populated as the one he attends. It’s not as sheltered or nurturing. There are classes mixed with all grades. The puppies are thrown in with the lions.

He is beyond miserable because of this. BEYOND.

It’s his Spanish class. There are mostly seniors. For a shy, insecure 9th grader, this is the worst possible case scenario. Especially when he has been told how horrible seniors are. It’s causing him to be a nervous, unhappy wreck.

I had thought he matured over the summer. The way he acted, I thought we were going to be over his typical school year angst and moodiness. I hoped beyond hope.

It seems that we aren’t and this year, he started early. Sleep already isn’t coming easily for either of us. Worrying doesn’t make for good sleeping.

I’ve already contacted his counselor via email and voicemail. I’m hoping she gets back to me immediately. But one troubled freshman might be the least of their concerns. One of my biggest concerns, something so important and dire to me, in a school of this size, it probably a insignificant fleck on their radar.

I’m hoping I’m wrong.

I hope we are able to nip this particular and easily remedied problem in the proverbial bud. Although, with him, I’m sure there are more to come.

High school isn’t a time to mess around. There isn’t room to get turned off due to frustration. These next four years count, big time! I don’t know how to reach him, to make him understand. I don’t know anyone who has ever been able to reach him and make an impact, except the school Social Worker that spoke with him last year.

I think there is only so much that I can and should do for him, now that he is in high school. The babying and coddling and perhaps, enabling, should be at a minimum. Even though my heart wants to wrap itself around him and protect him.

I set the ball in motion by contacting the counselor. Hopefully she’ll call him to the office. I am thinking of calling the social worker who I believe is also at the high school.

What else? What more?

He is 14.

When will he grow out of this?

I don’t think I can stand another four years of this.

There is an article in the September edition called “Would You Do This To Your Vagina?” that absolutely cracked me up. It was all about Vajazzling your vajayjay, bush hairstyles, crotch fitness, labia lipstick and accessories to make your vagina all pretty during your period, like that could ever happen.

I just think it would be funny if, say, after your partner was done orally delighting you, instead of a glazed donut, they were wearing your vajazzled as a mustache.

PantyO. Kegel exercise underwear. Because THAT sounds really comfy. Better than a wedgie. Or camel toes. There is a 1 inch extension that you insert into your vag. ALL DAY LONG, you have this 1 inch thing shoved up your crotch. If it vibrated and had external stimulation, maybe that would make the whole thing more attractive. Otherwise, it just sounds REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE for $125! No thank you. I’ll get my kegel exercise the old fashioned way. Twice a week. And I don’t leak when I sneeze. Thank you.

My New Pink Button. Temporary dye. For your labia. WHY? I’m not a porn queen. I’ve given birth 3 times. I’ve been having sex with the same man for years. I could give a rats ass what the color of my labia is. I don’t think my husband cares either, as long as I’m giving him bj’s. Unless there were some oozing sores that were the cause of this discoloration. Then there would be a completely different type of discussion going on.

The new Brazilian? Let the bush grow. Wild. Maybe add some dreadlocks. Or Bo Derek corn rows.

The accessories? Ridiculous. Pads that are hot pink leopard print by Pantzies. And Cuchini makes pads that won’t stick to your newfound wild bush. Personally, I’m sticking to the winged pads. A mess is a mess. Whether they are pretty pads that won’t pull out the pubes or not.

People have way too much time on their hands, inventing some of the most unnecessary ridiculosity.

Stay tuned for the discussion regarding the article about the girl who married her stepbrother. Right after I finish vajazzling and applying applying vag blush.

It also is the beginning of the Jewish New Year…Rosh Hashana.

This week, so much is new.

My oldest two started high school. 9th graders. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I am old enough for my children to be that old.

My middle two started a new middle school. With the redistricting, they were moved from one middle school to another.

My youngest started 1st grade at a new school in a different district than his siblings today. He carried on this morning like his lungs were being ripped out through his nostrils. Seriously. A true Academy Award winning performance.

This new school year is the first year since the restructuring of our school district and it should prove to be interesting. Larger class sizes and less classroom help. I’m hoping for the best, both on the school’s part and my children. Trying their best from the best we can offer them. It will have to be enough.

Everyone is gone. My house is quiet. The laundry is all caught up. It’s neat, for a few moments.

I have a chance to think, to breathe, to reflect, to plan. For the next few days, months but also, for the year. To look ahead and see exactly what I want, mark a path and not be afraid to follow it, one foot in front of the other.

So, with this new year upon us. Both school and Jewish…

I wish everyone, all my friends and their families, peace, sweetness and all good things. May this year be smooth, free of obstacles and hurdles, on your journey to whatever and wherever you want it to go.

Happy New Year…
and have a happy new year.

I mean…just read this excerpt…
For additional information, check our Customer Service and Support.
For information about your device click (here)
The terms of your service are included in your Wireless Service Agreement, Terms of Service and any rate plan/features brochures you may have recieved. To access AT&T’s current service terms, click (here).
And thanks again for choosing AT&T.
Sincerely,
AT&T

If that’s not caring, I beg you to tell me what is. Sigh.

I’d like to take a moment to respond…

Dear AT&T,
Thanks so much for the lovely email. So very kind. Warm fuzzies, I tell ya.

I’m sure you learned that i before e except after c is NOT always the case. I mean, any damn fool knows that. Students learn this rule in elementary school, along with the fact that a lot is NOT one word.
Either your spellchecker doesn’t work or your checker can’t spell.

Regardless, I’m surprised this hasn’t been caught and taken care of, especially in a company as big as AT&T(apparently size doesn’t matter).

We pay good money for our phones and our overages, and NOW…our UVerse, which, in turn, goes into the pockets of your employees I’m sure.

My next bulk email from you, I expect the spelling error to be corrected and for the idiot who wrote the email to write “received” 1000 times on the blackboard in my husbands classroom.

Thanks again,
Your Loyal and Much Better Speller AT&T Customer

P.S. Your coverage sucks but I like the iPhone better than the Droid so I’m stuck with ya.

Him: (Typical greetings, salutations and introductions but we will call him Tim) I’m calling on behalf of (something or another) Pro-life group. I have four questions to ask you, if you don’t mind.

Me: (Laughing, because I was thinking about the four questions from Passover, which doesn’t occur until the Spring) Um…(Ma nishtana ha-laila ha-zeh mi-kol ha-lelot? why is this night different from all others)

Tim: (In a typical telemarketer annoying way that completely disregards vocal intonations trying to dismiss the call in a polite way) In a general type election, would you vote Democratic, Republican or Independent?

Me: (I decide to go along with this survey) Whoever is cute. (Yes, I seriously said that. I decided to fuck with him a little)

Tim: Do you vote?

Me: Sometimes, depending on how long the lines are.

Tim: Do you consider yourself Pro-Life?

Me: (exclaiming passionately because I am passionately pro-choice) Hell no! I’m pro, pro, pro, pro, PRO-CHOICE. All the way. Without any doubt or second thought. Because no one on this planet has any right to tell me what I can and can not do to my body. NO ONE.

Tim: (clearing his throat and sounding a little uncomfortable) I guess we are done here then.

Me: We were done before we started.

I hang up before him. Annoyed.

Pro-life.

NEVER.

No offense to anyone who is Pro-Life but that is were we STRONGLY disagree. Forever.

But now? I’m kind of wondering what the fourth question was. I’m guessing it wasn’t “She-be-chol ha-lelot anu ochlin bayn yoshvin u-vayn mseubin, ha-laila ha-zeh kelanu mesubin?”
Why is it that on all other nights we eat either sitting or reclining, but on this night we eat in a reclining position? (translation for all of my non-Jewish friends)

Hi.

Once upon a time, I was a divorced mom too. Let’s hear it for unburdening the baggage. Woot.

I was leg over ears for a couple of men back then. But, I would always put my love games on pause if my kids called.

Sometimes though, I was just flat out sleeping.

But, I always had a phone next to my ear, even if my legs were there too.

My kids were much younger at the time so, it was usually their father who called me but that’s neither here nor there.

Now?

I’m remarried but I still keep a phone by my, on me, near me. On vibrate AND on the loudest ring. You never can be too sure.

I hardly, if ever, miss a phone call or a text from my kids.

The point is…

Your child called you last night.

There was no answer.

He was safe though.

He slept here.

Just thought you should know.

Signed,

A Sanctimonious Mom

**********************************************************************************

To Whom It May Concern,

I wish I didn’t have to capitalize the greeting because there is no respect being put into this letter.

Cutting your teachers salaries sucked. I’m not going to speak for all the other teachers because maybe, perhaps, they are all wealthy trust fund babies…

But…

You have put our family into dire straights. Our entire life as we knew it has been altered. Alternate arrangements for things we took for granted are going to have to be made.

Teachers who give their all to try to make better human beings through education have been fist fucked. Yeah, I swore. I’m pissed.

Teachers who produce teachers, doctors, lawyers, SUPERINTENDENTS, ADMINISTRATORS, actors…EVERYTHING and ANYTHING that make this world go round…

are the least respected of all the professions.

Without them, there wouldn’t be YOU.

What a nice way of saying thanks.

Signed,

AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON

OK. Here…

The Metro Detroit area is swarming with movie stars because we are becoming quite the new Hollywood dontchya know, with movies and television series being filmed all over the place. Hugh Jackman and his children. David Arquette and Courtney Cox. Miley Cyrus. Gerard Butler. Ray Liota. Just to name a few of the big ones. I know there are more, I’m just not up on ALL the celebrity gossip, I mean sheesh…I have laundry to do and mouths to feed and tweets to tweet or twat or whatever…you know.

The thing that is starting to bug me is…

EVERYONE. And I mean EVERYONE. Has been seeing all these stars out and about. Dinners, the park, picking their kids up from camp, bars…

EVERYWHERE.

I was getting my nails done and listening to some girl talk about the fact that the movie being made with Gerard Butler is being filmed in her house. So she’s met him. Like…MET him. He has sat on her couch. AND her toilet. She could make a fortune on eBay with the sale of a toilet seat shat on by Gerard Butler.

People are having BBQ’s with Hugh and his babes because they are neighbors. And their kids are playing together. He is swimming in their pools. WOLVERINE is SWIMMING in other people’s pools. I wonder if they will ever put chlorine in their pools again. I wouldn’t.

HELLOOOOO.

But me? Nope. Not a single one. No Hugh. No David and Courtney. No Miley. No nothin’ for me. Not even a BBQ hot dog to choke on.

But then again, it’s not like I’ve been going out on the town so much. We’ve been hanging out around the house a lot this summer. Poolside, thanks to scorching hot weather.

I saw more stars 10 years ago in Birmingham than I do now. Gabriel Byrne almost got his foot run over by my stroller and he said excuse me while I drooled and stuttered at him. I’m smooth like that.

And…I don’t want to brag but Keanu Reeves was checking me out at a bar in Birmingham. Or, it might have been the guy who was standing next to me.

Maybe now that it’s getting cooler out, I’ll put on my Mukluk boots, a Pashmina wrap, big glasses grab my camera and go hunt them down myself. But that would be too stalker-like. Which really, at this point, I might be OK with.

Or maybe Hugh or Gerard (I figure we can be on a first name basis, seeing as it’s my blog) will come across this blog post, feel sorry for this poor, middle aged Mom and I’ll get an invite to dinner. I’ll bring the wine. Perhaps a nice Late Harvest Riesling from our lovely Leelanau Peninsula? I have lots of that.

Or not.

Well, I could always just drink wine with my husband and make him talk with an Australian accent and a mask made from a cut out of Hugh Jackmans face. After a few glasses, I won’t know the difference anyways. So, it’ll ALMOST be like I met and got to hang out with one of our celebs.

ALMOST.

Or not.

OK, so obviously, I need to get out more.

Or wait!

Maybe I’ll clean up my yard first (maybe it was one of those snotty stars that left that note, you never know). Then, I’ll follow them on Twitter(I don’t follow movies stars on Twitter but I may have to make a couple exceptions considering) and send them a Twitter e-vite to a BBQ at my house!

Disclaimer: Just in case any of you movie star types in the area stumble across my blog because I totally know you have google alerts, I’m COMPLETELY joking about the stalker type behavior. But, if you want to come and hang out at my house and drink wine, I’m totally cool with that. Don’t mind the hidden cameras in the bathroom and stuff…

For our first prompt, I chose to have anyone interested write about someone who is pretending to be someone or something he or she is not. It can be a short story, a poem, essay form…whatever. And, that can be taken in many different ways. It will be fun to read the entries. If anyone else is interested in writing, leave your link in the comment section so we can check it out!

I’m doing a short story…of course.
**********************************************************************************

She lay in bed gently rubbing her belly. The baby responded by kicking back. She smiled into the darkness.

She was happy.

Life was exactly how she imagined it would be. Fancy cars, big diamonds, designer clothing, a handsome and doting husband. She knew she was envied and that pleased her. The geeky girl that cleaned up well.

Her husband was snoring softly. She couldn’t sleep, her mind was racing. She was running a list in her mind of all the things still needed to be purchased for the arrival of their baby. Their daughter.

Her thoughts turned to this evening and she sighed contentedly. Their three year anniversary. A delicious dinner at a 5-star restaurant with beautiful diamond watches exchanged followed by lovemaking that was as heated as it could be considering her due date was only three weeks away.

They were so in love. She thought that anyone who noticed them could see it, they emanated it. Their auras even intertwined. They were one.

She couldn’t believe her luck. He was the perfect man and he loved her. HER. The dorky, awkward, gangly girl who stuttered over her own words and tripped over her own feet.

High school was traumatic. College was worse. But then she got her first real job as a nurse in the hospital. She began to slowly come out of her shell and make friends. Friends who saw the potential in her looks and took her shopping and got her make up done.

She emerged from her chrysalis a smoking hot butterfly.

Soon, every single doctor…and not so single…pursued her. Asking her out or just trying to tap that.

She wore confidence like a mink stole. She was it and she knew it.

Then, a new doctor began working in the ER. He noticed her, just like every other doctor did.

This time, she paid attention.

Body fluids were exchanged before phone numbers.

Eventually, they began going to dinner, coffee, bowling…BEFORE ending up rolling around in the bed, on the floor, in the car. Conversations were intense. She had never had so much in common with another person, despite the fact that he listened more than he spoke. He kept a lot inside, and she was fine with that. She could talk enough for the both of them. But, they agreed on the important things and to her, that was what really mattered.

6 months later, they were engaged.

Someone wonderful loved her and wanted to marry her. She said yes. And they ran off to Vegas.

Now here they were. Married three wonderful, happy years. With many more to come.

Everyone liked her husband. Except her mother, who thought there was “something” about him. She didn’t want to hear about it from her mom, who had been divorced and remarried more times than she remembered. If there was “something” about anyone, it was her mom.

She still couldn’t sleep so she decided to check her email. Grabbing her laptop from next to her bed, she placed it on top of her tummy table.

Typical spam and chain emails were the bulk of what was waiting for her in her inbox. An unfamiliar email address from the hospital they worked at was there with IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ in the RE: line.

So, she did.

It said:

Dear Ellie,
Click on this link. (link) I think you will find this very interesting.
Oh, and happy anniversary.

Lila Steward

How sweet, she thought and she clicked on the link.

It took a minute for the scene on her screen to register. For her eyes to focus.

She watched in horror, the whole five minute film of her husband having sex with two women. She watched as one woman was giving her husband a blow job while the other one was gyrating on his face. On the desk in his office that they had picked out together.

She felt sick. The baby did a somersault in response.

She noticed other videos by the same account holder and she clicked on them.

They were all of her husband. Having sex with other women. The videos were all dated over the course of the past year. And she watched all of them. Feeling more nauseous the longer she watched.

Why the hell was she doing this to herself? Watching this train wreck.

No, she was obviously the train wreck.

She slammed the top down on the laptop and rolled over onto her side. Tears silently falling, her pillow growing wet.

She cried for how ignorant her husband must think she is.

She mourned the loss of the wonderful life she thought she had.

She sobbed because her mother really was right.

And then, she sat up. Determined. She opened her computer. And she erased the email.

She would continue living this life, this facade. She would never let her husband know what she had found out. She would continue letting him believe her ignorance.

For the sake of her unborn daughter.

For the sake of the geeky girl she once was.

But that is where I am right now.

I’m questioning why. And if. And how.

Angry.

Resentful.

Shocked.

At everything life is throwing at us.

I’m playing “C’mon Get Happy” in my head, over and over. I’m really trying to shake this.

It’s not working right now.

I can’t stand feeling like a businessman stumbling out of Happy Hour.

Out of control.

I have no control over anything in my life.

Not a fricking thing.

Time.

My kids.

Money.

My house.

My life.

There is nothing.

I feel useless.

And insignificant.

And completely unnecessary.

I’m a practical joke.

I can’t stand this feeling.

This anxiety.

This sadness.

I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s familiar but I only knew it from a distance before.

It’s arms are wrapped tightly around me, talons piercing.

I can barely catch my breath.

I can barely keep the tears from welling up.

I can barely keep from screaming.

Just barely.

I want to claw, punch, kick and scream WHY! WHY!! WHY??

But I swallow it down with a sip of coffee.

I’m spoiled.

Petulant.

Wanting more from MY life than it seems to want to give to me. And I don’t know how to change it.

Wanting more from someone that someone is willing to do.

Wanting.

Sick of bad decisions.

Tired of actions taken before thoughts.

Sick of nothing being done.

TIRED.

Worried.

Overwhelmed.

In a dark place.

As many of you know, I lost a friend of mine to this horrible and violent predator back in July, after a courageous 5 year battle. Because that’s what it is when cancer attacks…a battle.

Last year, Lori guest posted on my blog and in honor of her memory and of Ovarian Cancer Awareness, I’d like to repost in its entirety…

Lori…this is for you.

**************************************************

a big hello to all of “melissas” readers!

ok….first of all….ive known “melissa” since junior high or high school…..and she was MISSY back then. and to me…she still is! yeah…we met when we were in a gym class together. i dont think you could have found two more people as “gym defective” as us. we haaaated gym! i cant believe i didnt fail. either way…..we made it thru. we even paired up to do a required aerobic routine. im sure we sucked, but im also fairly certain that we at least looked cute in our 80′s leg warmers/leotard/headband gear. as another side note….i was the “good girl” to missys “bad girl”, and i was the only friend that her parents liked her to go out with. they were smart. i was pretty goody-goody. (but for the record…i wasnt boring!)

anyway….i feel like a pseudo-celeb; in having the honor to be a guest on missys blog! and i wasnt a cordial guest either. i actually invited myself. but in all seriousness….im completely blown away by missys blog, and her writitng skills. not only does she have the most perfect skin in the world, but shes got such a talent when it comes to expressing her thoughts. so yes…i really DO feel it is an honor to be here. i have a blog too. it’s called lori-ments
check it out! tho i do have to admit…im kind of a “blog idiot”. i have NO clue what missy is talking about with all of the politics, and small fish vs big fish bloggers, etc. all i know…is that i write…and i really dont care if anyone even reads it. except for this post. because what i have to say is important, and affects the same genre of people who read missys blog. so here it goes.

september is ovarian cancer awareness month. i have stage 4 ovarian cancer. and the reason why my story is important; is because in a lot of ways….im the case of someone who isnt at risk for this, and at the same time; i absolutely am.

i was 36 when i was diagnosed. not the age when most people get ovarian cancer. i was also pregnant. and with all of the ultrasounds….cancer never showed up. after i had my beautiful baby boy….i knew something wrong. i felt a weird pressure low in my abdomen. and when i would breathe in…i felt a pressure in my ribs. i demanded urinary infection tests. i asked for a pap smear. i had an ultrasound. i was told, that basically i just had a baby, and of course i have pressures. but i knew. i cant tell you exactly how i knew…but i just did. i specifically remember saying to my mom, “i know they tell me this is normal…but im telling you…..something is wrong!” i dont blame my doctor. he did every test i asked for. his logic made sense. i did just have an 8 1/2 pound baby. it does take a toll on the body. he had no reason to suspect cancer. until the pap smear came back and it was positive. still…ovarian cancer wasnt a suspicion. statistics show that ovarian cancer doesnt show up on pap smears. its usually cervical which shows up on paps. its usually pre-cancerous, and its usually very treatable if caught early. i had a cat scan. it came back clear. everyone was a little baffled. there is a simple blood test called a ca-125. if its elevated, it could be a sign of cancer. normal is 35 and under. mine was 350. i went in for surgery, and they found cancer spread all over. i was debulked, with the majority of the cancer being in my diaphragm. that is what was causing the pressure when i breathed in deeply. needless to say…when i woke up from the very long surgery….i was in shock. my family was in shock. we were all devastated. and i had an 8 week old baby waiting for his mommie at home.

with all of the reasons to believe i wasnt a candidate for cancer, there was one really good reason why i was. heredity! i always knew my family background of cancer; as many of my relatives succumbed to the disease. my aunt was only 30 when she lost her fight with breast cancer. knowing this history, i was very proactive in my health care. i fought with doctors and health insurance companies to get mammograms starting at age 30. they didnt see the need for this until i was 40. instead of being praised for being aggressive with my desire to stay healthy; i was berated. i still insisted on it tho. and i point this out, because YOU should be your own advocate for YOUR health, and not rely on doctors and insurance companies alone. regardless of the fancy degrees…they DO NOT know everything! trust YOUR instincts! and please….dont even get me started on the insurance companies!!!!

i didnt know about this until after the after the whole ordeal; but there is a certain genetic mutation which puts a person at a higher risk of breast and/or ovarian cancer. its called the BRCA mutation. ashkenazi jews are especially at risk, tho i know many non-jews who have the gene too. this mutation puts women at risk of getting breast cancer by the age of 70; up to 87%, and the risk of ovarian cancer up to 44%. i tested positive for the BRCA1 mutation. we were so happy when my mother tested negative, as it affects women more than men. but it DOES affect men, and lo and behold….just a few months ago; my father was diagnosed with a rare cancer; most likely due to his BRCA1+ status. i do not suggest that everybody panic and run out to get genetic testing tomorrow…BUT…i DO want you to be AWARE of it and have knowledge about it. not to sound cliche…but knowledge truly IS power.

its 4 1/2 years later, and im still in treatment. ive been in some sort of treatment since the beginning; but i dont complain. medicine is changing DAILY. and because of my BRCA+ status, there are different drugs to use, and there are more on the way. im here! i still have a long road ahead of me, but i intend on continuing down that road. it hasnt always been easy. at the same time, ive been fortunate to be ale to live a normal life. my family is amazing. my husband is literally my anchor. my friends give me the utmost support. and my son, who is the absolute center of my whole being…. is now 4 1/2. i wasnt sure id be around to watch him crawl…let alone all of the joyous things we have since shared. of course its not enough. i have a lot more i need to experience with him!

i feel that it is my duty to educate women about this topic. therefore, i am including this info. please take the time to read it.

any friend of missys is a friend of mine. therefore…i end this post by telling you, that as my “friend”, i wish you all happiness, love and health!

September is
National Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month

The color of ovarian cancer is teal.
Though it has been called the “silent cancer”, it really isn’t, being as there are a number of symptoms. many times, the symptoms are vague enough to be misdiagnosed, as there are MANY reasons why a woman can have any of these symptoms.

The following are the symptoms:
Bloating
Pelvic or abdominal pain
Difficulty eating or feeling full quickly
Urinary symptoms (urgency or frequency)

Additional symptoms may include fatigue, indigestion, back pain, pain with intercourse, constipation or diarrhea and menstrual irregularities, although these symptoms are found equally in women without the disease.

See your doctor, preferably a gynecologist, if you have these symptoms almost daily for more than a few weeks. Experts suggest a combination pelvic/rectal exam, a transvaginal ultrasound and a CA-125 blood test.

The Risks
Women OF ANY age are at risk
increasing age raises risk
personal or family history of breast, colon, or ovarian cancer
Never been pregnant or given birth

The Facts
Occurs in 1 in 69 women
Early detection improves survival rates
There is no test. A Pap smear ONLY detects cervical cancer.
Causes symptoms even in early stages

According to the American Cancer Society, 22,000 women will be diagnosed in the next year, and 15,000 of them will die. That statistic has not changed in 30 years since the American Cancer Society declared war on cancer.
This is why it is so very important to reach as many women as we can to educate them and make them aware of this deadly disease.

for more info: the website of the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance
www.ovariancancer.org