by K. T. Richey
“Biopsy? I’m going to need surgery?”
“The doctor we’re sending you to can do the biopsy in her office. It won’t take long. You won’t need anesthesia. You’ll be able to drive yourself home. But, I think this is something we need to look into further.”
“What if the biopsy comes back positive? What then?”
“Well, we’ll wait until we get the results of the tests before we start speculating. Right now, we need to get you over to Dr. Trinidad’s office. Janie is scheduling an appointment for you. She’ll be in shortly to give you that information. Do you have any more questions?”
Misha shook her head no. But she had questions, a lot of questions.
“Are you sure? I want to be sure you understand what’s going on.”
“No questions right now. I’ll wait until I see Dr. Trinidad.”
“Very well. Janie will be right in.” He shook her hand as he walked toward the door. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Nothing? Why did he call me in here for nothing? Misha sat in the chair, trying to be strong but scared out of her mind. She began to talk to herself. “Cancer? I’m too young for cancer. I haven’t even had children yet. Cancer? Not me. No, not me.”
The door opened and Janie, Dr. Wilson’s nurse, walked in. She gave instructions to Misha and handed her all the referral paperwork. She was to see Dr. Trinidad later that afternoon. She patted Misha on the shoulder as they walked to the front desk for discharge, trying to assure her everything would be okay.
All the way home, Misha prayed. “I believe. I receive my healing. God, you are the healer. By His stripes I am healed.”
Whose report do you believe? There was that voice again. Whose report do you believe?
“God, I believe your Word. I believe I’m healed. Cancer cannot live in this body. My body belongs to you.”
Later that afternoon Misha sat patiently in Dr. Trinidad’s office, waiting for the doctor to return. The biopsy was the most uncomfortable thing she had experienced. There was no anesthesia or pain medication. She could feel every cut and pull the doctor made. Now, as she sat in the chair, the cramps the doctor warned her about were hitting her hard. She searched her purse for some Tylenol to take but couldn’t find any before the doctor walked back in.
“Here’s some Tylenol. It’ll help you with your cramps.” She handed her the pills and a small cup of water. “The cramping may last a day or two. We should get the results of your biopsy in about a week. I want you to come back in next week. I know you’re anxious for the results. How are you feeling?”
“I’m cramping a little. Thanks for the Tylenol. Could you tell if anything was wrong? I mean, did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, I did see a couple of spots. I biopsied them. We should get the results before you come back in. Right now, don’t worry. If it’s anything serious, we’ll call you back in before next week.”
“School starts for teachers next week. Should I do any heavy lifting? I’ve got to get my classroom together before the students return.”
“You should continue like normal. I’m sure it will be okay. I’ll see you back next week.” Dr. Trinidad walked toward the door.
Misha stood up but quickly sat back down as the pain of cramps filled her abdomen. She waited until it released its grip on her to stand and walk to her car.
“God, I believe you. I’m healed,” she repeated to herself. She turned the radio up louder as the sound of Marvin Sapp’s worship melody filled her car. This time it didn’t comfort her. This time it depressed her. Then, the voice, another voice, began to trouble her mind:
You’ve got cancer and you’re going to die without even having children. The results will come back showing cancer. You’ve never been married. You will never know the joy of seeing your own children grow up. You shouldn’t have put your hands on that woman with cancer. That’s what you get for being disobedient.
Tears ran down her cheek. “God, I believe, I receive my healing,” she repeated but the other voice was tormenting her. She made a decision not to tell anyone and believe God for her healing. She assured herself loudly in her car everything was going to work out all right.
The rest of the week Misha fought the negative voices in her head. At night, when she couldn’t fall asleep, she played a CD she made with scriptures on healing. She decided to fast and pray for a good report. She continued with her daily routine, acting as if nothing was wrong. She avoided her grandmother because she couldn’t hide anything from her. She went to school and attended all the teachers’ meetings, district meetings, and the statewide meeting. She busied herself with decorating her classroom and didn’t mention anything about the biopsy to anyone.
Finally, the day arrived for her to get the results of her testing. Trying to be positive, she kept telling herself everything was fine, especially since they did not call her back. She knew if anything was seriously wrong, they would have called her. She praised God for her healing. Sitting in her doctor’s office she continually assured herself everything was fine. She repeated her healing scriptures in her head, assuring her everything was okay.
“Miss Holloway, how are you doing today?” Dr. Trinidad walked into the room and sat down behind her desk.
“A little anxious.”
“I understand. Well, we got your results. I’m afraid the news is not good. The pathology report shows the specimens we took last week were cancerous.”
“Oh.” Misha tried to look strong.
Whose report will you believe? she heard in her spirit.
“Are you okay, Miss Holloway? Is there someone here with you? Miss Holloway.” Dr. Trinidad got up from her seat and shook Misha’s shoulder. “Miss Holloway, can I get you some water?”
Misha came out of her intense stare and looked directly at the doctor. “What now?”
“Well, we have scheduled you for outpatient surgery. What I would like to do is go in and do a more thorough examination. It’s possible, if the cancer has spread, we may have to do a complete hysterectomy.”
“Hysterectomy? You mean I won’t be able to have children?” She placed her hand on her lower abdomen. “I’m only twenty-four years old. I’ve never been married. How can I need a hysterectomy?”
“Well, we don’t know for sure. What we’ll do is go in your naval and use a scope to examine your entire reproductive system, looking for cysts, lesions, or anything that looks unusual. Then, I’ll go in vaginally and look for the same thing. I’ll remove any lesions I see and we will biopsy them to see if they are cancerous and it will tell us if it has spread. If we have to do a hysterectomy, you’ll be hospitalized for a few days.”
“Will I need chemotherapy or radiation treatment? Will I lose my hair?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet. Hopefully, since you have regular checkups, we only have a small spot to deal with and none of that will be necessary. Are you sure I can’t get you anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine. So when are you going to do the surgery? I’ll have to notify the school. How long will I be out of work?”
“That depends on if you need a hysterectomy. If we have to do it, you’ll be out about six weeks. If not, maybe a week. We have your surgery scheduled for Monday. You’ll have to be at the hospital at six in the morning. You can’t eat anything after ten Sunday night. The nurse will give you more instructions. You’ll have time to talk with your family. If you want, I can talk to them with you.”
“No. I can handle it.” She took in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Surgery is Monday? I’ll tell my principal tomorrow after the meeting in the morning. He’ll need a note from you.”
“I will make sure you get what you need. Anything else?”
Misha shook her head no. She had enough that day. She couldn’t take in anymore. She never would have thought she would be diagnosed with cancer at twenty-four.
Misha walked out to her car and began to drive around the city. It felt as if her li
fe continued to fall apart. Just as she was getting over Roger and Bishop Moore, then her health got bad. She drove to her grandmother’s house and slowly walked into the house. Tears ran down her cheeks at the first sight of her grandmother.
“Misha, what’s wrong?”
“I got cancer.”
Her grandmother wrapped her arms around her. “Sit down. Calm down. Tell me ’bout it.”
Misha told her about the two biopsies and how she was going to have surgery on Monday. Misha cried harder when she told her grandmother she would not be able to have children.
“You tell your mama?”
“No, not yet. You know how she is. I need someone positive around me now. I need some intercessors to pray.” She leaned on her grandmother’s shoulder.
“Child, not every sickness leads to death. That’s what the Word say.”
“I know. What if—”
“Don’t say it. You got the power to speak life. Watch what you say. What the Lord tell ya?”
“I’m healed.”
“Then whose report you believe, that doctor or God’s?”
“I believe God.”
Her grandmother got up and went into the kitchen and returned with her slim bottle of anointing oil. She tipped the bottle, placing a small amount of the oil on Misha’s forehead, and began to pray for healing. After her prayer, she sat beside Misha and wrapped her arms around her. “Lord, child, the enemy wants to destroy you to keep you from preaching the gospel. But, his plan is not gon’ succeed,” she said as she turned Misha toward her. “You have a gift, a true gift from the Lawd. Peoples wit’ yo’ gift experience a lot of heartache. But God will see you through it all.”
She opened her Bible and showed her examples of prophets in the Bible and told her all they had to endure to deliver the Word. “This cancer is not gon’ take yo’ life. You have a lot to do. You got to pray hard. Pray for yo’ life and pray fo’ you child, one from yo’ own body. You pray and I’ll pray wit’cha.”
Misha left her grandmother’s house feeling better but still filled with anxiety as she fought the negative voices in her head telling her she was going to die. She paced the floor and recited scriptures loudly in her apartment. “God, I believe you.” Just as she gained the strength to eat something, her phone rang. She eyed the caller ID. It was her mother. She didn’t want to talk to her, but this time, she had to.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Well, you could sound happier to hear from me. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all week.”
“Mom . . . Mom . . .” Misha hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to tell another person.
“What’s wrong with you? You need to do something about your attitude.”
“Mom, look, I got cancer. Now leave me alone.” Misha pressed the end button on her phone. There was something about her mother that always made her angry. The phone rang again. It was her mother. She debated picking up the call. After about eight rings she pressed the green answer button.
“So what you trying to do, scare me or something? You know I don’t believe that lie.”
“Mom, it’s true. Dr. Trinidad told me today. I have cancer. I’m having surgery at Emory on Monday.”
“Ooooooooooh, Lord. My baby gon’ die. I knew it. I knew it. That day you laid hands on that lady in the church that cancer got on you. I knew it. Something told me you was dying.”
“I hate to burst your bubble. I’m not dying. It’s outpatient surgery. I’m going home the same day of the surgery.” Misha sighed and rolled her eyes, offering up a silent prayer.
“Don’t matter. When you let them start cutting on you, that’s it.”
“Thank you, Mother, for all your encouragement and support. I’ve got to call my pastor now. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone again. She called her pastor and asked for prayer and told him about the surgery. By the time she hung up the phone, she had lost her appetite. She went to her bedroom and fell on her knees and began to pray.
The next morning, she got dressed for work as if nothing were going on. She joined the other teachers in the auditorium to await the start of the meeting.
Principal Davis got up and began his same old boring “welcome to the new school year” speech. “I know we are going to have a successful school year. We have a good team and I want you to keep up the good work.”
He finally reached the end of his speech and Misha looked into her folder and spotted the work excuse she got from the doctor. Reading the note, she wasn’t really paying attention to what Mr. Davis was saying until she heard Roger’s name. She looked up to see Roger standing in the front of the auditorium.
“Mr. Williams is the counselor from the City Development League. His main focus will be to work with troubled kids and students from low-income families to prepare them for college. Y’all welcome Mr. Williams to our school.”
Misha gasped. She couldn’t believe it. Roger was working at her school. Is there something wrong with the universe? How could God let this happen to her? How could she deal with cancer and Roger at the same time? Uncertainty gripped her. How could she handle all that was being placed on her? Misha continued to stare at Roger until their eyes met. She turned away. If anyone could see there was something wrong with her, it would be Roger. He did not need to know anything about her.
After the meeting, the teachers were indifferent to Roger being there. They had seen so many agencies send people into the schools and they didn’t like it because it only brought more work for them to do. So only a couple of people walked to the front to meet him. Misha walked to the front to try to catch Mr. Davis before he left.
“Mr. Davis, I need to talk with you.”
“Sure, Misha. What can I do you for?”
“I need to speak to you privately,” she said as she eyed Roger approaching them.
“Hello, Minister Holloway,” Roger said when he reached them.
“You don’t have to be so formal, Roger. You can call me Ms. Holloway, or Misha will be fine,” she said as she turned to him, trying to act as if nothing were wrong.
“You two know each other?” Mr. Davis asked.
“Misha and I went to the same church. How are you? You look good.”
“Mr. Davis, I really need to talk with you. It’s important.” Misha ignored Roger. There were more important things on her mind. Besides, she could not take his false friendliness after all he had done to her.
“Well, okay. Let’s go to my office.”
The surgery waiting room was filled with people waiting to be called back for surgery and their families. Misha sat alone in the big room. No one went with her to the hospital that morning. She drove herself to the hospital. Judy was going to meet her. Her pastor told her one of the deacons and a missionary would probably meet her there to pray with her before surgery. But there she sat, all alone.
When she looked over at a few groups of people, she could see people gathered in prayer. Some had their priest with them. A rabbi sat with one family. There was also someone there who looked like he was Greek Orthodox or a monk or something; she didn’t know. All she knew was he was praying for someone.
She tried to hold back the tears as she thought about all the work she did at the church, and no one showed up at the hospital to pray for her during the toughest part of her life. She tried not to look around the room. Each time she did, she wanted to cry. Her family was not even there to support her. Even though she didn’t want her mother to be there, it would have helped to have someone there, anybody. She heard her name called. She stood and walked toward the waiting nurse.
“Your family can come back with you,” the nurse said.
“I’m here alone.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll take you back to a room. Come with me.” Misha followed the nurse into a small exam room. The nurse handed her a hospital gown and blanket. “You need to completely undress and place your clothing in the bag on the bed.” She pointed to the large plastic bag lying on the hospital bed. “I wi
ll be back in a couple of minutes to give you a shot to help you relax.” She walked toward the door and stopped. “Is there anyone you would like to call before we get started?”
“No.”
“Well, okay. I will be right back.”
Before the nurse could return, the anesthesiologist came in and asked her a few questions and left. Then Dr. Trinidad came in and explained the procedure to her again and asked her to sign a surgery consent form for the hysterectomy if needed. She reluctantly signed the form and gave it back to the doctor.
“Your family can come in and wait with you until we’re ready for the surgery.”
“I’m here by myself.”
Dr. Trinidad placed her chart on the metal table next to the bed. “Have you made arrangements to get home if we discharge you today?”
“I’ll drive myself.”
“You can’t do that. Does your family know you’re here?”
“My family, my church, my friends, they all know about the surgery. I’m here alone.” Misha’s eyes shifted downward; she was embarrassed that she had no support during this tough time in her life.
Dr. Trinidad patted Misha’s hand. “Well, we’ll have to make arrangements to get you home. You won’t be able to drive with the anesthesia. We’ll work something out.”
Dr. Trinidad left her in the extremely cold room. She didn’t know if she was shaking because of the surgery or the fact that it was so cold in the room. She prayed quietly to herself until a nurse came in and covered her with a warm blanket. She took a long needle and gave Misha the medication to help her relax. Another nurse entered the room just as the medication began to kick in. Misha was feeling groggy but could feel the bed slowly moving toward the operating room.
Chapter 10
