The Princess of Wales, calm and stoic in her Friday video revealing her cancer diagnosis, gave no hint of the many things she is likely to feel, the fears she faces, the thoughts that keep her awake in the middle of the night. .
Her priority will be not only her health, but also the emotional well-being of her three young children, making sure they know only what they absolutely need, with all the positive effects she can muster: Mom willpower be okay.
When, in 2014, I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma, at the age of 46, a particularly aggressive form of skin cancer that could not simply be removed and forgotten, but required surgery and biopsies of nearby lymph nodes, biannual check-ups. Ups, downs, and recurring worries about my surgeon’s warning that ‘melanomas have a habit of coming back’—my kids seemed surprisingly indifferent.
When, in 2014, I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma, at the age of 46, a particularly aggressive form of skin cancer that could not simply be removed and forgotten, but required surgery and biopsies of nearby lymph nodes, biannual check-ups. Ups and downs and recurring worries about my surgeon’s warning that “melanomas have a habit of coming back” – my kids seemed surprisingly indifferent.
At 10, 11 and 14 years old they were not too young to understand, but also we only told them what we had to say. The needs, told with a smile.
My husband and I explained to them why I would be having surgeries and spending time in bed, why I wouldn’t necessarily be available to them like before, while also making sure they knew I was going to be okay.
Of course, I didn’t know it was going to be okay. But she needed the children to believe it would be, just as Kate will need hers to believe it too, both for her and for them.
In fact, I firmly believe that life is where you look; that if you look for good, you will undoubtedly find it. In that sense, Kate’s message of hope, assuring us that she is “fine” and “getting stronger,” takes on a more poignant and powerful resonance.
At a time when I could have sunk into despair (and I certainly had my moments), my diagnosis taught me that we are largely powerless over what life throws at us. Where our power comes in is how we choose to deal with those curveballs.
Shortly before my cancer was discovered, an acquaintance of mine who was a recovering alcoholic had asked if he could add me to his “morning text list.” I had no idea what this meant, but I agreed. I was going through an incredibly difficult time and it was clear that I needed support.
His wife had just left him, his children refused to talk to him, he had lost his job, and he was living in a small, dirty apartment above a friend’s garage.
In short, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.
The next morning, his text message arrived: a “gratitude list” of three things he was grateful for.
Every morning, this man would wake up and, instead of focusing on all the things that were going wrong in his life, he chose to look for the few things that were going right.
They were often small or seemingly insignificant (that you had remembered to buy your favorite coffee or that a neighbor had been kind), but it was a great learning experience for me.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, the scariest moments were in the middle of the night, when the house was quiet and everyone was asleep, when there was no one to distract me or calm me down.
I would lie in bed, my thoughts inevitably going to dark places, terrified for my children, terrified that the cancer had spread, terrified of the impending chemotherapy, of being terribly ill, of wasting away.
A few years earlier I had lost one of my best friends to this terrible disease.
I had seen her start with strength and determination, knowledge would defeat him, only for his cancer to metastasize and transform into a demon he had no way to fight.
My husband and I explained why I would be having surgeries and spending time in bed, while also making sure they knew I was going to be okay. Of course, I didn’t know it was going to be okay. But he needed the children to believe he would be, just as Kate will need hers to believe it too.
I firmly believe that life is where you look; that if you look for good, you will undoubtedly find it. In that sense, Kate’s message of hope, assuring us that she is “fine” and “getting stronger,” takes on a more poignant and powerful resonance.
That gratitude list I received every morning showed me what I needed to do to stop being consumed by fear.
Every time my mind went to a dark place, I forced myself to think of three things I was grateful for.
Even if it all seemed a little silly, it stopped my spiral and soon became a habit, a habit I have maintained to this day.
Since then, I have read a lot about gratitude and specifically how the practice of gratitude has the ability to rewire the neural pathways in our brains.
Scientists have discovered that happiness is indeed a choice, and if you don’t know how to choose it, then the practice of deliberately focusing on the positive aspects of life is a good place to start.
As I struggled with my diagnosis, I found that once I started focusing on the things I was grateful for, everything changed.
The skies became bluer, the trees greener, all in sharp definition and unbearably beautiful.
I saw the world with very different eyes, stunned by how lucky I was to live in it, no matter how long.
Robert Emmons, professor of psychology at the University of California, has said: ‘Gratitude is a sustainable approach to life that one can freely choose for oneself. It’s choosing to focus on blessings instead of burdens, on gifts instead of curses, and people report that it transforms their lives.’
In a paper published by the National Library of Medicine in 2022, researchers found that “gratitude was specifically associated with successful management of physical symptoms, emotional support, a better attitude toward death… humanity and the environment.” familiar”.
I don’t follow an organized religion, but I believe in one God, one Higher Power, and when I was sick, I found myself praying daily.
I didn’t pray for a good outcome, because I understood that I had no control over what could happen to my health. Instead, I prayed for strength and grace to face whatever came my way.
A decade later, my cancer still hasn’t returned. Life hasn’t always been easy over these ten years, but the key lessons I learned during my brief dance with cancer have stayed with me.
When hard times come, when life feels scary or overwhelming, I still come back to gratitude.
