Lisa Cooper Marshall defied the odds in her fight to overcome cancer.

Lisa Cooper Marshall’s inspiring battle with cancer

Periodically, 318 Forum’s Tony Taglavore takes a local person to lunch — someone who is well-known, successful, and/or influential — and asks, “What’s Your Story?”

Friday the 13th. December 2024.

An unlucky day for some. A nightmarish day for one.

“I woke up that morning, I was in bed and could not make it to the bathroom. I was on all fours. I was sick. I knew I was dying. I knew I was dying. I could feel the life going out of me.”

For six months, myeloma had feasted on her once fit, healthy body. Now, the cancer had eaten through one of her vertebrae, causing it to collapse onto her sciatic nerve. Without help, she couldn’t walk. Without a miracle, she wouldn’t live.

“I was in so much pain. I was so tired.

I was exhausted from fighting this disease. I told my husband I was going to call hospice. I was ready.”

Three days later, and crying uncontrollably, the mother of four told her family of the doctor’s phone call earlier that day. The one in which he said, “You only have a few weeks to live.”

But the doctor also said there was a very small window where she could start chemotherapy — a process that wasn’t offered initially to Lisa because doctors thought her disease was treatment-resistant. (Lisa declined the offer to participate in clinical trials, preferring a holistic approach to winning this fight, which was now late in the final round.)

The kids broke down. So did their mother.

The next day, she began chemo. “I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say to them I’m done. I had to fight.”

Seven months later, the dark-haired, fair-skinned woman dressed in black and white sits across the table, smiling, laughing and having no doubt about why she is here.

“It’s a miracle. It’s a miracle. I’m not supposed to be alive. ... I wake up every day and thank God that I opened my eyes another day.”

Fifty-six-year-old Lisa Cooper Marshall told me that story — and her story — during lunch at a place she chose:

Zuzul Coastal Cuisine. Lisa has to be intentional about where she eats. At this restaurant, she could feed her body fresh, clean-sourced food. She could also sit without being shoulder-to-shoulder with others, which her compromised immune system requires. Lisa enjoyed grilled fish, subbing out rice for extra vegetables, and a San Pellegrino to drink. I had the spicy shrimp sandwich with fries and water.

“You would be shocked how much pain can destroy your will to live. When you think about the possibility of not being in pain anymore and seeing God face to face, you think, ‘I don’t know how long I can endure this, so maybe dying isn’t such a bad thing.’”

Lisa was born in Shreveport but didn’t grow up here. Her dad had a talent for turning around failing branches of a large company, which meant he was in demand. That meant as a child, Lisa often moved from city to city.

“Honestly, I think that prepared me for the unexpected. ... When your dad comes home and says, ‘OK, time to go,’ and it’s the middle of the school year, and you pack up everything you own and put it in a moving van, and you’re plopped down in a new place, and you have to make new friends and make the best of a new place, you learn to bloom where you’re planted.”

Lisa made good grades in school, played tennis and was a “pretty good swimmer.” But often she preferred to spend time alone.

“We didn’t have the internet, so I lost myself in books. I lost myself in the story. Even as a young person, I always appreciated the craft of writing.”

But no story Lisa read compared to the one that would be written for her later in life. A former fitness trainer, Lisa had always been into health and wellness. She followed a strict, almost entirely vegan diet.

“There was a season in my life where I was walking at least 10 miles a day.”

So, in 2022, when Lisa first noticed not having her usual stamina, the last thing she thought about was being sick.

“Maybe I’m just getting older,” Lisa told herself, “and this is just part of it.”

Then came the pain. Back pain. Rib pain. Finally, in May of 2024, Lisa went to an urgent care facility.

“I thought, ‘I’ve got to have pneumonia.’ ... They did an X-ray and couldn’t really tell.” She was sent home with an antibiotic, but continued running a fever through the weekend.

Three days later, someone from the urgent care called.

“We saw something in your X-ray that is very concerning, and you need to call your doctor immediately.” She asked, “Is it cancer?” “It could be.” A PET scan the next morning showed clearly what the X-ray had suggested.

“I was barely out of the machine.

I was just getting home. (My doctor) called me and said, ‘I am so sorry to have to say this to you, but you have cancer.’”

“Initially, I went numb, especially since I had lived a pretty healthy life. You think, ‘That can’t be right.’ At the same time, you think, ‘That has to be right. That explains everything.’” Lisa’s myeloma was aggressive. “There are a lot of treatments that are not on the table for me. The risk of the treatment — I could die from the treatment — is greater than any life expectancy I could have from doing it.”

She spent days having tests at The University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, where “everybody takes their pound of flesh.” There, Lisa’s doctor recommended clinical trials, a road she refused to travel.

“The drug rep said, ‘Yeah, we had a couple of people who died in the last trial.’ I thought, ‘I’m not doing that.’ Some of the side effects of the medicine were blindness, stroke and death. I thought I just wasn’t ready for that.”

So, Lisa chose to go the natural route, following a protocol and working with a cancer nutritionist.

“I was doing all the right things. I was ringing all the right bells, and my numbers just kept getting worse.”

On a return trip to Houston, Lisa’s doctor was direct.

“If you (continue to) go this natural route, given the severity of your disease, I don’t think you have six months to live.”

Undeterred, Lisa continued with her holistic approach.

“I was taking ice baths every morning. I did saunas every night. I did ozone therapy. I took high doses of Vitamin C injections. I followed an unbelievably strict diet. I did fresh juices every day.”

But on that Friday the 13th last year, Lisa finally — and with the fight’s final bell about to ring — realized she had to seize this one last opportunity. Lisa now takes chemo injections in her stomach every Tuesday. Lisa’s body can only tolerate a quarter of the recommended treatment.

“I’m not supposed to be alive. This little baby dose, and God’s grace, has kept me alive.”

Lisa’s health prevents her from doing conventional work. But she still has bills to pay.

“Lord, I don’t know what to do,” Lisa confided to her heavenly father. “I don’t know what to do.”

But the Lord knew. Back in the day, Lisa’s homemade cookies were so good that they were sold in the famous Neiman-Marcus catalogue.

“I feel like the Lord spoke to my heart and said, ‘What’s in your house?’ I immediately thought of those recipes. They were favorites of my family. They were favorites of my kids. They were favorites of my neighbors.”

Once scattered and stained, you can now find those recipes in Lisa’s recently published cookbook, “The Cookie that Built a Bakery.” It is available for purchase in several local stores.

Lost in the realization that I was sitting across from someone who will likely die sooner rather than later (“I still have cancer. I will always have it. It’s never going to go into remission.”), I asked my final question. As always, what is it about her life story that can benefit people like you and me?

“No matter how deep, no matter how dark, no matter how troubling your day is, your struggle is, your year is, no matter how devastating the news is, God is with you, and he has a plan. I’m not saying that plan is a miracle and it’s going to save your life, but our lives are not for us. Our lives are for other people. My whole life was, ‘What am I going to do? I’m in control because I took good care of my body, and now I have cancer. I’m in control.’ All along, the Lord was saying, ‘I need you to trust me. When you can’t feel me, I need you to trust I am there. When you are desperate for help, when you are desperate for an answer, when you are in pain, when it looks like the world is closing in around you, I need you to trust I am there.’”

She did. He was.

Tony Taglavore is a freelance writer with 40 years of media experience. A former television news and sports anchor, he owns Sweet Lou Media, a full-service advertising agency.