Nearly five years ago, Carr, then 31, went to the doctor complaining of shortness of breath, pain and muscle cramps. She thought she was just overtaxed from a strenuous yoga class. Then came what she calls her “needle off the record moment.” Her doctors told her she had epithelioid hemangioendothelioma, an extremely rare form of cancer that affects the lining of the blood vessels of the liver and lungs. There is no cure. There is no medication. And there was no way, Carr decided, that she would accept this as her reality without a fight. She immediately started strategizing a survival plan, which she documents in the documentary film, “Crazy Sexy Cancer” [The Learning Channel], that was the basis for this book. Even so, she’s not some Pollyanna patient; the very grim reality permeates these pages: it is still a book about cancer. Learning about her disease “was terrifying,” she tells NEWSWEEK. “My perception was that you either were cured or you croaked. I didn’t think there was anything in between. I had never met anybody my age with cancer. I was young and fabulous and get out of my way! It was a very humbling experience that took me to my zero point.”
Carr’s first maneuver when she declared war on the cancer was to reacquaint herself with … herself. What did her body need? What should her pantry hold? What were “energy deposits” she could make instead of “withdrawals”? Her Rolodex underwent a major overhaul. (Tip No. 1: “Get yourself a cancer posse.” Hers is made up of 13 women dealing with various types and forms of cancer.) Her kitchen cabinet got a makeover, too. (Tip No. 62: “Do an all-out pantry raid.” Lose the dairy, pass the wheatgrass, please.) If the word “cancer” wasn’t on nearly every page, this would read just like a really great how-to for living the healthiest, happiest life that you can; instead, it’s what Carr calls an advice-from-the-trenches girlfriend’s guide to cancer. Either way, the advice is solid and the delivery refreshing.
Wresting her life from cancer’s clutches—one deep cleansing breath at time—Carr went from a Zen monastery in Santa Fe, N.M., to a year in San Diego and another in Philadelphia studying nutrition, with stops at yoga retreats, shamans, healers. Along the way there was the typical “tree-hugging, new age crystal crap,” she writes. She took to the road following cues from both Eastern and Western medicine to find the best treatments for a cancer for which there are only 200-300 cases diagnosed annually. Alternative therapies aren’t cheap: at one point, she had to sell her apartment in New York City and move back in with her parents to pay for the myriad treatments. Ultimately, what worked for her was an integrated path. One where Eastern and Western medicine exist together and, “can have tea, high-five and share secrets.”
There have been projects—“Cancer Vixen” by Marisa Acocella Marchetto (part of the posse); or “Why I Wore Lipstick to My Mastectomy” by Geralyn Lucas among them—which take cancer down a notch with their similarly charming, cancer-isn’t-fabulous-but-I-still-can-be attitude. But Carr’s book, with its scrapbook-style sass and sparkle, stands out. Serious facts (a list of the top 10 cancer hospitals) fit right in among the 77 Tips, the engaging mini-profiles of the women in her cancer posse and the “Cancer Faux Pas” tidbits. Two of her favorites:
Never ask a cancer patient how long they have to live, unless you want them to ask you the same question!
Don’t say, ‘You don’t look sick, but neither did my friend and she just died, anyway. It’s nice to meet you Kris, good luck, I’ll pray for you.’ Ok, so hit me with a truck and then back over me again and again. But at least you’re praying for me. Give me a break! Her positive and humorous take on such a sensitive subject hasn’t come without a few shots from those who just don’t get the idea of there being glitter among the gloom. “There’s that 2 percent that doesn’t understand the title and they think I’m the devil’s spawn and the title definitely caused a lot of controversy,” says Carr. “Someone [on the Learning Channel blog] said that I’m too positive, so I deserve cancer. At first it rattled me a little bit,” she says, but then adds, “This thing called cancer is just so nasty, and if somebody can have a positive attitude, that might be very threatening.”
Breast-cancer survivor Sheryl Crow, wrote the foreword. The conclusion is a hearty congratulatory note from Carr to all of her fellow “Cancer Cowgirls.” What is a cancer cowgirl? “A heavenly creature full of sass and fireworks” Carr writes, “a dazzling warrior full of peace and fury.” Women like herself, in other words, still fighting the fight. Though her lungs and liver are riddled with tumors, or “beauty marks” as she calls them, they are not moving. She is stable. Ask her if she is cured and she’ll say that she is a “survivor.” “Throughout the experience of these almost five years, I think I’ve just stepped into my big high heels,” she says. “I’m a size 10—those are large shoes. And they’re red! They’re just going to walk on.” One crazy, sexy step at a time.
