To my friend, Carmen Belcredi,
“…at the end, you take the lesson the life is trying to tell you. In my case it was that you can’t control everything. You need to let things happen. The other was that the road is unknown and unwritten.” Today would have been her 40th birthday. She passed away this past Thursday; just three days shy of that milestone so many women dread. For us it was a gift, a goal. We talked about having “bucket list” parties in Vegas to celebrate the big four-oh. I told her that was my dream next year and she said she wouldn’t miss it.
When I joined support groups two – and – a half years ago, I had an instant connection with Carmen. Although we were never able to meet in person, she has had a tremendous impact on my life. We compared stories of misdiagnosis and receiving such bleak news at such a young age. She shared with me that she was 16 when she first started having colon cancer symptoms. Both of her parents had colon cancer, yet her doctors brushed it off.
Her doctor said she could wait until 40 for a scope. She said “I try not to and have not let anger and upset go. It is what it is. I can’t go back.” She was only 36 when she was diagnosed, stage IV. We shared so many similarities. I was in my late teens when I first had symptoms also, and just like her I tried to get my doctors to listen, without avail. We were both 36 and stage IV when diagnosed. She was a mother to an eleven month old, I was a mom to a 6 month and 2 ½ year old.
We were both professional women, advocates, into holistic and integrative therapies alongside cutting edge medical technology. She was diagnosed almost exactly one year before I was, yet her progression of the disease went in a very different direction. Even if the cards were not stacked in her favor, she always had an exceptional drive to fight.
She had oncologists tell her, in her words, “They’ve never had a patient like me and that I really need to give myself credit for everything I have done and am doing. I think he was trying to tell me that most ( patients) are gone by now. He had tears in his eyes. It was very touching. We even hugged, lol.”
We also shared a very spiritual connection. We were both seeking answers as to “why” we were given this challenge in life. She shared with me that she was once approached by a healer. She said, “…I believe he knew he couldn’t heal me. We talked about why these things happen. What is the lesson? He whispered to me that the lesson is for others and not for me, and he looked sad.”
After this she found an inner peace that helped her cope with this disease she hated. She said, “It’s amazing how at peace you can feel amidst the storm of this diagnosis… I do think the universe sends you what you need. You just need to have your eyes and heart open to see and receive it.”
Carmen was the epitome of strength & beauty. I will miss her eloquence, compassion, brilliant mind, and source of comfort. I will miss her friendship. I will miss her texts telling me she was listening to the “mix tape” I sent her with the top down in her Porsche (which she encouraged me to buy… just saying!!) She was working to “…. start a non-profit that would provide access to alternative meds for those who can’t access or afford, and to fund clinical trials of natural meds.” With everything she was going through, she constantly thought of others and was always the first to message me the week of scans or tests.
She had a port infection and a severe reaction to the new chemo cocktail they came up with. It happened so fast. People like Rosa and Carmen don’t come along every day. Intelligent, enlightened and have beautiful, giving souls. They will be missed. Carmen had her tumor tested and it came back as compatible with. Breast cancer and Kinsey cancer drug. It all went downhill from there. If I’m ever faced with chemo again, I don’t think I’ll do it.
Over the past two years — we had become close, as people who are facing the same similar hard truths would. We bonded over children, the emotional hurt we feel when the thought of leaving them enters our minds. She shared how she believed her daughter had “chosen” her for a mother. I think she selected the most special angel here on earth. Even in her last days, she encouraged me to keep living, to keep enjoying life, even when those around us are struggling. She said, “Stay focused on the positive, feel all the joy and love you can. You will always think about it (cancer), but you’re doing well in this moment and you need to focus on that. It’s just so hard.
The more you open yourself to be healed and to live in the moment, the more it can hurt when it feels like everyone is suffering…. Get out there and live…. I get that it is bittersweet, but focus on you and how you feel. We are all in this; it’s the good and the bad that gets us through. Knowing you are doing well actually helps me get through some days. At least someone is winning. It takes a little bit of hope to get us through.”
“Today is a good day. The weather has finally changed. My magnolia tree is in bloom and it’s so beautiful. A reminder of the strength of life and rebirth of spring. Maybe you should get a Porsche. Why not??” I Love you, Carmen. I Hope you’re riding around in perpetual spring with the top down. And also Thank you for all you taught me about life, resilience and hope. You are one of the most exceptional humans I’ve ever encountered. I will miss you more than you know. XO!
Sincerely,
Dawn Eicher ♥¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.
