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.
