After the diagnosis, the journey continues
There is something deeply unsettling about waiting for answers you already sense exist…especially when someone else is holding them.
After Jean’s biopsy, the urologist had originally asked us to return in six weeks. It seemed simple enough. We’d wait, recover, and find some kind of footing in the strange new rhythm our lives had taken on. Then, the very next day, everything shifted. The doctor’s rooms called. He now wanted to see Jean in one week.
My instincts sharpened immediately. I asked directly for the results. The subject was changed.
THE WAITING BEGINS
Over the days that followed, Jean phoned the rooms repeatedly, hoping to reach the doctor himself. Each time, there was another reason. He’s busy. He’s unavailable. He’ll call you back. But no call came.
The silence became its own kind of diagnosis.
Anyone who has waited for medical results knows what the mind does in that space. Stories form quickly where clarity should be. Fear arrives quietly. You begin imagining outcomes before facts have even arrived. Our family felt it too. That tension just beneath the surface, the questions no one could answer.
I grew increasingly frustrated. The doctor had asked for an earlier appointment, yet his rooms couldn’t confirm the day or the time with any certainty. There was no date. No clarity. Just more waiting. And I felt, deeply, that this was unfair. Not just to Jean,but to all of us. Prolonged uncertainty is not a neutral thing. It drains energy, feeds anxiety, and leaves people suspended between hope and dread in a way that serves no one.
In my mounting frustration, I suggested a phone consultation instead of waiting indefinitely for an appointment that had no confirmed place in time. It felt like the right thing to do …. for Jean’s peace of mind, for our family, and honestly, for mine.
And yet , even as I was advocating and pushing and feeling the weight of it all, something quieter was running underneath. Something I could not fully explain.
I already knew Jean was going to be okay.
Not because the facts said so. Not because a doctor had reassured me. But because of faith…and a whisper I can only describe as coming from God, telling me that Jean would come through this. Healed. And different.
I held onto that while the world around us stayed uncertain.
LIVING BEYOND FEAR
Eventually, while I was driving to meet someone about my old car, the urologist finally called. Jean was at home, so I redirected the doctor to Jean’s number. A short while later, we had our answer.
Jean has prostate cancer.
But it was not the devastating outcome we had feared. The cancer appeared to have been present for a very long time. Importantly… it was low grade. The best of the bad news. Oddly enough, there was relief in finally knowing, because uncertainty can sometimes feel heavier than truth itself.
CHOOSING OUR OWN PATH
The conversation with the urologist was conducted by phone…what I had pushed for, because waiting without a confirmed appointment felt unethical to me. Unfair to a man who deserved clarity, and to a family who deserved to breathe.
The doctor explained his preferred approach. Advanced robotic laser procedures to carefully remove the cancer. We appreciated his calmness and his professionalism. Jean explained, as he had before, that he was not comfortable with traditional aggressive treatments. To the doctor’s credit, he did not press the issue. That mattered enormously to us.
By then, Jean had already committed himself to something different: natural living, nutrition, functional medicine, hydration, movement, reducing inflammation, and tending to his emotional wellbeing. A path rooted in our values, in research, in a genuine desire to support the body properly rather than simply attacking the disease.
One thing we quickly discovered is that when the word “cancer” enters a conversation, everyone has advice. Mostly, people mean well. We learned to listen graciously, thank them sincerely… and then quietly continue following the path we believed in. Because healing is deeply personal.
FAITH
What carried us most during this time was faith. Not the performative kind. The quiet kind, the kind that steadies you at 3am when your mind wants to spiral back into fear.
Prayer became part of every day. Meditation. Gratitude. Stillness. And the support that poured in from friends, family, people from our church, it humbled us. Messages, prayers, concern. I realized, in a way I hadn’t fully before, how deeply loved Jean truly is.
Somewhere in the middle of all this uncertainty, my love for him reignited too. Not dramatically. Just deeper. More conscious. More tender. Illness has a way of stripping life back to what really matters.
LIVING BEYOND FEAR
Despite everything hanging over us, Jean remained remarkably calm. Instead of withdrawing, he slowly began reclaiming his life. He adjusted to the leg catheter with far more dignity than either of us expected. He returned to work, doing installations for the décor company he contracts to. His clients had waited for him because, as they put it, “only Jean knows how to do it properly.”
That simple statement lifted him enormously. Purpose matters …especially to a 72 year old man who finds himself suddenly vulnerable in ways he never imagined.
SMALL CHANGES
At home, things continued to evolve quietly. Jean began journalling : tracking his water intake, what he ate, his daily habits. The changes were gradual and then, almost without noticing, they weren’t small anymore. He lost weight. His flexibility improved. His mobility improved. His energy shifted. And perhaps most significantly……his mindset changed.
We replanted our vegetable boxes. Spinach. Cruciferous veg. lettuce. Herbs. Simple, grounding acts. There is something deeply healing about putting your hands back into the soil when life feels uncertain.
A close friend from Johannesburg shared the story of her husband, who had walked a similar road and found his way through natural interventions , a 12-strain pre- and probiotic, tree spinach, nutritional healing. It encouraged us enormously. Jean responded positively, as he has to so much on this path.
A DIFFERENT ENERGY IN OUR HOME
There is a very different feeling in our home now. Not denial. Not fear. Something quieter. A sense of hope, conviction, renewed purpose. Jean is back working. Living normally. Laughing more. Even Thomas the cat rarely leaves his side.
I often find myself returning to the moment I insisted on taking Jean back to hospital that final time, despite being advised otherwise. Something opened the path for us that day. Traffic cleared unnaturally fast. Doors opened. Things aligned. Call it intuition. Call it faith. Call it guidance from above. I trust it completely.
On the 25th, Jean goes for further CT scans and PSA blood tests. We will see what they reveal. But this time, we wait differently. Calmer, stronger, more informed. And strangely, more grateful too.
Because this journey has not only changed how we view health. It has changed how we view life itself.
If this story has resonated with you : whether you’re navigating a diagnosis, supporting someone you love, or simply curious about a more natural, intentional approach to health , we’d love to share more of what we’ve learned. Reach out. Ask questions. You don’t have to walk this alone.