Dedicated to Doctors Edmund Chamely, George Chamely, Don Lee, Steve Budhooram, Austin Trinidade and Peter Bovell and their families.

“When an era of our life reaches an end, we need to let go and make a heartfelt transition into the new. Life changes us and presents us with choices. God is ever present in the gift of each day.”

I have made many pilgrimages, gone to many places, visited many basilicas, churches and shrines; this Year of the Eucharist, however, declared open in October 2004, was destined to be different, full of new meaning.

Whatever you my readers prefer to use it for, my prayer in the light of my illness is for the many people who no longer pray, for the many whose lives have become dependent on the material things, for the many who no longer enjoy the environment which is given as a gift to us from God, for the many who assist in destroying the world and human souls by greed, lust, anger, hatred; my prayer is (recognising there is hardly any love left and the cross is becoming vague in the distance) for divine intervention in the ordinary events of life which can and will assist each one of us towards our final destination.

Speaking of divine intervention, in February 2005 I had gone to the mall close to my home to arrange a meeting for our neighbourhood crime watch group.

As we would say in our local language, I got a ‘tap' from God. On entering my car, I hit my breast on the edge of the car door. The nipple became black and blue and swollen.

Days after, a visit to the doctor indicated that it may be cancer and further testing was recommended. This was the beginning of my cancer pilgrimage. Before leaving the office, the doctor's words were, “If it is cancer cut it off”.

“Just so?” I said silently. Like the mother of Jesus I kept these words in my heart, words which became a reality two months after. My medical pilgrimage led me to another doctor who after taking the ultrasound indicated further testing i.e. having a mammogram done.

My journey led me in search of cancer victims and survivors. One person I met survived 38 years, she was 98; another was 80 and is still full of life. What really shocked me was the large number of cancer patients - men and women, young and old - there are in T&T and the lack of proper facilities and literature in our health institutions.

Returning home that night, I prayed that God would enable me to make space to be silent and to find solitude in the stillness of what I was about to embark upon. I caught a glimpse of my soul; I met darkness within conflicting emotions and emptiness heart at my inner wounds.

“I am in need of healing”, I prayed. “Lord I wish to hear your voice speaking to me through my weakness and inadequacy; assist me as the one who will bring order into my inner chaos, but most of all forgiveness and encouragement.”

The words of Jesus to his disciples during the tempest, and those of Pope John Paul II at his installation Mass, “Courage! Do not be afraid”, echoed through and in me that night.

Results of the ultrasound were positive with referral for a mammogram. That too was positive. A date for a biopsy was arranged. The appointment was realised; six samples around the nipple were tested.

Results were received four days after – positive! On being informed that I had cancer, I recalled saying to myself in front of the doctors, “Hi Mr Good Cancer, I am happy to meet you. I can't remember inviting you into my system, but in as much as you are here, I shall befriend you and escort you out of my body with the help of the medicine men.” We had a good laugh at ourselves.

The date for surgery, Tuesday, March 8. Accepting the results was easy. Making a decision was also easy. I had no one to discuss things with but God, and interior peace regarding my decision came almost immediately.

I have always been led by the Spirit; when a decision is of God it comes peacefully, when there is inner conflict I leave things alone for a while. Another journey was about to begin. This time it was not about anger but about peace, about power and grace, and knowing oneself.

As for my faith, our Lord sometimes makes us feel the weight of the cross, even though it seems unbearable at times. I am able to carry it because in his love and mercy, I know our Lord helps and gives me the strength. Yes I received some interior consolations. They are not signs of perfection.

I know now that it is not consolation that is needed now but suffering, aridity, listlessness, helplessness; those are also signs of God's presence. The moments of suffering were pleasant. It was embraced with a joyful heart and spirit.

Being in exile was something beautiful because by suffering, I had something to give to God, the gift of my pain.

When one is diagnosed with cancer one may find oneself going through the following steps: I call it the steps of Daniel.

1 st Step: Denial/acceptance

2 nd Step: Visit your doctor

3 rd Step: Ultra sound

4 th Step: Mammogram or X-Rays

5 th Step: Biopsy and awaiting results

6 th Step: Results and choosing a surgeon

7 th Step: Deciding a date

8 th Step: Keeping your appointment with the surgeon

9 th Step: Surgery, convalescence, removal of stitches

10 th Step: Awaiting results of the histology

11 th Step: Moving on

In the meantime my responsibility is to empty my drain bag connected to the area of the cut.

As for pain, I would suggest prayer and communion in developing one's spirituality, a support group of family, friends, compassionate employers and a group of ladies like Josephine, Kay, Emerline, Jean, Tita, Amoy , Toy, Pat, Rosemarie, Isabelle, Jamille, Peggy and Priscilla whose smiles were like sunflowers.

Many others knew about my sickness. The Presentation and Christian Brothers, Presentation Sisters, The Edmund Rice Family, priests, even a bishop from Ghana sent me a card, praying for me. Communication was immediate and well received. All thanks to e-mail and the Internet.

Chemotherapy and beyond

On March 17, feast of St Patrick, I realised I was still being carried on angles wings. Even though the flesh has been cut, my spirit is constantly renewed.

What can I remember of these past days? Only God's love being poured out on humanity as I begin my Lenten journey in the wilderness of prayer and solitude and in union with our Lord's suffering.

Juliet before and after chemotherapy

Looking back I thank God for my formation in faith fostered by my parents, for acceptance comes with much prayer and a deep spirituality.

I know now even though the flesh is removed or dies, the spirit lives on.

Suffering with resignation is doing God's will. It brings great comfort in remembering the hours of our Lord's suffering. He did not abandon me when I needed him.

I know now the lot of the soul is to suffer, and silently, and it is necessary to be strong to become great. These words reflect our beloved Pope John Paul II who showed strength in his suffering.

As I continue my convalescence at home, the twilight hour had arrived for John Paul II. The weeks which followed reaffirmed that the Catholic Church has a great task ahead of itself.

The greatest scourge that afflicts any country and the Church today is the widespread alienation from their own rich traditions and experience of prayer. Whenever a country has lost touch with its own roots it becomes progressively lifeless and arid.

On Tuesday, April 19, a needle was inserted into my bloodstream for a 4-hour session of chemicals. The phone rang, “White smoke,” the caller said. I immediately prayed out aloud, “Lord I offer these six sessions of chemotherapy for our new Pope.”

By this time my skull began itching as I had gone voluntarily to the hairdresser and had my hair shaved. My sixth and final session was on Tuesday August 2.

During this period I kept vigil for World Youth Day 2005 in Colonge , Germany with Pope Benedict XVI. His fourteen speeches were remarkable.

Radiation

To the many cancer victims and family members, I would like to say never become fearful of procedures. Medicine has come a long way. The mind is to be rescued from anxiousness, helplessness, fear and pity.

If you can overcome these areas and maintain a focus with a cheerful heart, then the process becomes a bearable one. Recovery is a slow process, nothing like the press of a button. It takes almost eight months, 24/7.

It is rich opportunity for family prayer, discussion, exchange of thoughts, confessions and most of all renewal of love within the family. In the light of the many hurricanes we have witnessed lately, I find cancer to be a hurricane disease.

In its wake it leaves your body tired, and your spirit flagging, but like any other disaster it also reawakens one strength, one's creativity and will, too not only survive, but to thrive. Cancer has changed my body and life.

Memory problems are a common complaint after chemotherapy, but it subsides with time.

These past few months have been a time for reassessment and re-evaluation of my life. I have had time to decide what is really important and worth my time.

My belief in or connection to a spiritual power outside of myself continues. My appreciation for art, music, friendship, laughter has never been stronger.

I would encourage all to acknowledge the part that spirituality plays in one's healing and recovery, and then develop ways to express one's faith.

The trauma of any illness, especially chronic unpredictable illness often prompts us to re-examine our philosophy of life. While some find their personalities and world-views barely altered, the change in others may be so radical that it leaves family and friends asking, “Who stole my mom/dad, wife/husband, sister/brother, best friend?”

Strong and generous hearts do not complain except for very pressing motives and even then they do not allow such motives to assume overarching importance.

Even when you are at your lowest point, do not adopt an attitude of defeat. Concentrate on what lies ahead, never look back and remember: “ This too shall pass ”.