All it takes is for one person to act from their heart, and a wave is rippled across the globe. It can be felt by all, akin to the pulse of our blood vessels. It helps wake us in the morning. To move. To have faith – not in ourselves, but in the threads that bind us all together – in our shared humanity.
I was born in Mthatha in the Eastern Cape and moved to Cape Town at the age of 9 in 2007, where I was diagnosed with Stage 4 non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma – an aggressive blood cancer that had spread widely within my body. I was treated with chemotherapy at Red Cross War Memorial Children’s Hospital and was in a sustained remission since the end of 2007. I lived a healthy 12 years, spanning the transition from childhood to teendom, and then young adulthood where I had completed half of my studies as a medical student at Stellenbosch University. A life with cancer was but a flitter of a memory.
Mothers always know what’s up. A single glance at me after dinner one spring evening, and she’d asked me to check my temperature, claiming I looked “strange”. What I thought to be the beginning of a flu turned out to be the beginning of the most gruelling health journey I’d ever embarked on. A heightening fever and chills that Panado’s couldn’t stave off, a dry cough, and small lumps on my neck were the splitting image of my then distant childhood illness. And after a diagnosis of relapsed, stage 4 non-Hodgkins’s lymphoma at the age of 22, I was re-introduced to a world of chemotherapy, the prospect of shattered dreams, a troubled family, fear… and above all – faith. My only hope of any sustainable recovery was a bone marrow stem cell transplant.
Waiting for a match was not only a test of my faith in humanity, but also a series of hard reflections on my worthiness and the role I’ve played in the lives of those around me – the ‘waves’ that I had sent off into the world in the time I had been alive. Hearing that I had received a 10/10 match was an affirmation of my faith in humanity, and the distilled infusion of hope I needed to keep going. The physical preparation for the transplant had begun a week before my donor had even donated their stem cells. I endured an intense 1-week ‘conditioning’ regimen of chemotherapy, after which, in a coordinated global effort, the stem cells were flown over to Cape Town, hours after it was harvested from a facility in the chilly streets of Germany. Although the transplant itself took just over 30 minutes, life afterwards was a true test in stamina and resilience.
Recovering from chemo, and dealing with side effects from the transplant aside, I had the herculean task of picking up the pieces of my life. Rebuilding my physical strength, integrating into a new class at university, cultivating my hobbies and interests… It all seemed daunting, until I realised the beauty of the challenge lied in the fact that I had been presented with it at all. I was gifted with life – and the kaleidoscope of emotion that accompanies it. The chance to feel the balm of the sun and the pleasant chill of the breeze against my skin. To sing again, to hear music and even make my own! To fall in love. To endure heartbreak. To triumph. To fail.
After graduating as a medical doctor last December 2023, my illness has allowed me to see perspectives from both sides of the healthcare curtain. With firsthand knowledge of the life of a patient, I’m driven to be a doctor who treats empathetically, and holistically. The SABMR has facilitated my donor search and transplant logistics from start to finish and has been wonderful enough to be the middleman in my communication with my donor, who I will soon, after three years now, finally have the privilege of meeting! As a South African, I was lucky enough to find a full match from a foreign country, but it fills my heart with much dread knowing that the pool of donors in our homeland remains so limited. It is true, all our futures are uncertain, but let us not deny the futures of the many South Africans who currently suffer and will suffer from life-altering blood cancers in the future. I urge every person who reads this, especially my fellow people of colour, to sign up to be a stem cell donor, and gift a fellow human with the hope of life, and all that comes with it.
When many act from their hearts, the waves coalesce, and our world is enveloped in the force that has driven us all this far – hope. Hope that we can usher in a future where our collective mistakes are learned from. Where we can do and be better. Where everyone, like me, is given a gift so precious that it can scarcely be described with words – the gift, of another chance.