Celebrating our friend Carrie. She's the one with the killer smile in the middle.
I was added to a Surviving Together Facebook group when I was first diagnosed... I didn't think much of it at the time. It was a small group, probably less than 100 ladies. I didn't know anyone personally who was part of the group. But, the more I began to creep on their group page, I realized these ladies 'got it' in a way no one else could understand. We offered encouragement, advice, and prayers. Once I moved back to Joplin, I would even join the ladies for lunch or meet ups. The instant acceptance of these women was amazing.
One girl had a smile that I will never forget. Carrie was stage 4. She was a few years younger than me and had 2 small children, one Mason's age. We were diagnosed around the same time. While I didn't get to spend a lot of time with her, she made me feel like I was a cherished friend. She loved big and loved hard.
She finished her treatment from breast cancer and days later had a seizure. The cancer had spread to her brain. She had brain surgery, and still displayed that amazing smile and attitude despite the complications. The cancer continued to spread. And Carrie continued to balance the fight with living her life fully.
The last time I saw Carrie, we went and saw the movie The Shack. I remember that movie touched me, but I couldn't help but wonder how that movie touched her, given the hard battle she was continuing to fight, being Stage 4. I had to rush out of the movie to pick my son up from school, so I never got to talk to her about that... Oh, how I wish I would have followed up that movie with a coffee date...
A week ago, Carrie shared that she was out of options and was being put on hospice. I knew she was inundated with calls and messages, so I thought I would wait a week or so and message her to let her know how she touched my life and offer her some insignificant, blubbering words of encouragement. When I would see her, I would often share "Hey, at least I'm not Carrie Couch." It was my way of acknowledging that her battle was hard. She always laughed when I would point that out. It feels good to have our struggles acknowledged. And with this group of ladies, you could get away with that kind of humor, because when you are dealing with something as serious as cancer, it feels good to laugh -- no matter how inappropriate. I was figuring out a way to tell her she was taking this "at least I'm not Carrie Couch thing too far". Days after sharing she was out of options, Carrie passed away. She leaves behind a husband, two young boys, and a lot of friends -- because Carrie made everyone feel like a friend. I'm heartbroken I'll never get to tell her thank you for welcoming me with open arms and her big beautiful smile. I'm heartbroken for those who were close to her -- while she was fighting her own stage 4 fire, she took time to pour buckets of encouragement into others. I'm heartbroken for her 2 boys who will only remember their mother by the stories people tell. She was an amazing person and taken way too soon. She was an angel to a lot of here on Earth, and now I know she is an angel in Heaven. God must have needed her, but man, it hurts to see her go. This world needs more people like Carrie Couch.
Carrie's service is today. I can't be there, but I'm there in spirit. I'm crying as I type this -- Life is so unfair. But you'd never hear Carrie say that. She would say God is good, all the time.
I was feeling very stoic today until a close friend of Carrie's posted "5 more minutes". I knew exactly what she meant...
Today I had to pleasure of sharing my story with a human sexuality class. I teach online, so anytime I can get in the classroom, it always makes me feel more connected to my work. Since I moved away from one of my schools, I got to visit with the class via Skype. I'm always grateful to share my story. As prep, I read through some of my blogs. It's always an emotional journey to revisit those. Mainly, it makes me feel thankful for the support I had during that time.
One student had a question about if I changed my diet since my diagnosis and it dawned on me that I haven't really shared much of that on my blog. The answer is a resounding YES! About 11 months ago, I stumbled upon the ketogenic way of eating. I'm cautious to call it a diet, because it really should be a lifestyle change. Diet sounds like a temporary fix, this is something for the long haul for better health.
I'd love to say that I was disciplined enough and started the ketogenic way of eating for better health. That would be a lie. Truth: I was uncomfortable and my fat pants barely fit. But, as I researched the keto eating plan, there was a lot of evidence that sugar feeds cancer - and by eliminating sugar, we can help manage cancer risks. So, while I started for completely vain reasons, I'm continuing because I feel great and it's just one more tool in my cancer fighting tool box. I lost about 20 pounds the first 4-5 months. The last 6 months I've been in maintenance mode, which means I am following the general ketogenic ideas, but I'm far from perfect. Progress, not perfection is my motto.
A ketogenic diet basically is extremely low carb, moderate protein and high fat. Lots of people have asked me to share my plan, so I created an instagram that shares a lot of my meals and progress. If you are interested, follow me on Instagram at @learning2lowcarb.
Aside from the 20 pounds weightloss, I've had tremendous success in other areas. Now that my mind isn't consumed with food every 3 hours due to a carb crash, I have so much more time to devote to other things. I also have much more stamina (both in workouts and everyday life), as my body has learned to use it's own fat for fuel. The hot flashes are greatly reduced in frequency and intensity. Several other estrogen related issues have improved as well.
Full disclosure: I did ask my oncologist about this diet and he wasn't sold on the idea that it would protect me from a reoccurrence. I think the research is new and inconclusive as far as medical standards go. But, I think it's promising. So, I want to be clear and say that it isn't something he prescribed. He did say it wouldn't harm me to try, so if it was working for me, he saw no harm.
Keto on!! If you have questions, hit me up. I'm happy to share what knowledge I have. Or recipes. Or on how to stay regular with all that cheese.
Hi everyone! I don't write often... which is PROGRESS! I don't think about cancer everyday unless I am seeing where my hair is a bit thinner than it was prior to cancer or noticing how cold my breasts are since there is no fat to insulate them. In fact, I go weeks without actively thinking about it. And then BAM! The anxiety monster shows up and I have to walk myself down from a full on panic attack. This happened yesterday. Now that I am back of sane mind, I suspect the four cups of coffee I had contributed to the anxiety. And while it was somewhat self induced, it doesn't make the attack itself less real. I belong to a lovely group of Survivor Sisters and it's amazing how they can echo your feelings and walk you off of that cliff that pops up out of no where.
That 'cancer cliff' can come out of no where. I'm 3 years out from my diagnosis. I've taken every step possible to protect myself. I've had the surgeries. I did the harsh chemo. I've stopped all hormones. I eat a very low sugar diet. I live a healthy lifestyle. I am extremely lucky that my cancer wasn't in my lymph nodes and I caught it relatively early. And still occasionally, the fear creeps in and nearly paralyzes me. The tears start to flow. The thought of putting my body and my family through all of it again is too much to take. I get short of breath. My heart is pounding. I'm a counselor, so I know those feelings are scary but they are just feelings and it's important to just feel the feelings. But, it's uncomfortable. And it's unplanned and inconvenient. And for that hour it is really scary.
Let me share something with you... As cancer survivors we get special treatment. If you were to tell your doctor you had headaches, you might be told to take some ibuprofen. If I told my doctor I had a headache, he'd probably draw some blood, check tumor markers, do a complete exam checking for any lump, and may order a costly scan "just to be sure." Initially, I might attribute the headache to stress... But, if it persists, it's scary because there is always the underlying "What if it is back?" So physically, we are well cared for.
I had an amazing team of doctors. And not one of them have addressed the mental aspects of cancer. I'm not faulting them, it's out of their scope, I suppose. But it's a very real need that presents itself long after the cancer is treated and in remission.
Hey gang. I haven't checked in for a bit... Truth: I don't think about breast cancer everyday anymore (yay!) so honestly I don't have a ton to write about on this blog.
I did want to share that yesterday, we lost one of our pink sisters. I'm on a Facebook group with about 130 local survivors. It's a place where we can ask questions that likely wouldn't be acceptable anywhere else. We talk about our cancer's, our reconstruction, our funny stories, ask questions, post word of encouragement or prayers, spread the word about local fundraising efforts, etc.
We hate when new members are added. We know how hard the battle is, and how much the start of the battle takes. Even worse, is when we lose a member. It's sobering to think "that could have been me." We lost a member on Christmas Eve. I'd never met her in person, but she was active in the group and was extremely encouraging and had a gorgeous smile. She was 39 years old. Her young kids, around Mason's age, will forever have a cloud over Christmas Eve because while everyone is celebrating the holiday, they will be thinking of the mother that they lost. No doubt in her final days, she was worrying about how her family was going to make it without her. There is a husband who has to figure out how to do life as a single dad. He has to figure out how to mourn his wife's death and still hold it together enough to be a strong support for their kids. I cannot even wrap my head around the weight they must be feeling. I take comfort in knowing she's not in pain any more, and that if you are going to Heaven, I'd say Christmas is a great time up there! But, for those on Earth, it's heart wrenching to think what they are going through.
When we hear of this news, we think about friends who are still battling. We think about our own lives and how our families would be without us. We get a big lump in our throats, say a prayer for our friend's family, one for our own, then we choke back the tears and move on... Because that's all we can do.
I just celebrated my 2 year cancer-versary. In some ways it seems like forever ago that I got the call. In other ways, I am reminded that just 2 years ago we were fighting for my life. It was an absolutely whirl-wind.
To celebrate my 2 year cancer-versary, I took my newly curly/wavy hair and tried to put it in a ponytail. It's small and requires a few bobby pins, but it's there! No victory, either in cancer or life in general, is too small to let pass by without a little mental celebration.
The very next day, I opened up a package from my sister that came in the mail. I took out a sturdy, silver bracelet. I got all teary eyed and smiley, because I had seen them before, but didn't know if it was a legit product. It's a small piece of jewelry that tells a big story. Plus, it's from my Gill. Thanks Jill, such a thoughtful surprise!
It's a bracelet designed for holding a pony tail holder. A small gesture that means so much!
Also, since moving to Joplin, I've been able to connect with some fantastic women from our Surviving Together Facebook group. Within 5 minutes of meeting these gals face to face, I felt at home. They get it. Looking forward to getting to know these gals better. There is an instant connection.
My Survivor Sisters supporting our pink sister Carrie at her chemo appointment.
Lastly, I've been feeling under the weather. I thought I've been dealing with allergies, turned out it is a wicked case of pneumonia. Something Survivors, and all women in general, tend to do is tough it out. I toughed it out too long and a simple cold turned into pneumonia. Ladies, take care of yo' self! Since I've been laying low, I've been doing a little crafting to surprise my new friends with... Glitter seems to make everything, even sick days, a little better.
So much to be thankful for. I think this will be a great Christmas reminder of all He has helped us overcome.
My friend, JB called me moths ago to ask about my surgeon. While I was happy to pass on Dr. B's name (I have 100% confidence in Dr. Buchner and his staff), my heart sank. While I had no way of knowing the outcome of her situation, I did know what hearing the words "there's a mass" does to you. Initially, it makes you all hot. Dizzy and nauseous. It makes everyone's voice sound like Charlie Brown's teacher. It changes you... Because even if it's nothing, it makes you realize it could have been something.
Today, JB and I met for breakfast. She had a mass removed and was waiting on pathology results. And, while nothing can really make the waiting game any easier, some cinnamon chip pancakes can't hurt.
We sat down and I knew that look on her face. The smiling-to-keep-from-crying look. The exhausted-haven't-slept and keep-running-through-the-possibilities-in-my-head look. The trying-not-to-show-my-crazy look. She shared a bit about her appointments and her procedure and I can't help but be taken back to when I was in that situation. There were lots of similarities and I hated that she was stuck in the dreadful holding pattern. I prayed that her outcome would be different, but I know that while prayers are nice, it doesn't make the waiting easier.
Here's the thing... the waiting is the same for everyone in that situation. Those days spent waiting for that phone call are the same, no matter what the outcome is. It's intense, exhausting and pretty much way worse than any sort of procedure. Let's be honest, the pain. Des after a procedure are nice, but what would be even better if they could give you something to deal with the agony of waiting for the results.
After breakfast, JB called to get the results. BENIGN! And while that was great to hear, I know that doesn't negate the mental and emotional assault she's been under the past week.
Worry about nothing, pray about everything (Philippians 4:6) comes to mind. And while ideally that may quiet our heart, I know it doesn't always quiet the mind during a crisis.
It's been awhile since I have written, so I thought I would check in. Truth is, life is still full of ups and downs. And while those ups and downs keep me busy, I've got to admit, they are minimal compared to what the ups and downs were last year around this time.
Still blessed. Still feeling strong. Trying hard to hold on to the perspective change that a cancer diagnosis brought. While we want our normal back, the truth is I don't want all of my normal back. I love the perspective we gained during our struggle: that most things in life don't matter. That disappointment is relative. Hardship is relative. Every single day we feel healthy is an absolute gift.
Honestly, as time passes, I find that perspective of just being grateful for the simple things is waning. The high of beating cancer doesn't feel as triumphant any more. I miss that high.
So, I'm searching. I'm working on weeding out things in my life that don't draw me closer to that high... That includes time spent on social media and honestly, some friendships. I'm trying to invest more in things that make me feel good: spending time in the morning with a devotional and reading the Word. Loving the sound of Mason singing the Star Wars theme from his room as I type this. Running. Being outside and feeling sunshine on my face. Being intentional about time with friends. Just being intentional. About anything. Work. Naps. Cleaning. Food. Coffee. Finding joy in being in the moment of whatever I am doing.
