CHAPTER 1

Life before Cancer

"What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow: our life is the creation of our mind."

— The Dhammapada

I experienced a happy childhood. I grew up with an Italian Catholic background in a small town in Ontario, Canada. I attended university in Toronto and am now a kindergarten teacher.

As I reflect back, it was soon after my father's death from cancer, when I was twenty-one years old, that I began to be fearful of the "big C." Immediately after his passing, I began researching foods that contributed to the onset of cancer. I soon gave up red meat, followed by all meat years later. This decision was difficult for my Italian mother to accept since she took great pride in cooking authentic meat-based Italian dinners. In my twenties, I began conducting self-breast examinations on a monthly basis. When I would feel something abnormal, I would make an appointment with my doctor and wait to receive reassurance that I was fine.

When I turned thirty, I insisted on having a mammogram. Although my doctor didn't feel it was necessary at this age, I felt it was. I remember reading somewhere that it was a good idea to have a picture of your younger breasts as a reference in case I needed a breast comparison down the road.

As I grew older, my fear of getting cancer continued to grow. I began to avoid foods that came in any contact with chemicals. If I couldn't find organic fruits, I would make sure I peeled their skin. I would really scrub the skin on my vegetables in hopes of washing off all pesticides. I avoided the use of my microwave and cordless phones. I would only use laundry and dish detergent made from natural sources. Before my teaching career, I worked at a casino, and each day I would insist on working on the nonsmoking floor to avoid inhaling second-hand smoke. I remember getting into a heated discussion with the casino's general manager about the unhealthy working conditions he was allowing his employees to work under. Needless to say, he was not at all impressed by my opinion, and I soon learned to keep my thoughts to myself if I wanted to continue working there.

My mother would often tell me that I was acting in the same manner as my father. As I reflect back, she was right. Soon after my father's brother passed away from cancer, my father became fearful of the disease as well. I remember my father becoming a health fanatic soon after. He would begin shopping at health food stores and only purchased all-natural health care products. He cut down on eating red meat and often advised me to do so as well. He began exercising and eating plenty of fruits and vegetables, and he cut back on sugary foods. I remember my dad bragging about how youthful he looked due to his lifestyle changes, but I remember his fear as well. When I was thirteen years old, I remember my dad visiting various doctors whenever he suspected there was something wrong with him. When I would ask my mother about his visits, she would always say that he wanted to make sure he didn't have cancer.

My father and I shared the same fear. We both had a loved one die from cancer and automatically felt that we must be next. From where did this fear originate?

Many experts believe that cancer runs in the family, that there is a genetic component, but I now believe it runs much deeper than that. Soon after my diagnosis, I was shocked to listen to countless stories of people sharing with me how scared they were of getting cancer as well. One friend even said that her doctor stated that it wasn't a matter of if someone would get cancer but when.

Why this great fear? Can we place partial blame on a society that is bombarding us with endless stories that foster fear-based thinking?

There have been countless studies suggesting, in short, that everything gives you cancer. Outside the cancer facility where I received my cancer treatments hung a banner that read, "One in three people will get cancer." Imagine the fear-based thoughts this message is sending not only to the commuters who walk or drive by this banner each day but also to the cancer patients and their families. Imagine the thoughts that would be elicited from a banner that read, "More people are living healthier and longer lives than ever before." This fact is true. However, it is rarely given as much publicity.

In addition to being consumed by fear-based thoughts, I also used to lack a sense of joy. I had wonderful family and friends, but I was simply going through the motions. I was very fortunate to have gone back to work half time after my son turned one year of age. In many people's eyes, I had a perfect life. I taught in the morning and was home with my son by 12:30 p.m. He would take his nap, and I would often take one as well. I would have the rest of the day playing with my son. This was so ideal! However, I wasn't feeling the joy. Although my son's love was indescribable, I neglected myself. My main objective was meeting all of my family's physical and emotional needs, and at the end of the day, that didn't leave any time for me. I was simply going through life's motions, ignoring any opportunity for self-nurturance and attention. I didn't even bother to take notice of the awkwardness of my right breast while nursing my son, something I would have been on top of years earlier.

CHAPTER 2

"Within each of us is a spark. Call it a divine spark if you will, but it is there and can light the way to health. There are no incurable diseases, only incurable people."

— Bernie Siegel, M.D.

I decided it was time to make an appointment for my physical examination. I hadn't had one since my son was born almost three years earlier. I remember being very consistent with my yearly physicals and self-breast examinations prior to having my son. I decided it was time to get back on track.

During my physical exam, my doctor felt a lump but wasn't very concerned because I was young (forty years old) and my breasts had always been lumpy and dense. My physician scheduled a mammogram just in case and told me that she would contact me only if there were any concerns. A few months passed, and I felt good that I hadn't received a phone call; I assumed my breasts were fine. However, I recall a conversation I had with a neighbor about her cancer experience. She stated that her mammogram didn't detect her tumor but an ultrasound did. This conversation motivated me to call my doctor to arrange an ultrasound appointment.

I was advised to pick up my mammogram report so that the ultrasound technician could refer to it. When I picked up and read the report, it stated that the findings suggested changes of scierosing adenosis. Since I wasn't familiar with this term, I did on online search and saw that it said that if you had this condition, you also had a 50 percent chance of developing cancer.

Needless to say, I was shocked. My doctor never mentioned this to me. In the meantime, an ultrasound was taken on my right breast. I met with my doctor to discuss the results. My doctor was pleased to inform me that the results indicated I had two cysts located beside each other and that was the cause of the lump. I was happy to hear the good news. At this time, I handed her my mammogram report and shared with her the information I had researched. She stated that if I wished, she could schedule an appointment with a surgeon so a biopsy could be performed. My appointment was scheduled approximately seven months after the initial lump was found.

The first appointment with the surgeon was the worst day of my life. I knew from the surgeon's facial expression after she examined my breast that I had breast cancer. At this stage, my breast was revealing outward symptoms, such as dimpled puffiness on the edge of my breast. The surgeon was asking me various questions about my breast, all suggesting to me that she felt it was cancer too. She stated that she would schedule another mammogram, this time a magnified, close-up picture of my breast. I was told to return in two weeks. As she handed me the envelope to take with me to the hospital facility where I was to have my test, I read the following words: "Breast cancer suspected."

As I reflect back, it was clear that the next two weeks would be the worst two weeks of my entire cancer experience. In my gut, I suspected that I had breast cancer. However, in case I had any doubts, I was provided with explicit miraculous "signs" indicating I did.

I arrived home from my appointment and was relieved that I was by myself. My husband was at work, and my son was at the babysitter's. I was trembling inside. I needed to know. I needed to know if I had cancer. There was only one action that I knew I needed to do immediately to get my answer.

Be still, I told myself. I walked into my bedroom and sat up on my bed. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I was amazed that even during this most difficult time of my life, I felt a sense of peace. It was as if this warm feeling wrapped itself around me and whispered, You will be all right. As I sat there in stillness, I knew I would receive my answer. At this point I asked my higher power, "Do I have cancer?" My eyes were closed, and I only saw blackness. Not knowing what to expect, I suddenly saw in bright white capitalized letters the word Yes. I had no doubt at this moment that this was the truth. I was saddened by that moment, yet somehow I continued to feel a sense of peace. I thought to myself, If cancer is what I have, then somehow, I'm not alone with it.

This warm feeling continued to wrap itself around me, reassuring me that I would endure this journey with this protective presence by my side. It was this feeling of security and protection and love that I turned to throughout my journey. Whenever the fear would creep in, it was through being still that I was able to access this feeling of peace and knowingness. For me, I was able to access this feeling simply by crawling into my bed, sitting upwards, and becoming still with my thoughts.

During this time period, while waiting for the results of my mammogram, I immersed myself in books and magazines in order to distract my attention away from reality for a few moments each day. Although deep down I knew I had cancer, a part of me held onto the hope that I didn't. I oddly felt that if I distracted myself from my reality, then maybe what I was going through would turn out to be just a bad dream. Reading was one of those things that did that for me.

I began receiving a magazine subscription of Oprah's O magazine. The May 2010 issue arrived in the mail, and I was excited to finally enjoy a few minutes where my thoughts were not focused on cancer, or so I thought. I began skimming the pages of the magazine and came across an article titled, "The Big C: Customization," which focused on developing personalized cancer treatments. I was so disappointed to receive a reminder of what it was I was trying to distract myself from. With high hopes of distraction, I continued on until the next article caught my attention. My heart was flooded with disappointment. The following article titled, "The Truth is There," was about the journey of a woman with breast cancer. I was so saddened not only to have my attention directed toward cancer again, but by the intention of these articles. I instinctively knew my higher power wanted me to stop distracting myself from the possibility of not having cancer and directing me to the reality of having it. God was telling me to let go of this hope I was clinging onto. Still, even with these two cancer articles and God flashing the word yes across my mind, I still didn't want to believe I could have cancer. At this moment, I was prompted to do what I always did in the past when in need of a spiritual answer from God. I closed my magazine on my lap and asked my higher power to allow me to open up the magazine to a page that would give me the truth. My fingers opened up the magazine to an advertisement from the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. My heart sank. I was devastated. My hope of being healthy was gone.

This sign from God was the beginning of many spiritual signs that would lead me on the path of enlightenment and healing. From this moment on, God was going to provide me with an endless supply of miraculous signs all leading me to the direction of self-discovery. Through the specific asking, openness of receiving, I discovered a force within me that I never knew existed. It was this power that provided me with not only with the acceptance of the disease but the recognition of its blessing as well.

CHAPTER 3

"If you think you can or think you can't, you're probably right."

— Henry Ford

Two days before my son's third birthday, I received a telephone message informing me that the results of my biopsy were in and that I needed to call the doctor for the results. I was happily surprised to receive this message. Surely, the doctor wouldn't be telling me bad news over the phone. She would call to set up an appointment if she was to reveal to me that I had breast cancer. But what about the spiritual signs that revealed to me that I had cancer? Could I have been mistaken about these signs? Was I reading too much into them? Were they just a coincidence? As much as I wanted to avoid making this phone call, I knew it was time.

The first thing the doctor asked me was, "Are you at home?" Thinking back to that question, what would the doctor have done if I weren't at home? What if I had been calling from a break at work and would have to return back to my classroom after receiving such devastating news? When I replied back that I was at home, the doctor proceeded to tell me that I had breast cancer. She said that due to the large size of the tumor, I would have to start with chemotherapy immediately, followed by surgery, and then radiation. She explained I needed to see an oncologist immediately in order to arrange my chemotherapy in hopes of preventing the spread of the cancer.

While struggling to process all this devastating information at one time, I somehow managed to ask the doctor a surprising question. "Tell me something positive." I remembered the long pause on the phone. She repeated the question to me and then found an answer. "You are young, and younger people tend to do better." Perfect, I thought to myself. I had something going for me at that moment, and I was going to run with it.

As I reflect back at that moment, I now see the huge shift I unconsciously decided to undertake when I asked that question. Despite the fact that I was just informed that I had cancer, the tumor was a huge size; I should be worried about it spreading, I would need to undergo chemotherapy within a few days, and I would begin to suffer all the side effects that come with it within the next few weeks, I decided to ignore these devastating facts and focus my attention and energy on one small advantage: my age.

As I hung up the phone and sat on my couch, I was embodied with a strong, intuitive feeling that it was my mind I needed to focus on in order to heal. It was my dysfunctional thoughts that had contributed to this disease in my body, and if I wanted to survive, I needed to figure out how to come to peace with these thoughts. Despite the fact that for the past twenty years, I had researched and attempted to do everything I could to avoid getting cancer from outside factors, somehow, I seemed to understand that it was my thoughts that I needed to heal in order for me to become cancer free.

At this point in my life, I not only had a great fear of getting cancer, but my mind was also entertaining negative thought patterns such as resentment, hatred, unworthiness, and feelings of helplessness. I had unsuccessfully attempted to heal those destructive thought patterns in the past. I was clueless on how to bring peace to my thoughts. I hated feeling this way, but I didn't have a clue on how to rid myself of it. Somehow, when I received the cancer diagnosis, there was a part of me that felt a sense of relief.

In a way, I felt that this cancer diagnosis was going to force me to heal these negative thoughts that were making my life unhappy. I knew that I was going to have to put a lot of time and energy into figuring out how to rid myself of these thoughts. This knowingness brought me a sense of peace. Once I figured it out and began to repair these thought patterns, not only would my body begin to heal, but I also would be happy again.

At that moment, I made the vital connection between the mind and the body. As a result, it was my number-one priority to figure out how to heal my "dis-ease" and begin the journey toward enlightenment.