It's All About Attitude

By Laura Kendall

Last Updated: Mar 2, 2006
Articles & News : Articles : Sharing Our Stories

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God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I am sure that most of us have heard or read the words of the Serenity Prayer many times over the years.  There are some things we have no control over, and accepting that is often a very difficult and painful process. 

June 13, 1997 was the day that cancer became a part of my life.  If I were a superstitious person, I would read something into the date, as June 13, 1997, was indeed a Friday.  For the first day or so after discovering that the lump in my breast looked “very suspicious” and was quite possibly cancer, I was a wreck.  I sobbed and cried and was generally feeling as if my life was over.  I lamented that I wouldn’t see my children (who were 16 and 20 at the time) grow up and marry; that I wouldn’t get to enjoy my first grandchild, who was already on the way; that I would miss out on so much of my life.  I asked God over and over “Why me?”  But after two days of continuous crying, I finally asked “Why not me?”  Surely, if it weren’t me, it could be someone else.  Was I so heartless and callous that I would have someone else experience this pain and upheaval so that I could continue to live my life in my own little corner of the world?  How did I know my life was over?  Truth was, I didn’t know.  I was jumping to that conclusion.  So why was I getting so upset and grieving what I hadn’t yet lost? 

 

It’s been said that God doesn’t give you more than you can bear so if God felt I could handle this, who was I to say otherwise?

 

Those realizations brought me back to earth.  I settled down considerably after that.  Now I won’t tell you I never shed another tear or never had any morose thoughts after that because, quite frankly, I did.  But I was able to get control of my emotions, and tell myself to wait until I knew what the situation was before I tried to deal with it.  I also had my family to consider.  I can only imagine what they must have been feeling to see me fall apart like that.  It must have made things that much more difficult for them to handle and accept.  Cancer does not just happen to the patient.  It happens to the family. 

During the 13 days between my mammogram and my surgery, I literally planned my funeral—just in case.  I never told anyone, not even my husband, what I was thinking about.  I took my hymn book one day and marked all my favorite hymns.  I thought about who I would like to have take part in the funeral service.  Those aren’t exactly blissful thoughts to be having, but I figured if my prognosis was not good and I had done some preparation beforehand, then at least I could spare my husband and family the ordeal of having to do that.  Naturally, I assumed everyone would be grief-stricken by my loss and would be unable to function.  Isn’t it funny how we place ourselves on such high pedestals during times of crisis?  Fortunately for me, I didn’t need my funeral plans. 

When I went in for surgery, I wasn’t sure what would be done.  All I knew was I would undergo a frozen section biopsy that would confirm whether the lump was malignant or benign while I was still under the effects of the anesthesia.  If in fact it was malignant, I would have a mastectomy right then.  When I woke from my  surgery, my first thought was of placing my hand on my chest to confirm that my breast had been removed, and therefore that cancer was indeed involved.  It’s strange that I wasn’t terrified. 

 

I thought “Okay, now you know what you’re dealing with.  Let’s get on with it.” 

 

The next day my surgeon informed me I had Stage 2, Node-positive cancer and that I would require treatment.  During my hospital stay, I underwent further testing to make sure the cancer was isolated to my breast area.  These tests came back with good news—there was no further sign of cancer in other areas of my body!  An ultrasound and MUGA scan were also required before treatment could be started.  I felt like every inch of my body was put under a microscope. 

The oncologist informed me I would require chemotherapy.  I was scheduled to have six cycles.  Each cycle consisted of two parts.  I would go to Corner Brook  on a Wednesday for blood work, have my chemo on Thursday and come home on Friday.  That was part one of the cycle.  The following week I would do the exact same thing to complete cycle one.  Three weeks later I’d go back and begin cycle two; and so it would continue for the six cycles.  The time spent driving to my

appointments and back took up a big part of my life. I live on Ramea, an island community about 12 miles off the southwest coast of Newfoundland.  While there is a daily ferry service from Ramea to Burgeo, it is not a 24 hour service, and the schedule varies from day to day.  The ferry ride to Burgeo takes 1 hour and 10 minutes, and the drive to Corner Brook takes 2 hours, so depending on the day of the week and the appointment time, it is not always possible to return home on the same day. 

In preparation for the chemo, I had a Hickman Catheter inserted in my chest.  Of course, that involved a minor surgery under local anesthetic and a night in the hospital.  It also came with a daily routine of flushing the catheter and cleaning the entry point to guard against infection.  So I had to learn to fill a needle with a heparin solution and inject the solution into the catheter on a daily basis.  As I was given instructions and practicing with an orange, I was nervous about doing it properly. Of course, if it wasn’t bad enough, there was the added pressure of making sure there were no bubbles in the needle.  In the event that my chemo treatments made me too sick to be able to inject myself, my sister was also taught the procedure.  But with everything swirling around in my head and my life at that time, I wanted to be in control of something.  So I learned how to do it and I did it myself every day.

The day of my first chemo treatment arrived and I was nervous—very nervous.  The nurses recited a long list of possible side effects.  Of course, no one knew which of them I would experience.  The only thing that was definite was that the ‘red devil’ would make me lose my hair and it would make my urine red.  After the first treatment, I experienced some minor nausea, but that was the extent of my being ill.  Most times, about an hour or so after the treatment finished, I would be wiped out and would need to lie down for a few hours.  After that, I felt fine again.  I was very fortunate that I did not experience more side effects than that. 

My husband was very surprised.  Before this, if I came down with the flu I would need a day to just stay in bed and sleep in order to get over it.  So, needless to say, he had some grave concerns about my ability to deal with 12 bouts of chemo. 

 

But God gave me the strength and will to do what I had to do, and get through it. 

 

Of course, I had some additional motivations as well.  My silver lining was that going to Corner Brook for a treatment meant that I got to see my son and his family, which included a brand-new granddaughter.  So for a few days at a time, I got to spoil the little one as much as they would let me.

A few months into my treatments I was informed that radiation would also be required.  Of course, my initial reaction was that something was wrong. But I was assured that was not the case.  It was always the plan for me to have radiation, they just didn’t tell me earlier!  So the day after my last chemo treatment, I left Corner Brook for St. John’s to begin my 25 radiation treatments.  Six weeks later I returned home and the real recovery process began.

As was predicted, my hair did indeed fall out.  I started wearing a wig the day my granddaughter was born.  For the next 10 months, the wig and I were constant companions.  But, you know, the last month or two I started to hate that darn thing.  I didn’t want to wear it anymore, but I did.  I wore it for the children at the school where I work in Ramea.  While my hair was growing, it was obviously very short.  Somehow I thought it would be a big adjustment for the children to suddenly go from seeing me with a full head of hair, even if it was false, to what they would assume was a very close haircut.  They might not even have noticed but I felt better about it this way.  Anyway, once school closed, I put away my wig.

Throughout my treatments, I never missed a day of work, except, of course, for those days I was out of town for treatments and appointments.  I’m involved in a number of community organizations and I seldom missed a meeting.  I kept up all my regular activities.  I wanted my life to be as normal as could be under the circumstances.

Since my initial diagnosis, there have been a few scares along the way, although nothing was cancer related.  But I would estimate it took me two full years to start feeling like my old self again.

Accepting that you have cancer is a monumental step in your healing process.  It’s important that you remember to adopt a positive attitude, and keep looking for the silver lining behind the dark cloud that follows you.  You must exercise your will and strength to get through the arduous times ahead.  You must do whatever is necessary to enable you to cope and come to terms with your disease.  Reaffirm your faith that God is with you and will help you deal with all of this.  I and any cancer patient can tell you there are a lot of difficult days, but they’re not impossible days. 

 

With your own personal courage, the love and assistance of family and friends, and God, you can do it.

 

Each cancer patient needs, and should have, a support network.  My husband, sons, sisters, sisters-in-law, and friends were there for me 24/7, if I needed them.  They were absolutely wonderful.  They cleaned my house, cooked my meals, let me cry on their shoulder, listed when I needed to talk, and, on one occasion, even shaved my legs for me!  What more could a woman want?  I also had two role models in the community who had been diagnosed with breast cancer previously, and both were doing well at the time.  Both of them offered me their full support and encouragement, so I didn’t feel alone.

Being busy was important for me, and it still is.  As I mentioned earlier, I continued to work and attend meetings during my treatments.  Since then I have become involved in several activities that evolved from my experience with cancer.  I spoke at a National Cancer Survivor's Day church service in a neighbouring community, and organized an annual church service for National Cancer Survivor's Day for my own community.  I help others deal with a diagnosis, and I volunteer with the Canadian Cancer Society when I'm needed.  I have been to nearly all the Newfoundland & Labrador Breast Cancer Retreats.  I organize a "Walk for Mom” that is held each Mother's Day with funds going to CCS.  I attend Relay for Life each year, and I help sell Christmas cards, both for CCS and also for the Newfoundland Cancer Treatment and Research Foundation.  I am also now in the process of organizing a support group for Ramea.  For me, it was important to give something of myself to the people who were instrumental in providing care and service to me during my treatment process. 

I would like to share with you something that’s been pinned to my bulletin board at work for some time now.   A co-worker reminded me that this essentially summed up what I needed to say.
 
“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.  Attitude, to me, is more important than facts.  It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do.  It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill.  It will break a company . . . a church . . . a home.  The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.  We cannot change our past...we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way.  We cannot change the inevitable.  The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have and that is our attitude...I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. "

And so it is with you...we are in charge of our ATTITUDES.

 

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Laura Kendall
Ramea, Newfoundland

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