Homebound Healing

The 10th of April 2022 - Wrapped snugly in layers, I stepped off the plane and into a strikingly different environment than I was accustomed to. My breath crystallized in the frigid air while a shimmering blanket of snow enveloped me as it glistened in the sunlight. The exquisite scene mirrored the journey I was about to undertake – teaching my first M.Sc. Ecology course in Europe. As someone who had never contemplated visiting Sweden, this opportunity felt like an incredible dream.

As I adjusted to life in Umea, the melodious rhythm of the Swedish language captivated me, leaving me eager for each interaction with the friendly locals. Back home, sleep had often eluded me due to persistent hot flushes; here, I found solace in the icy nights where I could even leave the window open to let -2-degree Celsius air gently fill my room.

Among all the anticipated experiences, observing the northern lights cast their magical glow across a starlit sky ranked highest on my list. A scenic hour-long walk beside a serene frozen lake brought me to an idyllic viewing spot where those enchanting lights left an indelible and unforgettable impression.

At first, it was easy to strike a balance between work and leisure, driven by exciting opportunities for travel to Denmark and various Viking adventures. I chased these exhilarating plans while delivering engaging lectures based on my passion for insects and the ecosystem functions they facilitate. However, this thrilling narrative took an unforeseen turn that transformed my dream come true into a living nightmare.

One day, after a successful lecture filled me with pride and accomplishment, I headed home looking forward to a comforting meal. Amidst my happiness, a stabbing pain tore through my abdomen; overwhelmed by an anguishing intensity, my world went black as I crumpled onto the cold floor.

When consciousness returned with torment and nausea close behind, Unable to process the situation, I immediately sought help from my Swedish Postdoc adviser who rushed to take me to the emergency room. The frigid air was no match for the feverish heat coursing through me as we waited outside for my temporary personal ID. What followed were prying questions and invasive exams in a sterile environment that only deepened my anxiety. The doctors seemed doubtful about the cause of my torment and their probing gaze made every moment agonizingly uncomfortable.

Led through dimly lit halls with ominous signs hinting at solitary suffering, my mind raced with swelling dread. Hours later, with bleary eyes and tingling nerves, I listened intently as the doctor broke the news: fibroids and a cyst, accompanied by a dangerously large solid pseudopapillary tumour on my pancreas. The surgery required to address this looming threat was inevitable—something I had never considered or prepared for.

Overcome with confusion and despair as dreams crumbled in this frozen utopia, I found myself struggling alone with an uncertain future. My once-promising journey now threatened to end too soon. I called for a sister to help me get a cab home. As I uttered those words, I wished that the cab would somehow unfold a magical portal that would transport me straight into my mother's arms. How would I face such an ordeal without her by my side?

As if life hadn't dealt me a hard enough blow, the cab driver took advantage of me, a foreigner fresh out of the emergency room. He robbed me of 80 Swedish Kroner in change for the ride. At 5 am, I found myself back in my room—a space I had earlier thought would be my last refuge. Feeling crushed and hopeless, I contacted my advisor via WhatsApp and filled her in on everything since she left me at the hospital. I expressed my desire to be alone for the day.

Lying in bed, numb and lost amid turbulent thoughts, I questioned my fate. Was this how my life would end just two days after my 32nd birthday? Would I soon join my aunt, uncle, and best friend in the afterlife? Doubts about the certainty of a benign tumor based solely on CT scan images clouded my mind. Above all, I yearned for my mother's support.

The ringing of my phone snapped me back to reality—it was a call from the surgeon's office that I'd forgotten was scheduled. They asked if I could come in to meet with the chief surgeon. Nervously, I pulled myself together and showered, despite worrying that I might pass out again.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I informed the front desk about my appointment with the chief surgeon. The receptionist guided me to a small room and instructed me to wait. The surgeon entered shortly after and greeted me warmly before discussing his experiences working in South Africa and asking about mine in Sweden. Gradually, he approached the subject of my situation, requesting that I recount my distressing story—an event I loath to relive. He clarified my scans further and informed me of an urgent need for surgery.

Although confident that my tumor was benign, he couldn't be completely sure without a biopsy. Plus, if it remained untreated, there was a high probability that it could develop malignancy. He needed to book me in for surgery as soon as possible. Stunned, I blurted out, "I can't do that to my mother!" The prospect of facing such a major procedure without her was overwhelming. I weakly whispered, "I want to go home."

The surgeon reassured me with an alternative: if I could return home within a week, he would refer me to a specialist in Cape Town who could handle my case. He promised to have his office send the referral letter and medical files within a day or two.

When I returned to my room, I went straight to bed—exhausted yet seeking solace. I turned to TikTok in search of others facing similar challenges. For hours, I scrolled through profiles of individuals confronting various life-threatening conditions.

Ultimately, I found the courage to share my situation with loved ones back home. Travel arrangements were made and soon enough, I was on a flight returning to familiar grounds. As I stepped into Cape Town International Airport on May 10th, my spirit was battered but resolute. There she stood—my mother's comforting presence enveloped me like a soothing salve on an open wound. For the first time in what felt like eternity, I believed with certainty that we would overcome this ordeal together.