The Veil (9 page)

The summer went by quickly as Misha filled her time with work at the church, reading, and going to various places to preach. Fortunately, the incident at St. Paul's did not stop people from asking her to preach. Suddenly, she had become the star. The newspapers were calling her for interviews about being single and saved. She started to have her own little following of supporters, including her grandmother.

She made sure she took her grandmother with her everywhere she preached. She wanted to be sure she was walking in the will of God when she stood before the saints to share the Word. Afterward, she would spend hours talking with her grandmother not only about the sermon, but also about life in general. She enjoyed these moments and savored every minute.

School was scheduled to start in about a week for the teachers and the following week for the students. This meant one thing: time for her annual checkup. She wanted to make sure she was healthy before school started and she became exposed to the germs students always managed to bring to school with them. Although she knew she should have the exam done, she didn't like going through the process. It was a necessary evil.

It was the result of her HIV test that was most important to Misha. She started getting one every year before she met Roger. She wasn't exactly a saint then and she wanted to be sure she did not have the disease. So far, her results were always negative. As a matter of fact, she'd always managed to walk away with a clean bill of health. She only prayed this year would be the same.

Misha's doctor called her back into the office to tell her the results of her testing. She sat in a cold exam room, playing games on her smartphone while waiting for the doctor to come in. After a few minutes of waiting Dr. Wilson came into the room.

“Ms. Holloway, I'm glad you could come back to the office today.”

“I'm not so sure I want to be here. You've never called me back before.” She placed her phone in her purse.

“Well, I see you are anxious. I'll just get right down to it.”

Misha's leg shook in the chair as she watched the doctor move to the small sink and place her chart on the counter.

He lifted one page, then two. “Well, looks like your blood work is normal. The HIV test was negative. Blood pressure's okay.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“Your Pap smear shows some precancerous cells. It could be nothing. However, I want to investigate it more.”

“Cancer?” Misha slid to the edge of her chair.

“I'm not saying you have cancer, it could be nothing. But I would like you to see a specialist.”

“A specialist? Is it that serious?” The words felt stuck in her throat.

“Like I said, it could be nothing. Sometimes, it may be the test or the time we did the exam during your cycle, or you could only have a very serious infection that can be treated with antibiotics. The specialist will repeat your Pap test. She'll probably want to do a biopsy.”

“Biopsy? I'm going to need surgery?”

“The doctor we're sending you to can do the biopsy in her office. It won't take long. You won't need anesthesia. You'll be able to drive yourself home. But, I think this is something we need to look into further.”

“What if the biopsy comes back positive? What then?”

“Well, we'll wait until we get the results of the tests before we start speculating. Right now, we need to get you over to Dr. Trinidad's office. Janie is scheduling an appointment for you. She'll be in shortly to give you that information. Do you have any more questions?”

Misha shook her head no. But she had questions, a lot of questions.

“Are you sure? I want to be sure you understand what's going on.”

“No questions right now. I'll wait until I see Dr. Trinidad.”

“Very well. Janie will be right in.” He shook her hand as he walked toward the door. “Don't worry. I'm sure it's nothing.”

Nothing? Why did he call me in here for nothing?
Misha sat in the chair, trying to be strong but scared out of her mind. She began to talk to herself. “Cancer? I'm too young for cancer. I haven't even had children yet. Cancer? Not me. No, not me
.
”

The door opened and Janie, Dr. Wilson's nurse, walked in. She gave instructions to Misha and handed her all the referral paperwork. She was to see Dr. Trinidad later that afternoon. She patted Misha on the shoulder as they walked to the front desk for discharge, trying to assure her everything would be okay.

All the way home, Misha prayed. “I believe. I receive my healing. God, you are the healer. By His stripes I am healed.”

Whose report do you believe?
There was that voice again.
Whose report do you believe?

“God, I believe your Word. I believe I'm healed. Cancer cannot live in this body. My body belongs to you.”

 

 

Later that afternoon Misha sat patiently in Dr. Trinidad's office, waiting for the doctor to return. The biopsy was the most uncomfortable thing she had experienced. There was no anesthesia or pain medication. She could feel every cut and pull the doctor made. Now, as she sat in the chair, the cramps the doctor warned her about were hitting her hard. She searched her purse for some Tylenol to take but couldn't find any before the doctor walked back in.

“Here's some Tylenol. It'll help you with your cramps.” She handed her the pills and a small cup of water. “The cramping may last a day or two. We should get the results of your biopsy in about a week. I want you to come back in next week. I know you're anxious for the results. How are you feeling?”

“I'm cramping a little. Thanks for the Tylenol. Could you tell if anything was wrong? I mean, did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well, I did see a couple of spots. I biopsied them. We should get the results before you come back in. Right now, don't worry. If it's anything serious, we'll call you back in before next week.”

“School starts for teachers next week. Should I do any heavy lifting? I've got to get my classroom together before the students return.”

“You should continue like normal. I'm sure it will be okay. I'll see you back next week.” Dr. Trinidad walked toward the door.

Misha stood up but quickly sat back down as the pain of cramps filled her abdomen. She waited until it released its grip on her to stand and walk to her car.

“God, I believe you. I'm healed,” she repeated to herself. She turned the radio up louder as the sound of Marvin Sapp's worship melody filled her car. This time it didn't comfort her. This time it depressed her. Then, the voice, another voice, began to trouble her mind:

Tears ran down her cheek. “God, I believe, I receive my healing,” she repeated but the other voice was tormenting her. She made a decision not to tell anyone and believe God for her healing. She assured herself loudly in her car everything was going to work out all right.

 

 

The rest of the week Misha fought the negative voices in her head. At night, when she couldn't fall asleep, she played a CD she made with scriptures on healing. She decided to fast and pray for a good report. She continued with her daily routine, acting as if nothing was wrong. She avoided her grandmother because she couldn't hide anything from her. She went to school and attended all the teachers' meetings, district meetings, and the statewide meeting. She busied herself with decorating her classroom and didn't mention anything about the biopsy to anyone.

Finally, the day arrived for her to get the results of her testing. Trying to be positive, she kept telling herself everything was fine, especially since they did not call her back. She knew if anything was seriously wrong, they would have called her. She praised God for her healing. Sitting in her doctor's office she continually assured herself everything was fine. She repeated her healing scriptures in her head, assuring her everything was okay.

“Miss Holloway, how are you doing today?” Dr. Trinidad walked into the room and sat down behind her desk.

“A little anxious.”

“I understand. Well, we got your results. I'm afraid the news is not good. The pathology report shows the specimens we took last week were cancerous.”

“Oh.” Misha tried to look strong.

Whose report will you believe?
she heard in her spirit.

“Are you okay, Miss Holloway? Is there someone here with you? Miss Holloway.” Dr. Trinidad got up from her seat and shook Misha's shoulder. “Miss Holloway, can I get you some water?”

Misha came out of her intense stare and looked directly at the doctor. “What now?”

“Well, we have scheduled you for outpatient surgery. What I would like to do is go in and do a more thorough examination. It's possible, if the cancer has spread, we may have to do a complete hysterectomy.”

“Hysterectomy? You mean I won't be able to have children?” She placed her hand on her lower abdomen. “I'm only twenty-four years old. I've never been married. How can I need a hysterectomy?”

“Well, we don't know for sure. What we'll do is go in your naval and use a scope to examine your entire reproductive system, looking for cysts, lesions, or anything that looks unusual. Then, I'll go in vaginally and look for the same thing. I'll remove any lesions I see and we will biopsy them to see if they are cancerous and it will tell us if it has spread. If we have to do a hysterectomy, you'll be hospitalized for a few days.”

“Will I need chemotherapy or radiation treatment? Will I lose my hair?”

“We haven't gotten that far yet. Hopefully, since you have regular checkups, we only have a small spot to deal with and none of that will be necessary. Are you sure I can't get you anything to drink?”

“No, I'm fine. So when are you going to do the surgery? I'll have to notify the school. How long will I be out of work?”

“That depends on if you need a hysterectomy. If we have to do it, you'll be out about six weeks. If not, maybe a week. We have your surgery scheduled for Monday. You'll have to be at the hospital at six in the morning. You can't eat anything after ten Sunday night. The nurse will give you more instructions. You'll have time to talk with your family. If you want, I can talk to them with you.”

“No. I can handle it.” She took in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Surgery is Monday? I'll tell my principal tomorrow after the meeting in the morning. He'll need a note from you.”

“I will make sure you get what you need. Anything else?”

Misha shook her head no. She had enough that day. She couldn't take in anymore. She never would have thought she would be diagnosed with cancer at twenty-four.

Misha walked out to her car and began to drive around the city. It felt as if her life continued to fall apart. Just as she was getting over Roger and Bishop Moore, then her health got bad. She drove to her grandmother's house and slowly walked into the house. Tears ran down her cheeks at the first sight of her grandmother.

“Misha, what's wrong?”

“I got cancer.”

Her grandmother wrapped her arms around her. “Sit down. Calm down. Tell me 'bout it.”

Misha told her about the two biopsies and how she was going to have surgery on Monday. Misha cried harder when she told her grandmother she would not be able to have children.

“You tell your mama?”

“No, not yet. You know how she is. I need someone positive around me now. I need some intercessors to pray.” She leaned on her grandmother's shoulder.

“Child, not every sickness leads to death. That's what the Word say.”

“I know. What if—”

“Don't say it. You got the power to speak life. Watch what you say. What the Lord tell ya?”

“I'm healed.”

“Then whose report you believe, that doctor or God's?”

“I believe God.”

Her grandmother got up and went into the kitchen and returned with her slim bottle of anointing oil. She tipped the bottle, placing a small amount of the oil on Misha's forehead, and began to pray for healing. After her prayer, she sat beside Misha and wrapped her arms around her. “Lord, child, the enemy wants to destroy you to keep you from preaching the gospel. But, his plan is not gon' succeed,” she said as she turned Misha toward her. “You have a gift, a true gift from the Lawd. Peoples wit' yo' gift experience a lot of heartache. But God will see you through it all.”

She opened her Bible and showed her examples of prophets in the Bible and told her all they had to endure to deliver the Word. “This cancer is not gon' take yo' life. You have a lot to do. You got to pray hard. Pray for yo' life and pray fo' you child, one from yo' own body. You pray and I'll pray wit'cha.”

Misha left her grandmother's house feeling better but still filled with anxiety as she fought the negative voices in her head telling her she was going to die. She paced the floor and recited scriptures loudly in her apartment. “God, I believe you.” Just as she gained the strength to eat something, her phone rang. She eyed the caller ID. It was her mother. She didn't want to talk to her, but this time, she had to.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Well, you could sound happier to hear from me. Where have you been? I've been trying to call you all week.”