Blessed and fortunate is who I am

The Quiet Event

I have been asked several times what I am doing for my birthday, and the honest truth is, I am not doing much; perhaps only if something happens that I probably have no part in. The sense of occasion seems to overwhelm me; I would prefer to withdraw into solitude rather than participate in some celebration.

The last significant event surrounding my birthday was when I turned 49. It was all arranged by a young friend, and there were many guests, most of whom were acquaintances rather than close friends. As the celebration reached its peak at my friend's apartment, I withdrew to rest. I was already in dreamland when the last guest departed.

Yet each revolution around the sun does call for a celebration. I mark each one with thankfulness and gratitude. I am profoundly fortunate and blessed, which I recognise without dispute or argument.

A Dreadful Condition Loomed

When I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in June 2024, I was advised to commence active treatment. I told the doctors I had other plans: I was going on holiday, and it was only after returning that I would begin to consider what lay ahead.

My plan at that time was to spend time with Brian, but it was also a difficult period. I was reading correspondence between doctors about my case, and besides learning of the cancer diagnosis over a week before meeting with the specialist (due to mishandling of my records), I also saw that their chatter suggested the cancer was malignant.

To a layperson like me, I did not realise that all cancers are considered malignant in medical terms. Though in reality, the meaning wasn’t far off: it was evil, malevolent, dangerous, invasive, and possibly aggressive as well.

Batting and Battling in the Mind

Not only was the prospect daunting, but it was also frightening. I had to take control of the thoughts rushing through my mind and fill my listening with sermons about healing and living. Sometimes a creeping cloud would interfere, emboldening thoughts I was trying hard not to entertain: the idea that this cancer, which I could neither see nor feel, had the capacity to kill.

I fought off these invasions of morbidity and mortality, encouraging myself that I would see the better end of this ordeal. I would walk through the valley of the shadow and fog of cancer to emerge into the brilliant light of the sun, into green pastures and beside still waters.

The goodness and mercy of God, along with faith in the same, restored my soul and gave me hope. It was not going to be a journey without support for both the good times and the bad.

Looking to the Best Ahead

As it turned out, after completing radiotherapy, I took an extended sick leave and spent seven weeks in Cape Town with Brian. I had wished to celebrate this occasion with him; my hopes did not turn into concrete plans, but I do not view that as unfortunate. Opportunities once lost can be reclaimed, even after a temporary setback.

We will do more of this, not just in visits and fleeting moments, but also in the near future of living together, where absence would be reserved for the mundane and routine daily matters, such as work and university.

Every morning will begin with a smile, a kiss, and a prayer, and every night with gratitude, a kiss, and joy in our hearts. We live to tell better stories, and my mouth is full of testimonies of such stories.