After recovering from Covid, my life returned to normal. It took weeks of therapy and exercise, but I eventually enjoyed life again. All that remained was the big scar on my face where they had left the ventilator tube connected till it wore almost through my cheek.

It was time to return to see my doctors, get my scans, and just be sure that I was cancer-free. It was time for my yearly checkup in June.

The scans revealed five tumors. My oncologist was quite disturbed because, due to COVID-19, I had not undergone any checks, allowing the tumors to grow for as long as two years. The giant tumor was the size of my clenched fist.

My oncologist said that surgery would be too invasive and catastrophic. They preferred giving me immunotherapy. Each month, I went in for an infusion that took about 30 to 45 minutes once I was in the infusion center.

I was with other people who were often suffering much worse than I was.

Each day, I took a pill that cost over $1100 called Cabometx, which worked alongside the immunotherapy. The goal was to shrink my tumors.

Every two months, I would see the doctor, and we could discuss what was happening. I got scans every three months.

The treatment caused me to have horrible diarrhea and weakness. Going to the bathroom 15 times or more daily and passing only water takes a lot out of you. I couldn’t go anywhere much because I had lost most of my control. It was humiliating.

I made several trips during that time. I was on the meds for over a year. I lost control on a flight back from Peru and was washing out my clothes in the tiny bathroom and cleaning up the best I could.

When I visited Peru, David and Katie took us off on a family trip. The family thought it might be our last time together. I could barely leave my room for all the meds were doing to me.

I can’t explain what it feels like to those of you who have never experienced this. I wanted to die. I wanted it over.

Friends come by and try to encourage you. They say what they think will help.

“You will be fine.”

“It is not as bad for you as others.”

“God will use this in your life.”

Everything they say is true, but it stabs you in the heart. It is like they do not care; they do not understand. Their life is grand, and they pity you and so try to encourage you.

I know that is not true, but I am telling you what it might feel like to the patient.

Of course, things are tricky for my family. I didn’t keep up such a strong front for them. They viewed me as someone who was depressed, tired, humiliated, and desperate to die.

“I cannot imagine how incredibly difficult this must be for you. My heart goes out to you.”

“You are showing such courage and strength in the face of this battle. I’m in awe of your determination.”

“I’m here to listen or just talk it through.”

The key is validating their genuine pain, offering tangible acts of service, and gently reminding them of reasons for hope - all while avoiding platitudes that diminish the gravity of their experience. Most of all, simply being present is sometimes the greatest gift.

Please think about what your family is going through. It hurts them horribly not to be able to help. Being helpless is a horrible feeling. They are hurting with you and extremely bothered that you are suffering and not them.

Talk to your family. Let them know your needs, fears, and feelings as you can.

Please encourage them to get out of the house and live their lives.

Try to spend quality time with your family and friends.

Do things that allow them to feel something that appears somewhat normal, watching a movie with them, etc.

I had had enough. I was frustrated and angry. Life stunk, and I wanted help. Finally, I decided to seek another opinion.

How the black missionaries of Silver Bluff Church in Aiken County, South Carolina, paved the way for spreading the gospel in the most challenging circumstances. #SilverBluffChurch #SpreadTheGospel