Breast Cancer:  Alternative
Medicine
and an Upbeat
Attitude
A survivor describes her
experience
as both a patient and a
caregiver

butterfly line


Lillie
Lillie Shockney, R.N.
Education and Outreach Director
Johns Hopkins Breast Center

It might surprise you to know that I'm not as skeptical as most health care professionals are about complementary medicine for breast cancer. So long as standard medical care is not neglected, I see nothing wrong with a woman trying acupuncture, herbal remedies, homeopathy, and the like. If she feels those strategies are helping, she's probably right - after all, just about anything that fosters a positive attitude can be good medicine. The key is to include your doctor in your decisions so nothing interferes with your prescribed treatment.
I'm a breast cancer survivor myself, so I should know about the importance of an upbeat attitude. My current feel good routine includes biofeedback and visual imagery when I'm strung out, as well as an occasional therapeutic massage. But while those measures helped me even when I was fighting the disease, I'm sure I wouldn't be here today if I had shunned conventional medical care. Surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, and hormonal medication can all be absolutely crucial to a woman's chance for long-term survival.
To my mind, the exclusive use of "alternative" remedies only creates victims. That's why I prefer to view those remedies as various forms of complementary medicine. In other words, they're treatments that pick up where medical science leaves off, but they don't conflict with it. Avoiding that conflict requires open communication between the patient and her caregivers. Some breast cancer patients take shark cartilage, for example, though there's little scientific support to justify its use. I tell them that it may be OK to take it if they want to - but I urge them to let their doctor know, since shark cartilage could slow healing after surgery.
I believe that the best form of complementary medicine is a good attitude, especially a good sense of humor. At the Breast Center, we try hard to inject a little humor into an otherwise grim situation because we believe that it can make a difference in how well a patient does. Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer 7 years ago at the age of 38, humor was not a part of my everyday life. I took everything way too seriously, and I really sweated the small stuff. After the diagnosis, I went into a doom-and-gloom mode. But I was fortunate, because as a child, I had witnessed two role models coping with the disease - an experience that shaped my present view of complementary medicine and that ultimately helped to change my foul attitude.
Two close friends of my mother - I knew them as Miss Bertha and Lena - were diagnosed with breast cancer at around the same time. Miss Bertha had ignored the growing lump in her breast for so long that when she finally saw a doctor she had a tumor the size of a grapefruit. She was told she had only a few months to live, with an 8 percent chance of survival. I still remember what she told me: "Some women have to make up that tiny percentage, and I intend to be one of them." Miss Bertha was a psychologist and very big on focused imagery and biofeedback. She got her surgery and medical treatments and then went on to live another 21 years to the age of 74. Lena faced a similar dim prognosis with a similar upbeat attitude and lived 17 more years, into her mid-60's. They both used humor as a weapon against the disease, too.
After my diagnosis, my daughter snapped me out of my depression and I began reflecting on how Miss Bertha and Lena had beaten the statistical odds. I have since learned to laugh often, to see my glass as half full rather than half empty, and to value each day. I believe that's had a lot to do with how I overcame cancer.
In my work, I see the same thing: Women with a negative attitude tend to do worse overall. So at the Breast Center, we view patients in a different way than doctors are trained to do. Physicians tend - and rightfully so - to focus only on getting rid of the disease. Our complementary approach encourages an optimistic view virtually from the moment a woman gets the upsetting diagnosis. The first step is to connect her with a support group. We know that helps. David Spiegel, M.D., a psychiatrist at Stanford University, showed in a study of breast cancer patients several years ago that those who joined a support group survived twice as long as those who didn't get that sort of support. At Hopkins, I "match" each newly diagnosed patient with a survivor volunteer who is the same age and has undergone the same cancer treatment in the past.
Another complementary approach we practice at the Breast Center involves helping each woman who undergoes mastectomy to view it not as a disfiguring operation, but rather as "transformational" surgery: The surgeon is transforming her from a victim into a survivor; she has exchanged her breast for another chance at life. And one of our staff is always right there in the recovery room when she wakes up to tell her the good news that her transformational surgery is complete. We'll remind her that she's taken the biggest step possible to rid herself of the disease. And we'll encourage her to view any further treatment she needs - whether radiation, chemotherapy, medication, or some combination - as additional steps she'll take to help ensure her recovery. It's congratulations time. It's a type of complementary medicine, and that's good medicine.

butterfly line

Lillie Shockney RN, BS, MAS, Education and Outreach Director at Johns Hopkins Breast Center, is the author of Breast Cancer Survivors' Club and co-founder of the national nonprofit organization Mothers Supporting Daughters with Breast Cancer.