On Sickness, Questions, and Lessons Learned

Towards the end of 2020, I was sick.

I was diagnosed with mucoepidermoid carcinoma around November 2020. Thankfully, it was low grade and could be surgically removed. Unfortunately, it was located on my soft palate — which meant the procedure would leave me needing an oral prosthesis to help me eat and speak for the rest of my life.

Those were some very difficult times for us. We were still in the middle of the pandemic which made having consults and tests done more challenging. I was terrified, not only of the procedure, but also of potentially bringing COVID home to my kids and elderly parents.

I thought recovery would be a breeze. The procedure was done by two of my most capable classmates from medical school, a third cheering us on from a distance, all who were very supportive and helped me so much along the way. They also rounded up an amazing group of doctors and health professionals who provided me with the best care possible. My husband dropped everything and focused on caring for me, which was not a simple feat given the nature his work. I thought the worst was over when the operation was completed.

Only now in retrospect am I realizing how dark the immediate post-op days were for me. Not only was I losing sleep due to the pain — I was thinking over and over why this happened to me. My belief system was shaken to the core — I had always thought myself immune to illnesses, “blessed”, “protected”, and yet this debilitating one just suddenly landed on my lap (or in my mouth, to be more specific about it). “Why me?” I would constantly question God. My nearest and dearest know that my passion lies in teaching, in speaking , in coaching others — why did I have to be physically disabled in this way?

I hated the fear and anxiety I could see in my older child’s eyes when he saw me being fed through a tube, and my inability to care for my youngest because of the pain. I slowly found myself resenting other people who did not realize how easy they had it, eating, drinking and making conversation without needing an obturator. It was the season for parties and despite everything being online, I refused to attend any virtual gathering, not wanting anybody to see my “incomplete self”. I didn’t want to reply to well-wishers and would just leave most of my messages unread. I lost a lot of weight and hated the way I looked in photos — I thought I looked unhealthy and I did not like it.

The thing about illness, I’ve come to learn, is that it can be profoundly isolating. Despite all the loving efforts of your family around you to support you and help you feel better, there is something strangely lonely about knowing that no one else can exactly feel and understand what you are going through. The pain can be felt only by your own body, and the thoughts that come with it shout their loudest only in your own mind. This alone-ness in the journey eventually takes a toll not only on our physical condition, but on our mental, emotional, and in my case, spiritual health as well.

The trauma from the experience was real, too. My heart rate would increase at the thought of going back to the hospital, of having tests done, of going through everything over again. For several months, I could not watch anything related to hospitals as it reminded me of my ordeal. From watching medical dramas and seeing things from the doctor’s perspective, I suddenly found myself relating more with the patients and feeling their emotions so much more strongly than before. It became more exhausting than relaxing to watch, eventually.

I started to become all too aware of my own mortality and thoughts of death and dying haunted me during my most vulnerable moments.

It’s been more than a year and I have slowly grown accustomed to living with my prosthesis and some lifestyle changes. But until now, I still have moments when I cannot help but wonder what I am supposed to learn from this experience. From time to time, I still ask God, “Why?”

There is still no crystal clear answer. Sometimes, I wonder if this is the “thorn in the flesh” that is supposed to keep me fully dependent on God. Or, from a more self-focused perspective, maybe the enemy is using this to stop me from fulfilling my calling — which may be just the reminder I need that God still has great things planned for my life.

I really do not fully understand everything.

All I know is…

…That sickness is never a good thing. No matter how you put it, it is never something you would wish on anyone else. Jesus took upon Himself all those stripes so that we might receive healing, because it is never His will for anyone to be sick. Never make people feel bad or guilty for being sick because it is never anyone's choice to be ill.

…That during my lowest and darkest moments, God was right there with me, reminding me of His promises. Whatever I needed, JESUS WAS. He was the preacher with a message I sorely needed to hear. He was a friend who spoke words that comforted me at just the right moment. He was the family who selflessly took care of me and our household affairs so things could go on as usual. He was everything I needed, and He is still is. It was Him, through His Word, that pulled me out of the dark and brought me back to a semblance of my usual self.

……That sometimes, things happen beyond reason, beyond explanation. We get hurt, we wonder why they happen, we feel a certain desperation for answers that seem to always be out of reach. It happens. And yet, despite all our doubts and uncertainties, all our anger and despair, all our questions and fears, His love for us never wavers, and never lets go. He is with us through it all.

…That we are human, we are vulnerable to many different challenges, and we will definitely face several in our lifetime — And it is only by the grace of God that we will be able to overcome them all.

…That I have so many reasons to live — my family and loved ones, my life’s work. My desire to be with them for a long, long time has become so overwhelming. I have never been so grateful to have God’s promise of a long, satisfying life as an anchor to hold on to, especially during times when fear and worry become too much to bear.

…That given the opportunity, people step up and bring their best selves to the table. I had to immediately leave work to attend to my condition, and my team very efficiently picked up the pieces I left behind, made sense of them all, and delivered.

…That we are all going through different things at different times, in different ways. You can never tell how someone is affected by his or her circumstances. My illness may have been minor compared to others, but its impact on me was something only I myself fully felt. I was always grateful for people who extended a comforting word or an understanding smile. It never hurts to be kind and compassionate.

…That in the grand scheme of things, we truly know at the bottom of our hearts which parts of our lives really matter and which battles are worth fighting.

It has been more than a year — but it is only now that I am able to write about this. Perhaps this is part of my healing process.

To everyone who was very instrumental in my journey — my excellent friends-slash-surgeons, my medical and allied health professionals team (I even got to work with an audiologist, a speech therapist… amazing!), my good friends, my wonderful colleagues — I don’t think I have properly thanked you. I will forever be grateful.

To my family — my husband, my kids, my parents, my sister and her family, my in-laws, my relatives, everyone who prayed with me, took care of me at my weakest, and walked with me all the way — there are no words great enough to express how much I love you and how grateful I am to have you in my life. You ARE my life.

Thank you JESUS for this amazing gift.