Chapter 126: Croissants and Craniums
Bonjour, mes amis! Mon coeur is full. I am sitting on a small patio in the French Riviera snacking on fresh, juicy strawberries with a glass of Rosé de Provence.
I have been absent from this blog lately. This is not because brain cancer is far from mind (ha! Puns always intended), but because I have been trying to take my own advice and live mindfully.
The past few months have been full of highs, lows, and in-betweens. My physical health has, fortunately, been quite stable. I started getting Botox injections to help with the facial paralysis that never recovered after my second craniotomy, which has not fixed my floppy smile, but has improved it. Also- HOORAY for wrinkles! I’ve lived long enough to ask my dermatologist to put whatever’s left around those little suckers and it feels like some sort of “I survived cancer/lived long enough for wrinkles!” success party needs to be had. Who’s with me?!
My chronic post-craniotomy fatigue continues to be rough. It doesn’t help that I’m constantly overextending myself in every possible way….but, I’ve found some simple tricks to improve it. 1) Coffee. My favorite meta-analysis (Kim et al https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/31055709/ ) discusses the inverse association between coffee consumption and mortality from all causes, including cardiovascular disease and cancer. Sure, the studies aren’t’ perfect, but I’ll be quoting this one until the end of time!
Other cancer fatigue improvers: 2) Routine exercise. Yes, ok, this one is so cheesy and overstated. I’m really not trying to be a preachy doctor here, but getting my butt to CorePower Yoga on a routine schedule has been huge. I still don’t recommend headstands for us post-craniotomy folk.
3) More coffee! Kidding (kind of). Medication. My doc started me on a new medication for neuro-fatigue and it’s been incredibly helpful. I’m not one to share every bit of my medical history on this blog, but if you’re in the neuro-fatiguers club with me and have questions, send me a message. I’ve got you!
So, fatigue and droopy smile are still my constant companions, but they’ve become a little more like senior dogs sleeping next to me rather than snotty cats jumping on my counters and pushing wine glasses on the ground. Nothing against cats, they are sassy and I love that.
Other exciting updates in no particular order:
- My recent MRI continues to show “no evidence of disease.” This always surprises me in a great way. I’ll continue my life in the scanner every 4 months for eternity. Getting my money’s worth of health insurance makes my acupuncture free, so it’s all good.
- I continue to love my role as board member and medical advisor for Humor to Fight the Tumor. This year, the loss of federal funding for brain cancer research is TRAGIC. Most brain cancer research will rely much more heavily on foundations for support. Luckily for you….the Humor annual gala just opened ticket sales for this September and it’s going to be a night to laugh, celebrate, and fundraise. Our foundation has raised more than $7 million since it’s creation. Let’s make it 8 mil, baby! Come to the event, donate an auction item or sponsor (good publicity for your business), or just share to raise awareness. Info here: https://www.humortofightthetumor.org/register/
- I continue to be a traveling fiend. Some say laughter is the best medicine. I say laughter, hope, and travel are the optimal combination! Plus, coffee, a little bit of wine and morning croissants ( do not take this as actual medical advice…unless you want to)
On that note, back to where this essay started- sitting on a charming patio in the French Riviera, specifically Nice. It was very nice, let me tell you (oh la la, the endless puns are just un-brie-lievable).
I literally pinch myself to make sure I am here- feeling fabulously alive, healthy, and lucky in every way. To my right sits my handsome husband, a man I did not know existed before my diagnosis, whom I now can never imagine my life without. To my left is a bakery that has spoiled me every morning for the past week with fresh pain au chocolat. Five years ago, I was fairly certain I would not be alive in 2025, let alone traveling the world at every opportunity that presents itself.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve traveled to Italy (twice), France (twice), Indonesia, Thailand, Nepal, Bhutan, the Dominican Republic, Mexico, Cambodia, Britain, Canada, South Korea, and countless areas in the United States. Maybe more I’m forgetting, given the frontal lobe hole and all.
Let me be clear- I do not list these places to brag. I know travel requires a certain degree of physical and financial stability I am blessed to have. Rather, I type this because I would like to believe it might give someone reading inspiration and hope.
Even if you’re a cancer or chronic illness survivor. Even if you take multiple prescription medications and need to make sure you’ve researched the nearest hospital. Even if you use a cane, a wheelchair, or other mobility device. Even if the destination is not physically far from home. Even if you end up hospitalized in Thailand (great place for this, honestly). Even if the idea of staying up all night on an uncomfortable plane sets you back 24 hours in neuro-fatigue recovery. Even if you’re waiting for “the right time, for retirement, for the day I’m free of all financial worries…” Travel is still possible and I still recommend it. Even if “I’m still alive and able to” is the one that matters to me.
“I have a trip planned- I WILL be healthy” is a mindset I’ve found myself in many times over the past five years. I’ve told my neurooncologist this. I think she likes it. “I have a nonrefundable ticket to fly to Bhutan and hike the Himalayas,” therefore, I will be able to move my body and climb to the Tiger’s Nest.
This is fantasy, of course. At any moment, my tumor could grow, as it likely will (if statistics are worth mentioning, within the next 3-5 years…but I plan to keep ignoring that and encourage you to as well). When it does, my speech, cognition, and balance may all be impacted. I hope whenever this happens (which I also hope is never..) I’ll still be on this silly blog, bragging about my travel adventures somewhere that is accessible and adaptive for all travelers.
I know not everyone likes traveling, but I still recommend at least a trial of it for physical and mental health.
Life today is chaotic. I weep for the world, as many of us do. Turning on the news some days feels like an apocalyptic nightmare. When we watch the news, when someone is in our ears telling us to fear the other, the unknown, it can be easy to believe. But, when I’m across the world, eating Nepalese lunch with new local friends, practicing my trés mal French skills with an elderly patisserie owner, teaching English at an elementary school in Cambodia, or even eating BBQ with a gun owner in southern Alabama, travel constantly reminds me that not everything is so dire. “Fearing the other” comes from lack of context, lack of kinship, lack of curiosity.
To put myself again and again into situations that remove me from my comfort zone, push the boundaries of my physical and mental health, challenge me to face my own inner voice for days on end (the scariest part of a solo trip, no doubt) is a potent prescription that reminds me I am alive- right now, today- and that the way I am alive is really not much different than anyone else.
Here, in the French Riviera, as everywhere else I’ve ever been, I realize the people around me are me. We are all bodies built of fallible organs and minds. We all hope to be healthy, happy, and safe. We are all tired. We are all suffering. We all want a bit of compassion. We are all human, and to be human means to be part of an impermanent, imperfect community. The least I can do is try to share a little hope, love, and resilience while I’m still a part of it.
Love you all.
Sign up for our Humor to Fight the Tumor gala!
Fundraise. Spread awareness about brain cancer.
Share kindness. Find your joy. Eat a croissant.
My floppy smile and tired brain will try to do all these lofty things with you.
Fondly,
Courtney
©️ CB2025