HEALTH HERO: SUSAN MCLELLAN
In the Name of the Son
By Camilla Cornell / Reader's Digest
When the oncologist told Susan McLellan of Chatham-Kent her almost-13-year-old son, Myles, had eight to ten days to live, she screamed. Lying in a hospital bed a few rooms down, Myles heard her howl of despair. "What happened?" he asked when she came back. He studied her face. "I'm going to die, ain't I?" he said.
Today, almost two years after Myles passed away, McLellan's grief is still palpable. "I'm not ashamed I cry," she says. "It's a testament to what I felt for my son."
It is, indeed. No one could have fought harder to save a child. And no child could have fought harder to save himself. In the McLellan home are long ropes of "bravery beads," each one representing a treatment or procedure. In 2002, 12 days after being diagnosed with medulloblastoma, a malignant brain tumour, nine-year-old Myles endured a 20-hour operation at Victoria Hospital in London, Ont., to remove the tumour. The operation left him unable to walk, talk or swallow. A year of chemotherapy and radiation therapy followed, causing cognitive disabilities, nerve damage and hair and hearing loss.
But in the ensuing years, it looked as though Myles was going to beat the odds. He learned to swallow, talk and walk all over again. He even became a tireless campaigner, raising $175,000 for cancer-related causes and another $75,000 for his own charity: Myles' Miracle Mission—Cancer Assist (MMM).
His goal: To set up a cancer-care centre that would offer education, support and hope for cancer patients and their loved ones in the Chatham-Kent community. But Myles never saw his dream come true. In early 2006, his balance began to fail; the cancer had returned, and took his life on February 16—a week after his 13th birthday.
"It was like someone pulled the plug on my heart," says McLellan. "What would my life's purpose be without him?"
Shortly after Myles died, McLellan received a cheque for $5,000 from Wal-Mart (where Myles regularly raised funds). Donations continued to flow in for Myles' Miracle Mission. A few months later, McLellan was delivering tickets for a breast cancer fundraiser to Mary Jane Horvath, whose sister-in-law had just finished chemo and radiation for the condition. "Are you still going to open the cancer-care centre?" asked Horvath. "I don't know," McLellan told her. "I can't think about that right now."
The conversation prompted Horvath to make some calls and to urge friends to do the same. Eventually, one friend reached property manager Vince Capotorto, who owned the stately home next door on Victoria Avenue in Chatham. Capotorto had intended to renovate the 5,000-square-foot building as offices, but when he heard McLellan's story, he donated the house to the charity her son had founded.
"No one gets offered a Victorian home," McLellan told the local newspaper. "Myles is here—he has to be." She was determined to turn his dream of a cancer-care centre into a reality—a warm, supportive environment where patients and survivors could meet, find comfort and get advice on everything from funding sources to treatment options.
But the house needed work. Fortunately, after the paper ran a story about Capotorto's donation, offers of help poured in from local contractors, business people and community members. On December 16 and 17, 2006, MMM held an "Extreme Miracle Makeover," during which more than 100 volunteers showed up to work on the house. They trimmed the overgrown trees in the backyard, built a fence, tore down walls, replaced the electrical system, updated the plumbing, put up drywall and painted. That cleared the way for two new high-efficiency furnaces, a custom kitchen, the sanding and staining of the hardwood floors, and new furniture throughout.
The MMM Cancer Assist Wellness Centre is scheduled to open its doors in December 2007. In its cozy sitting room, with the big fireplace and leather couches, support groups will be able to explore ways to deal with cancer and find encouragement from others facing similar issues, and visitors will be able to take advantage of the library of cancer-related books and videos. Computers throughout the house have already been set up and reputable websites marked so patients can access up-to-date information about their disease.
Upstairs, fittings for wigs and prostheses will be possible, and rooms for counselling await. Just down the hall is the yoga and tai chi room. "Mind-body programs help people manage stress and strengthen their immune systems," says McLellan.
MMM funds activities outside the cancer-care centre, too. On June 21, it sponsored a free testing clinic at the local Shoppers Drug Mart, aimed at identifying men at risk for prostate cancer. "We expected 50 men," says McLellan. "We got about 250." Other initiatives include Cancer Chatter
Matters, a school-based program sponsored by the local McDonald's restaurant, which aims to help elementary- school children understand and cope with cancer if it strikes them or someone close to them.
McLellan points to the wall as she climbs the stairs of the centre. A colourful mural fills the space: a flower-filled garden with children and adults wandering throughout. "That's Meghan," she says, gesturing to a little girl in a fancy dress. "She was diagnosed at the same time as Myles. She died when she was seven. And that's Shawn. He was 29 when he died."
In one corner of the scene, mounted on a white horse, clad in snowy robes with flag raised, is a familiar figure. "Yes," says McLellan. "There is Myles." His name is Latin for "soldier" or
"warrior." And the boy lived up to his name, fighting long and hard for himself and for others with cancer. "I guess it's my job to continue the fight," says McLellan.