The type of cancer Alicia Rosskelly has, is not found on Google even if you know how to spell it correctly.
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Mucinous adenocarcinoma is a rare form of appendix cancer that affects one in 500,000 people worldwide.
For nearly five years, she had annual cancer scans. After feeling like something was "not quite right", her worst fears were confirmed: the cancer was back for a second time.
In 2014 Miss Rosskelly was diagnosed with mucinous adenocarcinoma, a normally slow-growing form, for the first time.
She went to work with what she thought was just a normal cold and bit of pain. But, four hours later she found out her appendix had ruptured, and the cancer was found.
"I had problems since I was a teenager with iron and periods. I was also sick and ended up with a hernia in my belly button. I thought it was from stressing," she said.
Miss Rosskelly was just 24, and was told she wouldn't see her 30th birthday. She spent her 25th birthday in hospital and was given six months to live.
"They reckon it was in there from my early teenage years," she said.
"The surgeon that I had, had only seen my form of cancer once in her 30 years of being a surgeon."
I'm very grateful to be alive, but spewing that it's happening again.
- Alicia Rosskelly
While her annual check-ups were normally scheduled for November, last month Miss Rosskelly had an inkling that something wasn't right.
Less than six weeks later, the now 30-year-old is preparing for a minimum 10-hour surgery and months, possibly years, of recovery - for a second time.
"It's a mucus pocket in my abdomen this time. If you don't deal with it it will crush all of your organs. And whatever it is, it's growing faster," she said.
"From my scans in November until July it has grown pretty quickly ... which is terrifying."
Miss Rosskelly said her first 10-hour surgery nearly five years ago was described as "short", despite its complexity.
"They pretty much remove all your insides and while your abdominal cavity is empty, they flush a heap of chemotherapy around for two hours and then they scrape and burn disease off all of your organs," she said.
"They remove what they have to. But they wont know until they're in there. Last time I lost half my bowel and I was very lucky."
This time, she is preparing to possibly have her stomach and spleen removed, as well as a hysterectomy.
"They will remove every organ that I can live without if it's that bad," she said. "That comes with a whole set of problems, like being on antibiotics for the rest of your life if you lose your spleen. A hysterectomy, you can't have kids. That comes with a lot of emotions as well."
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After the surgery Miss Rosskelly will need to have a specialised chemotherapy treatment for five days, at Sydney's St George Hospital's intensive care unit.
"It's like a box inserted under your ribs and a needle goes in and flushes it all through," she said.
"It's so painful. It's intense, intense surgery. It's one of the most brutal in the world. There are only four surgeons in Australia that do it."
Her surgeon is Professor David Morris, who started doing peritonectomy surgeries in 1995. Once, he averaged about three a year. Now, it's not uncommon for him to do four a week.
"He's a wizard. And he'll fix it again," she said.
While the surgery was rough enough, last time everything that could go wrong, went wrong. An infection was closer to killing Miss Rosskelly than the cancer.
"I'm just hoping that there are no side effects this time and I'm in there for four weeks and then I can just come home to Tassie and recover. Last time I was in hospital for a very long time."
After finally coming home from hospital, Miss Rosskelly's mother moved in - becoming her full-time carer for more than 12 months.
"Life was horrible. I got a stomach bug that nearly killed me. Mum and I would spend hours in the toilet," she said. "She had to wipe my bum, she had to shower me. I was a baby all over again, but in excruciating pain. My body was not mine and I had no control over anything ... I'd just sit there and cry."
Miss Rosskelly had to learn how to walk, and how to eat again.
"It affected my family in a massive way. Everything was put on hold for me and then I felt guilty. I got quite suicidal because I felt like a burden to everyone because I couldn't do anything for myself. I just thought it would be easier not to exist," she said.
But, she doesn't feel like that anymore.
"I'm definitely going in stronger," she said. "I've got really good things put in place for afterwards, with hydrotherapy and dietitians and a really good team of people to help with the aftermath."
While willing to accept help this time around, Miss Rosskelly said it was the "unfortunate knowledge" of knowing what was involved that impacted her the most.
"It's different this time. I'm hopeful, but I'm aware. Last time I went in thinking that I knew what I was in for, but nothing could have prepared me for that. This time I'm not as naive," she said.
"I know what could happen. But I'm not dwelling on that as of yet. I've had a few meltdowns. I'm looking at it in realistic eyes."
Dealing with what she described as an "invisible illness", Miss Rosskelly said her everyday life had changed forever.
"People think I'm better," she said. "It's an invisible illness. Even things like having to use disabled toilets; people look at me weird when I come out.
"I'm still affected with my diet and losing half my bowel from the first time. I have iron transfusions and vitamin injections. I don't absorb things properly even if I'm eating right. I'm malnourished all the time. I feel like shit every day. I'm very grateful to be alive, but spewing that it's happening again. It has been a big struggle getting used to my normal."
Among living in constant pain, Miss Rosskelly never knows what each day is going to bring - whether it's physical or mental pain, and she has to constantly know where a bathroom is.
"Five years later, and I'm about to go through it all again."
As a promise to herself, and to those around her, Miss Rosskelly said she would embrace everyone's support this time around.
"I'm really trying to accept and not feel guilty about knowing people want to help rather than me trying to do it on my own," she said.
"I have a really hard time accepting people doing nice things to me. Even just someone cooking food for me and bringing it around.
"This time I've made a promise to myself that every beautiful thing that people are giving to me ... love, donations, food or cuddles. I have to promise myself that I'm deserving of it."
The support was overwhelming when two of her best friends, Ryan Limb and Alec McLelland, started a GoFundMe page.
So far more than $25,000 has been raised, of the $35,000 target.
But in classic form, the trio - who are heavily involved in Launceston's Party in the Paddock festival - have gone back to the roots of what they know best: putting on gigs.
"Basically because of our background, Leesh does all of the bookings for us at Vibestown, naturally everyone said 'well, we need to put on a gig'," Mr Limb said.
"The details will come out soon, but we're looking at doing a fundraiser later this month."
More than 10 bands, mainly local and possibly some from interstate, have committed to being involved. Miss Rosskelly hopes to attend, if all her appointments go well before the September surgery.
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Mr Limb said they'd love to have her there so she could see everyone before going to to Sydney.
"The event would be held over an afternoon and into the evening. I think it's the perfect thing to do for her before she has to go off and spend a month plus in hell.
"Raising $10,000 will get us to the $35,000 target which her and her mum will need to get her through the next 12 months."
Any additional funds raised will be donated, Miss Rosskelly said.
"At the end of recovery, whenever that might be, I will be donating additional funds to the peritonectomy unit at the St George Hospital in Kogarah," she said.
"The same staff are all there so at least that's comforting. They know what they're doing so I have confidence in them. They're incredible, and the team is amazing at what they do."
- For crisis support, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
- To donate, visit https://www.gofundme.com/f/aliciasfightforacancerfreelife