A

Personal Testimony of Triumph

over

Breast Cancer

by

Anna M. Ashby-Caison

        I didn’t need the biopsy report to confirm my fear, nor the frighten look on the face of the technician who performed the mammogram. It was cancer. Of all the things I went through in my fight to survive; only one wrecked the most havoc to my self-esteem.

        It wasn’t the threat of having a breast removed, receding gums and rotting teeth, or the turning black of my finger nails. It was the thought of losing my hair that brought tears streaming down my face. My beautiful, natural curly, shinny black hair with beginning streaks of silver that my beautician said, "Baby, with hair like yours you don’t ever have to worry about going bald!"

        The first treatment began in November of 1994. For 40 minutes I sat in a reclining chair with an IV of cell killing drugs flowing through my veins. During the procedure all I could pray was "Lord, please don’t let me lose my hair." Each time I presented my petition before the Lord I saw Job sitting in sackcloth and ashes, baldhead, weeping over his calamities. I’d respond with a fervent cry, "Please-e-e in the name of Jesus, Lord don’t let me lose my hair!"

Within 3 weeks of the first treatment my hair began to fall out. Every morning my pillow looked as if it was growing a beard. No matter how gently I combed or lightly brushed my hair it came out in clumps. I remember one day in attendance at a seminar, I fought back tears as I tried to divert my attention back to the presenter and away from the falling wisps of hair descending from my head to the floor. The very thing that I feared the most would happen had begun.

With remarkable resilience, I bounced back from the vomiting and stomach wrenching pain experienced during the first seven days following each monthly treatment of chemo. Yet, every time I looked in the mirror at my balding and finally a completely bald head, I fell apart. I felt so humiliated. The bald head was proof that even though I struggled to be a good Christian, strived to be forgiving, didn’t mock or laugh at others’ misfortune, never smoked, drank, or did drugs, I was just as vulnerable to cancer as non-Christians and people who abused their bodies and broke the law. Why? Wasn’t I good enough? Had I earned the right not to be sick? Why had this horrible affliction come upon me? What did I do to offend God so, that He would allow this to happen to me?

        Since the chemotherapy left me often times nauseated and fatigue, my ministry as Praise & Worship Leader had been assigned to others. But on this particular evening the pastor asked me to lead devotion before we began our Ministers’ Meeting. I don’t remember the two songs I selected, but I do remember that during the second song I began to dance before the Lord. The heaviness that had surrounded me earlier had lifted. All I could feel was joy and gratitude for my life. I felt an increase of energy as I danced and sang unto the Lord. In the midst of my praise, whoosh! Off went my wig flying across the sanctuary. With my bald head exposed, I continued to dance and sing. It no longer mattered that my head was exposed. I wasn’t concerned about what people thought. One of the deacons tried unsuccessfully to withhold his laughter and two of the elder female evangelists shouted, "that’s all right you look better without the wig" and "you don’t need the wig, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed about." I heard them and yet I didn’t hear them. A peace came over me that I couldn’t explain. All I knew from that moment on was whether or not my life would be extended or shorten; I was going to live a life of Praise and Victory! I refused to let cancer rob me of enjoying life.

            A few days later I came across a familiar passage of scripture from the gospel of John I had forgotten. It was about the man who was blind from birth. Jesus’ disciples asked Him was this man blind because of his sin or the sins of his parents. Neither, Jesus replied, but that the works of God might be manifested. As I read that last verse, the words kept echoing in my mind. ". . . but that the works of God might be manifested . . . but that the works of God might be manifested . . . but that the works of God might be manifested." I perceived that God was telling me, the cancer in my body was not unto death and it was not because I hadn’t been good enough, but that God would be glorified as a healer of cancer! I shouted and praised God.

        Shortly after my third course of chemotherapy, I began to experience sharp chest pains and difficulty breathing. Upon examination I was admitted into the hospital. I was told by the attending physician that the chemo had shrunk a major blood vessel leading to my heart, and my EKG showed what they believed to have been a slight heart attack. As a result they were discontinuing chemotherapy and I had to remain in the hospital for a few days for some test to determine alternative treatment. I now had two battles to contend with, breast cancer and coronary heart disease resulting from chemotherapy.

It was finally decided that the only course of action available to me was to have the cancerous lump removed through surgery. However, there was now a high risk that I could bleed to death or have a fatal heart attack during surgery.

        The preparation for surgery was gruesome. As the nurse made an eighth of an inch puncture in my left wrist and inserted a narrow plastic spiked tube attached to an IV; I could feel the warmth of my blood gushing from my abdomen as a technician unsuccessfully tried to find an entrance to feed a monitor to my heart. Moving to my neck, several punctures were made in additional attempts to find a passage through which the monitor could be inserted. As blood oozed down my neck, I closed my eyes in an attempt to block out the pain. It was then that I began to understand with utmost gratitude the passion of what Jesus must have experienced when they drove nails through his wrists and thrust a crown of thorns upon His head that day on Calvary. He was pierced that I might have eternal life. And now I was being pierced to save my physical life.

Finally I was introduced to an elderly, slightly bent over Asian technician described by my nurse as an expert in his field. I was assured that if anybody could find a passage way to insert the monitor into my heart, he was the one who could do it. After examining the failed attempts of the younger technician, he decided to go through a vessel in my chest. Again, I braced myself for another round of pain by praising God. "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Thank You Jesus! Help him get this monitor inserted Lord! Help me!" The first two attempts to insert the monitor failed. I continued to pray. "Hallelujah Jesus! Praise your holy name! Lord help the technician get this monitor through my vessel and into my heart! Please Jesus, help us! Suddenly the old grey-haired technician shout, "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! It’s in place!" "Thank you Jesus" I cried, "Thank you Jesus."

        Early the next morning I was wheeled into surgery. My surgeon greeted me with a smile, "Everything is going to be all right Ms Ashby, just relax. When the technician places the mask on you, I want you to count backwards from 100." "100, 99, 98, 97 . . . . ."

        When I came to, my pastor was standing over me. I tried to talk, but each time I muttered a word, I passed out. The next day the doctor came to tell me the surgery was successful, and I could go home in a couple of days if there was someone to help care for me. I was released on Sunday Morning and in route home I stopped by the church to give a shout and a dance of victory unto the Lord.

I was age 39 when I discovered a lump in my breast. The year before my gynecologist gave me an appointment for a mammogram but I allowed myself to be dissuaded from taking it.

If you would like to receive this Testimony in booklet form to share with others, send an email request with your mailing address to  Anna M. Caison; RE: Losing Hair at:  acaison@christmadeknowninme.org

Feedback and Comments to this article are Welcomed!

Additional writings from Anna M. Caison can be found by clicking the following links: 

REHOBOTH: The Lord Has Made Room for Me!

A Resurrection Day Thought

Scriptural Truths concerning Christ & Homosexuals

Build My House!

I Just want Somebody to LOVE Me!

Walking on the Water with Jesus!

Meditations for Leaders in the Making

Coercive Persuasion & The Church