This blog is Anastasia’s story of how she learned about her cancer diagnosis, written in her own words. You likely won’t relate to Anastasia’s experience as a student from another country living in United States of America. But most anyone diagnosed with cancer can relate to the shock and fear she felt, as well as the decision to keep moving forward.
Hours before the news, a layer of unease hung in the air. I tried to dissipate it by maintaining a positive mindset, repeatedly assuring myself, ‘All is well.’ The day prior, I had received an email from the diagnostic center but was too consumed by my graduate schoolwork and too afraid to read it immediately. I decided to wait until the evening. I finally gathered the courage to read the message, and the report indicated no malignancy in the lymph nodes. I hoped for the same in the biopsied breast tissue.
Instead, I was met with a barrage of figures. My vision blurred but a sense of relief washed over me when I saw neither “benign” nor “malignancy.” While I still lacked a full understanding of the report, I was grateful not to see the word “malignancy.” From my prior research, after my breast which had a tumor was biopsied, “malignancy” was a word I had come to know meant cancer – the diagnosis everyone dreaded.
To pacify my curiosity, I wanted to turn to the internet for explanations. However, to avoid drawing false conclusions, I decided to wait and call the diagnostics center the following morning for hopefully good news. Did I find sleep that night? No. I tossed and turned, wondering what the result might mean, still hoping for the best. I wished someone could hold me and assure me everything would be fine, but I was far from my husband and family in Ghana, alone in Indiana in USA, pursuing my master’s degree. I prayed fervently to God for good news and eventually slipped into a few hours of restless sleep.
I took this photo after a lot of tears to remind myself of my resilience.
Morning came and I was anxious to make that call – the call that could chart a new path for my life. I was disappointed when no one answered, and I had to leave a message. When my call was returned, I expressed confusion about my results and the response felt like a bullet I did not see coming. “Ma’am, I am sorry to say that you have stage II breast cancer,” the nurse said. “No!” my mind yelled, and my heart sank. It felt as if someone had thrust a knife into my chest. My heart raced and ached. My head spun and shivers ran down my spine, but I could not scream or cry. On campus, and surrounded by other students, I kept my emotions in check. Shock, terror, confusion and sadness rushed over me, making me question for a moment if I was dreaming. Soon reality hit – I was not dreaming. That day marked exactly one month since I started graduate school.
In that instant, I again needed someone to hug me and to hold my hand but there was none. I was amidst students I did not know. On the inside, I was in turmoil, almost consumed by the news of the cancer diagnosis. My eyes were quickly welling up, but I swiftly tilted my head upwards to stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks. Externally, I remained composed, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
Walking back to my apartment, it was as if God had abandoned me, leaving me to navigate this unthinkable journey all alone. My mind swirled with questions – how could this be happening? I had already faced challenging times in life, and believed life was giving me a fresh start by coming to the USA to pursue my master’s. Why now, just as my future was unfolding before me? My mind raced until I arrived at my destination. Once at my apartment, there was no time to process the bad news; I had to prepare for a faculty interview in a couple of hours. It was difficult to hold back the tears while dressing. I arrived back on campus just in time and managed to finish the interview without any drama on my part.
Immediately after the interview, I rushed to a secluded area of the school and called my husband in Ghana to break the news. At that moment, nothing could hold back the tears I had suppressed for so long. I burst into uncontrollable sobs. Though my husband is one of a very strong character, this unexpected news struck him hard. The distance between us made it worse; he could not hold me to soothe my pain in my moment of intense distress. Despite his devastation, he braced himself and tried to comfort me, though I could hear helplessness in his voice for not being close to me. He managed to calm me down and we spoke for about two hours and then prayed to our Father in Heaven.
I expressed my determination to fight the cancer with every ounce of strength, trusting that by God’s power it would not defeat me. After our long talk, I called on the phone and informed one other older American friend I had just met here in Indiana, not knowing she would become instrumental in my journey. Returning home, uncertain of my future, I fired up my faith and clung to it that God would not forsake me. One year on, I am writing this article during my second year of graduate school and having completed treatment. I fought hard and did not defer my studies, and that could have only been by God’s Grace. Balancing demanding classes, graduate teaching assistance and the immense physical, emotional and psychological weight of battling cancer was a brutal journey with very high stress, that stretched me beyond limits I did not know existed. It was not just a test of endurance, but also of faith, resilience and hard work. That story, however, deserves its own telling.
Anastasia Abraham.
(ewurannie@gmail.com)
