By Elena Ang

Since my childhood days I’d always dreamed of acquiring a college degree when I grew up and being a successful professional one day. By a twist of fate, I failed to realize it due to financial constraints. Mother left us for her final resting place when I was barely six years old. At the age of thirteen, I took the yoke of caring for my sick father and three siblings. Though financially drained, I insisted on finishing high school without my father’s approval. Painfully, I recall those times I was driven out of the classroom for failure to settle school financial obligations. I reported to class on an on-and-off basis. I used to leave the classroom with a heavy heart, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Playing the triple role of father, mother and big sister to three small boys wasn’t an easy game. Herding them to bed at night like motherless lambs, not knowing where to get their next meal the following day, shattered me into pieces deep inside. “If I could only provide them with better things in life,” I always told myself.

Then I came to a point where I could no longer hold on to my faith. Desperate, I said to myself, “If God does really exist, then He is a fake God, an uncaring God, a selective God. The chosen few enjoy extravagant food, enjoy themselves in excessive riches, while the vast majority are suffering from hunger and want. Where is fairness then? Where is justice? He plays favorites.” I blamed Him for the misfortunes that befell our family, held Him responsible for everything. While He was the unseen opponent, I was the desperately mad accuser. All I learned about Him in school and read in the Bible, I put aside. The God I earlier believed in was a jet-setting God who was on a long vacation, because He was nowhere to be found when I needed Him the most.

I am nothing

At the brink of despair I contemplated ending my life. But something from within reminded and jolted me to a sudden awareness that it was a dirty act, a grievous sin and that it offered no solution to problems at all. It was sheer cowardice. Then late one night, I once again confronted God and challenged Him to a “one-on-one” talk to clear matters up once and for all. Tears freely running down, I did all the accusing once again, heaping all the faults I could think of on Him. Then through the sound of silence, the words of Jesus from the gospel of John reverberated from within: Without me, you can do nothing.

Restored

Now, all I could remember was cooling off, my strength gradually ebbing, bringing my whole weight down to the floor and my chin settling comfortably on my arms. I found myself in that position upon waking up, as if I were a child, crying on the bosom of a caring parent. After that, I went to a lengthy confession. I attended Mass, went to Communion regularly to feed my long-starving soul. Yes, I needed Him. I had gone hundreds of miles away from God but took only one step back and He was there. He welcomed me back into His fatherly arms.

Indeed things happened for a reason. God did not cause my misfortunes. He did not send me the problems. He gave me strength to cope with them. Little did I know that those years of suffering would prepare me for another major test that I was yet to pass.

Late August 2001, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Unfazed and undeterred, I talked to myself right after I learned of my plight, “Keep calm. Don’t panic.” I took things in stride, never considered it a case of life against imminent death but just a simple race where only a matter of guts and courage was called for. Most cancer patients I had known feared death like hell. Then I thought, “Strange – everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die.” Yes, cancer was in me. But I couldn’t get rid of it that easily, much less run away from it. Self-pity would not pay off. And I would not let fear stand in the way of living life to the fullest. Life goes beyond cancer!

My happy-face approach

Upon learning I had this dreaded disease in me I gave myself a briefing, warning my entire system to behave well, never to go erratic, particularly my immune system because if it does and goes wild, all other systems like the nervous, digestive and circulatory, will follow suit. Now, if I can talk to my orchids, sing and hum songs to them, why can’t I do that to my body parts? I passed the time doing little things. I sang songs, read books, wrote letters to friends of yesteryear, amused with jokes people around me, especially those sporting Holy-Week-Looks.

During the course of my hospitalization, I got upset only once, when I saw my brother crying at the corner of the hospital room, probably moved emotionally at my plight. I told him to pray instead of crying, for tears would not help me get well.

Thy will be done

On September 7, I underwent a four-hour operation. On the operating table I talked briefly to my surgeon then said, “Lord, please do the rest. I will do my best.” I am not used to reciting kilometric prayers. Total surrender to the will of God is a very wonderful and wholesome experience. I find complete peace of mind in it. After five days of rest, I was fully awake and in high spirits. Painless! I didn’t feel I had just been through a major operation. Fronting my bed was a crucifix on the wall. I took a long, meditative look at it and I found neither a symbol of gloom nor doom, but of light and life. It’s a PLUS sign. Victory! Resurrection!

After those trying and painful experiences in the past and as a breast cancer survivor lately, I have learned to steel myself against the cruel realities of earthly life. With God’s grace and the endless support of my siblings, friends, and all those around me, those who shared their blessings, offered prayers, sent words of comfort and encouragement through letters, cards and long-distance calls, those who paid me visits in the hospital and at home, and all my doctors, I have learned to survive. I have learned to live too with my cancer and will love it until it hurts as my partaking of Christ’s journey to Calvary and His crucifixion.