I decorated your homes, helped you choose your paint colours, and sometimes even tried to give you a little bit of courage to try something a bit more dramatic. My name is Kathy McNally, and for many years I worked as a decorating consultant.
On December, 7, 2005, I received the shock of my life. I was diagnosed with breast cancer and was told that my surgery would take place within just a few weeks, and could expect a long drawn out series of chemotherapy treatments after that. As much as my entire family and circle of loving friends tried to get me out of my dark mood, I found myself constantly thinking, “Is this it? Is my life to end so soon?”
As much as I tried to wear my brightest and bravest face, especially in front of the younger members of the family, my darling little nieces Kassandra and Meagan picked up on my fears, and decided to do something about it. They asked their mother to take them to the mall, and upon arriving, headed straight for a store that lets you make up your own stuffed animals.
The evening before I was to go to the hospital for my mastectomy the girls showed up at my door with beaming faces. “Open it Aunty Kath.” they squealed in unison as they shoved a hand decorated gift bag in my face. From within the folds of tissue paper I withdrew the cutest, fluffiest, little brown Teddy bear, that I’ve ever seen, and all decked out in pink ribbons. “She’s got two hearts Aunty Kathy” cried the youngest.
“Squeeze the arm Aunty Kathy,” the eldest chimed in. I did as asked and followed it up with tears of love as I heard the bear say in the voices of my girls, “We love you with all our hearts Aunty Kathy.” The bear also came with a birth certificate; They had named her Hope.
As I was wheeled off to surgery the next day, Hope was placed on the pillow of my hospital bed so she would be the first thing I’d see upon my return.
After being reassured by my surgeon that the operation had gone well, my family made their way back to my room to wait for me. “Where’s the bear?” my niece Kim exclaimed. Panic filled the room as everyone began to turn the room upside down looking for the missing bear. The search was soon joined by both the nursing and cleaning staff. The nursing secretary, upon hearing the commotion, poked her head into the room and said she thought she knew where Hope had gone. She had noticed that the little elderly lady who had been sharing the room with me earlier, had just been moved to another hospital for further treatment, and that she had something brown in her arms as they wheeled her out. “I’ll go get it.” a nurse said while pulling on his jacket.
“Wait!” My sister exclaimed, “We can’t just go and rip it out of her arms, she’s all alone and can’t even speak English.”
“I’ve got five bucks.” my other sister indicated, pulling out her wallet. Family, nurses, and cleaning staff all chipped in to buy the lady a new bear, and by the time I got back from recovery, Hope was all brushed up and waiting for me on the pillow. The first thing I did upon entering the room was to smile and say “Hi Hope”.
My journey was long and hard during that time, and sometimes I felt that I just wanted to give it up. But when I got to feeling that way I’d just pick up my little bear, give it a hug, and I’d get back what my little nieces wanted me to have the night before my surgery. Hope!
I am now three years cancer free and to celebrate I, along with my loving husband wrote and recorded “Eye Of The Beholder” To purchase a copy please email to eyeofthebeholder@rogers.com ALL the proceeds will go directly to fight this beast.