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Just Because I’m Dying Doesn’t Mean I’m Any Less Capable of Being Your Friend
Editor’s note: Courtney Strain’s long battle for life ended June 21, 2010, at 7:44 in the morning. She died at peace with her family and faith. More than 400 people attended her memorial service June 26 at Bellefontaine Baptist Church. Those in attendance included BJC Hospice employees who had come to know and love her.
The interview for the following story was conducted only weeks before Courtney died.
Courtney Strain will leave part of herself behind in the hearts of those who know and love her when she succumbs to the brain tumor that is ravaging her 25-year-old body. She’ll also remain alive for countless others who read her words: “Just because I’m dying, doesn’t mean I’m any less capable of being your friend,” says a section of the brochure she wrote recently for BJC Hospice to help the friends and loved ones of terminally ill patients.
For now, Strain is living every moment with as much purpose as her deteriorating physical condition will allow. “Each day is a struggle,” she says. “I fight every day just to get up. It was easier before the disease started to progress faster.”
Her unyielding opponent is an inoperable brain tumor discovered at Missouri Baptist Medical Center in July 2008. Strain had been experiencing excruciating headaches for several weeks. “I had a gut feeling something was seriously wrong,” she recalls.
A late-night trip to the ER led to hospitalization and a battery of tests. A biopsy determined she had a stage-3 brain cancer.
The north St. Louis County native says her initial reaction was more realistic than hopeful. “I knew when they said there was a mass that there were only a few possibilities, and none of them were good,” she says. Just as tough was breaking that bad news to her parents, Bob and Becky Brooks. But telling her new husband of 10 months — himself a recent survivor of congestive heart failure — was the most devastating. “We were still newlyweds,” she says. “Brock and I married while he was still battling serious heart disease. He was dazed and confused at the news, after just making an amazing recovery himself.
“A lot of men wouldn’t be able to cope — he’s not one of those men. He’s not someone who would cut and run. Thinking about how Brock has been healed, I’m sometimes tempted to ask the Lord, ‘Any time you want to share your plans with me, I’m ready.’ But I know his ways are mysterious. We’ll see what happens. Come what may, I’ll live each day to the fullest.”
After her daunting diagnosis, Strain began a grueling regime of oral and intravenous chemotherapy followed by 6-8 weeks of radiation. “Nothing really helped.” she says calmly. Her next words seem to hang in the air. “They’re out of options.”
Here is where Strain’s Mom, a certified hospice nurse for 12 years, touches her daughter’s shoulder gently and reveals her own pain. “My experience is a two-edged sword,” admits Becky Brooks, RN. “I know the roadmap for my daughter’s future, but sometimes I wish I didn’t. It will be a life test for all of us. I’m just glad I can be an effective advocate for her.
“Courtney’s never been naïve when it comes to medical issues,” adds Brooks, who spends most of her time now at her daughter’s side. “Because of my career we’ve never sugar-coated the reality of death and dying to Courtney and her twin brother (who lives in Oklahoma City).”
“That’s right,” counters Strain, whose hair is wispy thin thanks to many bouts with chemo. “When Grandma Opal (a family babysitter, not actually related) passed away when I was five, my parents made sure we talked about what her death meant in detail. We even went to the funeral home. “
Brooks is calm, but a faint smile marks her pride in her daughter’s dignified grace under stress. “When Courtney was first diagnosed, she told us, ‘If God wants me now, I want some good to come out of it,’” she recalls. “Her openness draws people to her. She knows she’ll never get to establish a career or have a family, and we’ve grieved for all those losses. You ask ‘why,’ but you have to accept that God’s plans are bigger than we understand. Courtney still has great things to accomplish.”
One achievement already checked off is giving people a way to reach out to the dying. Strain’s background as a communication major at Southwest Baptist University and an administrative assistant with Save-a-lot Stores gave her the skills to create the brochure entitled, “What You Can Do.”
“Looking back at everything I’ve been through, I realized I could offer a unique insight to help others put themselves in the shoes of someone who is dying,” she says quietly. “I thought of the thousands of people I could share my voice with.”
Strain collaborated on the brochure with Hospice bereavement specialist Suzanne Doyle, who remembered Courtney’s sparkling vitality well from her 2006 Hospice internship. “I had done some communication pieces then and I decided I wanted to break some barriers about relating to the dying,” Strain explains. “I think I offered some things people needed to know, and ultimately, some things I needed to accept.”
What’s her #1 message? “Don’t be afraid to engage with someone who is dying. We’re afraid because that person reminds us of our mortality. Don’t be scared to do the wrong thing.”
Instead, she advises, “jump in with both feet. Sit down and talk to the person. Walk the path with them. I used to believe that no one would want to talk to someone like me. Now I know they just needed a little push. I’m dying, but none of us know how much longer we have. You never know when your last chance to tell someone you love them will come.”
With the help of BJC Supportive Care, Hospice, her loving family, and most of all, her faith, Courtney Strain prays for a miracle. But she’s prepared to make the most out of whatever time she has left. Doctors tell her that might only be months.
“Hospice gives you the key components and players to deal with this challenge on the medical and spiritual side,” she says. “From chaplain visits to expert pain management, Hospice can be a trusted partner in this journey.
“I believe death is just the springboard to another part of our journey,” she adds. “I’ve always been exposed to the reality of science and the finality of our lives on Earth, but faith is my foundation for support. Without spirituality, my struggle for a meaningful life and death would be like baking cookies without flour.
Cookies in the midst of the fight of her life. That’s a brave young woman’s recipe for inspiration. She’s nourishing many.
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