Facing cancer head-on

Published in The Post-Star (B1) and on poststar.com

2/5/06

Too much life radiates from Kelly Mulholland's sparkling brown eyes, glossy hair, and full-wattage smile for a woman who has been told she is dying.

Breast cancer is trying to take over her body, but it's up against a steely sense of optimism.
The disease has reached Stage 4, which means it has spread to other organs -- in Kelly's case, her sternum, ribs and one lung. Medicine can only hold it at bay temporarily.

"Doctors have said that eventually this will consume my body and kill me, but I'm not going to buy that," she said. "I just have this feeling that I am going to heal."

Kelly has a husband -- News Channel 13 reporter Mark Mulholland -- and two young children, and doesn't plan to say goodbye to them anytime soon.

"I see it as a challenge, and I've kicked into fighter mode. I'm going to beat this," she said. "Obviously, my biggest reason is my family. But I also really want to share my story and help others."

She's so determined to beat the disease that she has taken every possible alternative approach to healing, from Reiki and acupuncture to an arsenal of nutritional supplements. She takes more than 80 pills a day, has switched to a gluten-free diet, and drinks green tea by the gallon.

"I feel I have to treat my body as a whole system," she said. "I'm just trying to do everything I possibly can."

She also travels to holistic health centers, keeps a journal and goes on spiritual retreats.

"I truly believe that our physical state is connected to our emotional state," she explained.

On Sundays, a group of six female friends and relatives gather at the Mulhollands' house for a hands-on healing group. Using a "light touch" method that Kelly learned at the Center for Integrated Manual Therapy in Bloomfield, Conn., they use their hands to connect "centers of energy" in her body.

Although Kelly can't fully explain how it works, she said she often feels emotionally and physically stronger after each session.

"I think we all believe that it has helped Kelly," said Laura Bouyea, a close friend and member of the healing group. "It's nice to see the positive in her, and I think it's good to have that connection of friends."

Bouyea and her husband, Kevin, have organized a fund-raising effort called Kelly's Kause to help with the $1,900 to $2,400 a month in medical costs that are not covered by the Mulhollands' insurance.

In Kelly's view, beating cancer takes more than money or medicine -- it's a mind game.

"Your thinking really does manifest itself in your body," she explained. "I'm just so lucky that I'm a positive thinker."

Mark said he is constantly impressed by his wife's attitude.

"She's not feeling sorry for herself at all. If she did, I think it would be tougher for everyone to deal with," he reflected.

The couple met in 1993. She grew up in Glens Falls, and was working in a clothing store and substitute teaching when a friend introduced her to Mark. He grew up in Whitehall, and had just started his job at the television station.

Even before they met, Kelly had caught Mark's eye when she showed up in the pages of a local newspaper, modeling clothes and swimsuits for a fashion feature.

"I was intrigued," he remembers, chuckling.

Four years later, they were married.

On a recent Thursday evening, the Mulhollands went through their evening ritual at their Wilton home. After dinner came playtime with their 3-year-old daughter, McKenna, and 5-year-old son, Connor. They read books out loud, put on a CD of bouncy children's tunes, and picked out a few games to play before bed.

As they settled on the living room carpet around a game of "Hungry Hungry Hippos," Kelly suddenly flapped her hands around her face and tugged at the neck of her turtleneck sweater.

"Whew -- hot flash!" she exclaimed.

Menopause? Not likely. She's only 35.

Earlier that day, Kelly had been to the cancer center at Glens Falls Hospital for endocrine therapy -- a monthly injection of a hormone-suppressing drug that stops the estrogen in her body from feeding the breast cancer cells. Hot flashes are a common side effect.

It's easier to cope with than chemotherapy, but it's not a cure.

Kelly and Mark have been through this once before. In 2003, she was teaching third grade in the Saratoga Springs school district when doctors first found the cancer in her breast. The tumor was attached to her chest wall, threatening her vascular system.

She had surgery to remove the tumor, then spent five months under the nauseating spell of chemotherapy. Her hair fell out, her energy evaporated, and she spent days at a time in bed.

"The first treatments were rough, rough," she said. "I thought that being young, chemotherapy would be less of a big deal. Actually, they treat you more aggressively, because your body is more hormonal. It was a very long summer."

The chemotherapy was followed by several months of radiation.

When it was over, she was "almost positive" that the cancer had left her body.

"We were so hopeful," Mark said.

For the next year and a half, doctors thought she might be right.

In early 2005, Kelly started feeling pain in her sternum.

"I noticed it whenever I had one of the kids on my lap, and they would lean their head back against my chest," she said. "I figured it was just residual pain from the radiation."

When the pain got worse, she went in for a biopsy. Last August, doctors told her what she didn't want to hear.

The cancer was back, and it was spreading.

"We never expected this," she said.

Connor and McKenna were toddlers at the time of their mother's initial diagnosis. These days, their parents don't hide Kelly's illness from them, but they leave it to the kids to initiate conversations about it.

"They use the word cancer, but I'm not sure they really know what it means," Mark said.

One night last month, Kelly crawled into bed with Connor when he was having trouble sleeping.
As his mom was dozing off, he asked her about the Sunday women's healing group. She explained, groggily, that she gains strength from the gentle touch of her friends. It helps her feel better, she said.

"Does cancer go away?" Connor asked.

As Kelly recalled the question later, her voice sounded strong and certain.

"It can," she told him. "It can."

HOW TO HELP
To learn more about Kelly's Kause, to donate goods or services to the fundraiser, or to doante money, log on to www. kellyskause.com.