Wow! What an unexpected journey!

Nevertheless, here I am. I decided to share this journey with you because I’ve long felt that avoiding the talk and harsh realities of the Big C is nonsense. Why should it be a taboo topic still when so many lives have been, are and still will be affected by its horror and the trauma it causes?

Up to September 2021, I was a perfectly healthy woman. Then life changed drastically. I started to have heart palpitations which only increased severely in time. My loving husband dragged my proud butt to the doctor, and there I had to get an EKG, which showed that my heart functions were as expected, but it was beating way too fast. Next up was blood tests which shocked us tremendously. All my blood levels were down – white blood cells, red blood cells and platelets. Something was very wrong. We waited another four weeks to see if it was not just the result of a viral infection, but four weeks later, the tests looked even worse. Our GP immediately ordered a bone marrow biopsy and more tests. As I looked him in the eyes, I pleaded not to do that biopsy. Somehow, I just knew something was off. His response was as always gentle and kind but firm. Finally, he said, “No, Noreen, I know, but we have to look into this. Something is wrong, and the pathologist called to say that it must be done.” Well, there was nothing more to say. It had to be done.

I was admitted to Lady Pohamba hospital in Windhoek on Monday, 28 November 2021. My GP handed me over into the care of a resident doctor there, who immediately organised the biopsy and what felt like a million more blood tests. This is where the vampires come in. It’s my pet name for the Pathcare nurses who so diligently came to withdraw blood every morning at 5 AM. I was genuinely concerned that my already almost nonexistent stores were running dry very quickly. They all took it in good spirit, though, and we often laughed about it.

The shock!

On Tuesday morning, the biopsy was done, and sadly, the results I’ve received later in the day was shocking and disturbing. My doctor informed me that abnormal bone marrow cells indicated cancerous growth or leukaemia. Let’s be clear on this. I don’t like to speak names and sickness over me because of my Christian beliefs. This does not make me narrow-minded. I just view things differently. Let me elaborate at this point. There is a reality that we live in. It is what it is. However, there is also truth, and these two things are not always the same for me. Truth to me is a person – his name is Jesus. John 14:6 says, Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” So, to me, Jesus represents truth, irrespective of the reality I find myself in. This means that I acknowledge my circumstances, and I must live them, but that my truth still says he is also a healer, so this is not necessarily a death sentence – it could be, but it is not finalised yet. Of course, I was in shock. Halloo?? We’ve had plans. Our son’s future is of utmost importance now. We were looking at retirement options in a few years, etc. Now, this. I guess life happens when you make plans.

I called my husband and asked him to gently break this disturbing news to our son because I could not. Jethro did not take it well. He went into complete shock. For a young boy of 14, he has experienced loss too often already, and I knew what fears reside in his heart. He had to put down a bird he cared for very much not too long ago. This broke him. His question still resonated in my mind… “Why is it that everyone I love die, mom? I couldn’t answer him before. What on earth was I going to tell him now?

Later that day, both my husband and son came to visit me. We asked our doctor to give us something to calm Jethro’s nerves. He did not have much to say that day, but he just kept looking at me. And the absolute desperation on my husband’s face broke my heart. We tried to get our heads around it, but what was there to say? Unannounced, uninvited, our lives were just thrown into complete disarray… as if we did not already have a lot to deal with in what became the “new normal challenges” for us.

A major shift

We were informed that Namibia’s oncology facilities could not treat this sickness and that South Africa was my best bet. The docter who took care of me, immediately called his colleagues in Cape Town, who agreed to take me in. My husband desperately had to run around and get the paperwork done with our medical aid to see if a transfer could be facilitated. In between, my colleagues at Capricorn Group helped us get a session with a clinical psychologist who was kind enough to come and see all three of us at the hospital for trauma counselling. It was a good session, but something had already shifted in me despite her inspiring session.

I’ve said it before that I am a Christian. To me, that means more than religion – it’s relationship. I’ve built a relationship with Jesus, and I have come to know his presence and the presence of his Holy spirit well in my life. I can hear his still voice at times, and I sense the unconditional love that surrounds you when he enters a room. At some point in my life, I’ve also realised that if he should ever call me home, I would have no reservations about going. I would go immediately, simply because you start to crave that presence more than you desire anything else in this world. And yet, the haunted faces of the two most precious people in my life had me questioning my resolve – and I seldom do that. Instead, I’ve trained my mind to choose and live with whatever consequences follow my decisions. That’s my way… or is it?

Weighing the choice

That night, I had to make a choice. I knew God was still in control, but I had to choose to ask him to tell me the truth, whether it’s time or not, or to talk openly about my desires in the matter. You need to know that this is not my first time dealing with cancer. Both my father and brother had it. My father died of a bleeding ulcer, not actual cancer, but my brother faded away before our very eyes until nothing, but a skeleton remained. This caused severe trauma to our family. However, he was too young to die. He was only 24 years old. Later, I met more people on this journey. Many survived; others didn’t. My aunt recently kicked breast cancer’s butt and my 92-year-old father-in-law, who had lymphoma, also overcame it. He died because his heart gave in due to old age, but the autopsy revealed zero cancer in his body. I met many more warriors along the way, and I have often stood in the gap for them. God trained me to become an intercessor and prayer warrior, so I’ve learned some divine strategies over time. Yet, I also know the ugly truth of the disease. I’ve taken care of my father-in-law. I saw the devastation of the many loved ones when I had to shave their heads clean. It always broke my heart because it signalled the harsh reality of cancer – that it comes to kill, steal, and destroy. I know the phycological stages – I’ve lived through them already—the denial, anger, resentments, etc. Nothing new, yet here I am. I am standing in those shoes now.

What now Lord?

Would it be selfish to ask to stay longer so that I can see the son of your promise develop and grow into the man you showed me he would be? Or to grow old with the love of my life – another gift you’ve so lavishly spoiled me with? You’ve made me a fighter, a warrior. I never quit. I don’t even think I know how to. Yet, what is right and what is wrong here. The divine truth I know that would inevitably happen, or more time for my desires? I would, of course, do exactly as you instruct me and ask of me. No doubt. But either way, it would hurt me. I am not scared of the battle, nor do I fear death because I know I’ll be with you forever. But Father, my heart does not want to say goodbye just yet. I always choose love, which is the most challenging fruit to cultivate. It’s like a pineapple. Incredible, but so thorny. To me, the fruit of love has always only meant sacrifice because that’s the example you’ve shown me.

So, I decided to pray a prayer I’ve often prayed for so many, and He has always honoured it. 2 Kings 20 “Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord, ³ “Remember, Lord, how I have walked before you faithfully and with wholehearted devotion and have done what is good in your eyes.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly. Go back and tell Hezekiah, the leader of my people, ‘This is what the LORD, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you. On the third day from now, you will go up to the temple of the LORD. I will add fifteen years to your life.

I do, of course, know the implications of my choice. If my Lord chooses to grant me this request, I will remain in what will be the darkest times the world has ever known. The remnant is rising, the world is changing, and the shift has started. Things will not get easier, but I will have more time with my loved ones. And I will be in not just a temporary fight for my life, but a fight against good and evil, harvesttime and encroaching darkness that will cause more sorrow and pain for humanity. Yet, there is always hope. Not just for me, but everyone. My life’s dedication would shift from my desires towards his cause.

I’ve never been attracted to power, fame, or fortune. I consider myself a simple person who wants to live in peace and serenity. Yet, we are all called. But few choose to take up this cross because we know it will take everything from us. When you decide to follow Jesus, you gain eternal salvation, but you can be sure of deep sorrow and pain ahead in your life. You will be weighed and measured. He only said, “follow me”, and talked about a very narrow road. I guess this is my narrow road. So be it then, Lord. I’ve made my choice, and you know that I will see it through, no matter what. So, I will patiently wait on your response in this matter. Will you spare me the future suffering that is to come? Or will you allow me to take territory? It’s going to be a helluva fight either way.

My next entry will further the journey to Cape town, treatments, and where I find myself now.