Resh­ma Sub­ran, 42,

south Trinidad

In Jan­u­ary 2025, I re­ceived a di­ag­no­sis of cer­vi­cal can­cer.

Hear­ing those words was ter­ri­fy­ing. It felt as if my en­tire world had col­lapsed since I had no un­der­stand­ing of can­cer or its treat­ments. My ini­tial re­ac­tion was the fear of dy­ing. How­ev­er, af­ter un­der­go­ing ad­di­tion­al tests and con­sult­ing with my doc­tors, I dis­cov­ered that it was Stage 2B and that there were treat­ment op­tions avail­able, in­clud­ing chemother­a­py and ra­di­a­tion.

Through prayer and fur­ther re­search, I re­gained a sense of calm.

The first chemother­a­py ses­sion trans­formed my body en­tire­ly. I re­alised from that point on, things would take a turn for the worse. I be­came weak, my sense of smell in­ten­si­fied, and my taste buds changed, mak­ing it chal­leng­ing to main­tain a prop­er di­et. I ex­pe­ri­enced nau­sea, bloat­ing, and con­stant hunger.

Many foods tast­ed bit­ter to me, and some I could hard­ly taste, so I pri­mar­i­ly re­lied on fruits.

Even wa­ter be­came bit­ter to my taste. As I pre­pared for the next chemother­a­py ses­sion, I al­so be­gan ra­di­a­tion treat­ment. From that mo­ment, dizzi­ness and fa­tigue set in, my skin be­came dry, and the area re­ceiv­ing ra­di­a­tion dark­ened more than usu­al.

I strug­gled to con­cen­trate, and my vi­sion be­came blur­ri­er than nor­mal. The treat­ments were phys­i­cal­ly and emo­tion­al­ly ex­haust­ing, but my faith in God, along with the love and sup­port from fam­i­ly and friends, made it man­age­able. My nurs­es were not just care­givers; they were al­so co­me­di­ans, cheer­lead­ers, and con­fi­dantes all in one. Their hu­mour and warm smiles light­ened the tough­est days. The ra­di­a­tion staff were the kind­est and most pa­tient in­di­vid­u­als I have ever en­coun­tered.

There were days when get­ting out of bed felt im­pos­si­ble, and I want­ed to give up, but my mom and daugh­ter were there for me every step of the way. In qui­et mo­ments, I would re­mind my­self that God was with me. I would read Isa­iah 41:10, draw­ing strength to per­se­vere, day af­ter day. I re­call one morn­ing, halfway through my treat­ment, I found it dif­fi­cult to walk in­de­pen­dent­ly; my body felt in­cred­i­bly weak. I wept from home to the hos­pi­tal for ra­di­a­tion. I was on the verge of aban­don­ing the treat­ment, yet deep down, I un­der­stood that I need­ed to see it through to elim­i­nate the can­cer.

How­ev­er, my fam­i­ly and a close friend were by my side, hold­ing my hands and pray­ing with me, which helped me to dry my tears and muster the strength to walk in­to the ra­di­a­tion room. The jour­ney was chal­leng­ing, but with God’s help, the un­wa­ver­ing sup­port of my fam­i­ly and friends, and the courage I pos­sessed, I man­aged to per­se­vere.

Look­ing back, I know I didn’t face can­cer alone; God was with me and my fam­i­ly and friends

were my life­line. To any­one walk­ing this road, hold on to God and the peo­ple who lift you up.

You’re stronger than you think!

To every­one who stood by me–my God, my fam­i­ly, my friends and my med­ical team, Thank You!

Your love, prayers and sup­port car­ried me through. Grate­ful doesn’t be­gin to cov­er it.