In my waiting room hangs a painting of a goddess, purples with many pastels. It is beautiful. It was painted by Carrie. She said it was me, I said it was her... I had met Carrie when she was just 33 years old, 8 years ago on July 7, 2003. She had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. I had already taken care of her mother and aunt for very early breast cancers years prior.

Carrie had stage 3 disease, a large 4 inch wide tumor and her lymph nodes were involved. So began the journey of a very brave and incredible individual.

Carrie did everything that was asked of her. And I mean everything. Mastectomy, reconstruction, chemotherapy, radiation, and hormonal therapy with amazing strength and maturity.  She faced all her complications of her treatment including infection, new tumor growth from radiation, drug reactions, and finally her long battle when the cancer had spread to her liver.

I have been in practice for over 25 years, I have taken care of thousands of women with breast cancer and unfortunately have seen some die as a result of their disease. This though, is my first funeral. Why, because I respected, admired and loved Carrie. With every interaction and there were hundreds, she was strong, highly focused and positive. She knew she could not change the horrible card she was dealt, so she just dealt with it.

Carrie was very beautiful both inside and out. She was an incredible mother, artist and teacher.

It is a privilege to wake up everyday of my life knowing that I might in a very small way help someone as extraordinary as you.