It was very hard to tell my kids that the doctors thought I was going to die.

Jeanette Wallace, 32, was told she had cancer last summer. She took the news in stride but refused to go along with the prognosis. She continues to look on the bright side and plan for the future. Wallace lives with her husband and four children in Panorama City. Vital Options is a support group in Studio City for cancer patients aged 17 to 40.

After the biopsy, I called the doctor. He didn’t want to tell me over the phone, but I said that’s too bad, I refuse to wait until the next day. When he told me it was cancer, he expected me to go berserk or something. I said, “OK, that’s fine, let’s do what we’ve got to do and get it over with.” It’s better to know what I’m fighting than to be out in the clear blue and not know what’s going on.

A week later, I went in for an operation. When they opened me up, they found there was too much cancer for the surgery. It had already spread past the stomach. At the time, they told my husband that I would be lucky if I lived four months. That was Aug. 8.

It was very hard to tell my kids that the doctors thought I was going to die. Especially Brian, the 11-year-old, because he understands more than the others. It’s like making a grown-up of them overnight.

I talked with Tiara, my 5-year-old, about it. When she heard the word death, she’s afraid mama’s going to die. It means somebody going away and not coming back. So I’ve told her I may not always be here physically, but I will always be here for her, and all she has to do is talk to me. I’ll always be on her shoulder, helping her out.

Eli and Ron Jr., the youngest, aren’t going to understand the word death, but they know something’s different. They cling to me more now than they ever did.

The social worker at the hospital brought up Vital Options, a group for young people with cancer. About a month after the operation, I started going. I enjoy it because they are people who are in the same boat, who can tell me things I don’t know. They’ve been through chemotherapy. There’s a genuine interest for each other and a genuine helping out. We have something in common that kind of knits us close together. There are people there who have looked at death the same way, and in a way can laugh at it, can accept it.

I think a lot of people think of cancer as leprosy. When you say the word cancer, they become horrified, and they get this look in their face like, “Oh my God!”

I prefer to laugh at cancer. It’s either a death sentence, or it’s a life sentence. You can look at it either way. I prefer it to be a life sentence. I’m going to live the rest of my life. You have to become comfortable with it. If you’re not comfortable with it, how can you live with it?

I still need goals in my life, whether I’m going to die tomorrow--the doctors say I’m on overtime--or whatever. I need short-term goals and long-term goals. I may never get there, but that’s not the important thing. It’s what happens along the way.

I’ve always wanted to dance, and I’ve never taken any dance classes. So I’m hoping when I’m off chemo and my energy is back up I will take dancing. I’ve always thought I had the body for ballet, and I was always limber. I will get back into horseback riding.

I want to be able to have those goals in the foreseeable future. I may never get there, but the working toward it, just getting to a dance class, would be lovely. Getting back up on horses would be fun. I’ve always been having children and working. Just give me a little bit of time for me, now.

I’m just not one to think about dying anyhow. I have a lot of reasons to live. I have four kids, and I feel God gave me those four kids for a reason. I have a lot of reasons to live and very little reason to die right now. And the CAT scan just showed that in four months the cancer has not progressed at all, it has not moved.

I was disappointed that it hadn’t gotten smaller. The doctor was ready to hit me. He said, “Jeanette, this is more than I could have ever hoped for.” I said, “Well, that’s fine, but next time it’s going to be smaller, because I feel that way.” He said, “OK, OK, whatever you want.” That’s the way I look at it.