What the heck happened to you?
That’s the question you’re dying to ask, only you’re too polite. Don’t worry - I’m an open book. Let’s talk!
In November of 2022, my ex-husband practically carried me to the emergency room in the middle of the night, since I was barely able to put any weight on my left foot. The last thing I remember was a nurse offering me electrolytes - then everything went black.
We still don’t know where the deadly bacteria came from. Some of the doctors think they entered a small cut on my leg while I was relaxing in my gym’s hot tub - which seems plausible. In any case, my immune system was in a dire state due to my failure to nourish my body properly. I had relapsed into my anorexia and weakened my body, so I quickly became septic. My body began to attack itself as a response to the invaders in the bloodstream.
I had a heart attack, prompting a catastrophic cascade of organ failures - my kidneys shut down and I began 24/7 dialysis; my breathing stopped and I was intubated; I was being fed a sludge of glucose and seed oils through a tube just to keep me alive.
My entire body from head to toe became purple and bloated as the infection took charge. The doctors recommended a double amputation of my legs, but had little hope of saving my life.
Eventually they performed a risky skin graft surgery using a device that looks like a vegetable peeler for the human body to remove skin from my thighs and attach it to my calves. They also had to remove the dead fingers on my left hand and a portion of my left foot.
My waking moments were filled with agony - not just the worst pain I’d ever endured, but struggling with every ounce of my feeble body to simply breathe and fight for life. During the rare periods where I was able to sleep, I remember experiencing psychedelic-like kaleidoscopes of colors, shapes, and the repeated theme of skeletons and demons dancing around my bed, mocking me like a flock of vultures sent from hell. One particular dream came to me for weeks in a row - it featured a giant alarm clock counting down the seconds to my death; I couldn’t wake up, I couldn’t stop the clock, I couldn’t save myself. I was forced to watch until the clock hit zero and I heard my own screams in the distance far away, somehow pulling me out of the nightmare.
Tampa General Hospital, December 2022. At 5’5”, I weighed less than 80 pounds.
Lying in that hospital bed, I made two decisions. I chose to completely surrender all aspects of my life to Jesus Christ and trust Him to be in control. I promised Him that I would nourish my body, fueling it to do His will rather than focusing on my external appearance.
My formula for mental and physical health? Simple.
Christ + Carnivore!
The two fingers on my left hand which lost all blood flow and essentially “died,” leading to amputation.
The Failure of Conventional Eating Disorder Treatment
The day after being discharged from the hospital, I checked in to a residential eating disorder treatment center.
I had been strict carnivore since 2018 but was chronically undereating and suffering health consequences as a result. In the hospital, I both renewed my faith in Jesus Christ and promised Him that I would take better care of the body he gave me.
Unfortunately, the conventional eating disorder treatment center was hardly receptive to a low-carb, whole food way of eating - let alone the carnivore diet.
We shuffled room to room as a group, learning about our mental health disorder and why none of this disease was about food at all - while being fed the Standard American Diet of high carb, anxiety-inducing meals, including MSG-laden Chinese takeout, fried eggplant sandwiches, and highly processed snack cakes. We were told that if we could not eat whatever was placed in front of us that we were not fully healed.
The facility mimicked prison in many ways: we earned a ten minute phone call with our family each night if we were good boys and girls and cleaned our plates throughout the day. If we did not, we were given a “nutritional supplement” - a thick shake comprised primarily of seed oils and sugar. A strict 0500 alarm was enforced each morning, at which time we weighed in and took a shower, but could not go outside or exercise. My anxiety and depression skyrocketed and I was placed on several medications to manage it.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of compliance with this daily agony, I finished my time at the treatment center and was released into the world, free to make my own choices.
I chose carnivore - and I’m never looking back.
When I began once more to feed my body with fatty red meat, eggs, chicken wings, and occasional milk and cheese, I felt freedom wash over me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Other changes included:
I stopped taking my anti-depressants
My anxiety around mealtimes vanished
Inflammation disappeared
Skin irritation and acne healed completely
Digestion improved - no more farts or constipation!
Experienced deeper, restorative sleep
I realized that I cannot moderate. I’m an abstainer* - I must completely remove triggering foods like sugar and grains from my diet in order to be happy and healthy. The carnivore lifestyle helps me accomplish my goals and, more importantly, God’s plan for me. I believe He has given me a story to share and a mission to help others. I cannot do that if I am wrestling with the demons inside of me - and meat is like the holy water that banishes them from my soul!
*Read more about moderators vs. abstainers here!
This is an actual photo of a “snack” from the residential treatment facility I attended. Feeding people poison will not ameliorate their anxiety around food or body dysmorphia.
Just after my release from residential treatment. My superficial smile hid the pain of anxiety, depression, joint pain, brain fog, and a myriad of other symptoms caused by the poor diet and lack of sun or exercise at the facility.
Meatstock 2025 started out so well! Here I am frolicking with the cows at Lick Skillet Farm in Tennessee.
Just a few rock stars and me! Dr. Kiltz, Maria Emmerich, Dr. Berry, and yours truly.
Dr. Berry is the man who gave me "permission" to ditch the veggies I was forcing myself to eat on the keto diet and go fully carnivore back in 2018. Thanks for the "prescription," doc!
Flexing with Dr. Shawn Baker in the convention hall!
On May 17, I was flexing with Shawn. The very next day, the fun came to a sudden halt when my skin graft became infected.
By May 22, the doctors determined the infection had spread to my bone, and I had contracted osteomyelitis. After research and prayer, I agreed to the amputation of my right leg below the knee.
All smiles after a successful surgery! God heard all the requests of my friends, family, and even strangers who came together as my prayer warriors.
Mr. Stumpy all stapled up after the surgery. (Other names for him include Patrick Starr and FrankenLeg).
The Peg Leg Saga
I bought tickets for Meatstock 2025 more than a year in advance, and I was thrilled.
At that time, I had been 8 years carnivore but my motivations and my perspective had shifted. Now I had finally begun to focus on nourishing my body rather than restricting; I ate meat freely when hungry and stopped when full. I had found a great rhythm and was finally happy and fulfilled.
Since my surgery, the skin graft around my right ankle had been troubling me. My coworkers always knew when the grafts had become irritated or infected because I would be a colossal bitch to them at work during the day - the pain was truly unbearable and I had to leave work early to visit the emergency room a few times each month. They would give me a strong pain reliever and send me back into the world: a temporary patch for the symptom but certainly no cure.
That weekend in Gatlinburg was glorious - I had the opportunity to “meat” carnivore rockstars like Shawn Baker, Sally Norton, Robert Kiltz, and the man who first led me to this lifestyle, Ken Berry. We sang high atop the mountains while dining alfresco on brisket and fire-roasted hot dogs, heard lectures on the latest research in the low-carb community, and learned from one another as we shared our life stories.
But by the end of the weekend, my right ankle could no longer be ignored. The red irritation had worsened and I feared it had become infected. My fears were confirmed when I went to the emergency room: not only had the ankle become infected, but the infection had spread to the bone, resulting in a condition called osteomyelitis. The orthopedic surgeon looked me in the eyes and said, “If I were you, I would amputate.” The alternative was a series of invasive surgeries including installing plates, rods, and screws into my ankle - an unappealing notion after my experience with the skin grafts. I agreed to the amputation, and I’m so glad I did - the procedure was swift and expertly performed, and thanks to God I began healing even faster than the doctors had hoped.
The outpouring of love from the friends I made at Meatstock was nothing like I’ve ever experienced. Not just friends, but strangers were praying for me, sending me gifts and flowers, and messaging me words of encouragement throughout the day. The carnivore community is truly one of support - most people in the community want to help others succeed and live a happy, healthy, fulfilled life. It’s a beautiful thing to see, especially in a world where people often use social media to tear each other down.
To this day, my goal is to nourish my body so that I can accomplish God’s will for my life. The carnivore way of eating has freed me from the former anxiety and depression I experienced while attempting the conventional method of “everything in moderation.” Now I feed my body with the most nutrient-dense food with the greatest bioavailability: meat!
I eat all meats and seafood, but typically eat fatty beef roasts and chicken wings every day. I allow myself a treat once a week, which could be some dairy, a Keto Brick, or a fun recipe made with Keto Chow or Equip protein - like my world-famous carnivore cookies.
Check out my blog for examples of what I eat in a day to accomplish my goals, and to try some of my favorite recipes.
All smiles after my successful surgery!
Mister Stumpy or “Franken-Leg”