Her Voice Her Strength

Dear kind reader,

How are you? I hope this letter finds you well, and that you found comfort or encouragement in my previous blog.

Before diving into today’s reflections, here’s a quick recap:

In my last post, I shared the emotional storm that followed after the breast cancer diagnosis — and the pressure to undergo a mastectomy. I opened up about the pain caused by dismissive comments like “It’s just a breast,” and how deeply I resisted the idea that surgery was my only option. My search for alternatives, like cryoablation, became a battle for autonomy, hope, and reclaiming my voice in the midst of medical noise and emotional chaos.

While many doors closed, I held onto prayer and persistence.

Now let me share what unfolded next…

The Tattoo I Never Thought I’d Get

It was the end of December 2022 when I did something I never imagined I would: I booked a second tattoo appointment. It was to get a lion on my left forearm, paired with the scripture Revelation 5:5 — “The Lion of Judah.”

It wasn’t just ink. It was a cry. A marking of everything I had been surviving but hadn’t yet said out loud.

For years, I’d stayed away from tattoos, always avoiding them out of reverence for the teachings of Leviticus 19:28. But by the end of 2022, I was unraveling. A year filled with workplace struggles, battles, harsh treatment, and feeling dismissed by the NHS had worn me down. And the emotional storm and weight of a cancer diagnosis had taken its toll. Something inside me finally snapped.

I became a little “rogue,” piercing my ears repeatedly, hoping the physical pain would numb my emotions. It was like I was pinching myself just to say, this can’t be real. Sitting in the tattoo chair felt like an escape — a few hours where the pain was on my terms. It became my silent protest to God: You’re not listening to me? Well, this is how I will cope.

I chose my left arm because that’s where the cancer was on my left breast. Somehow, I rationalised keeping my right arm tattoo-free—after all, “God holds me with His righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10). Wild thoughts, I know. But at that point, everything felt like a way to keep some sense of control, to carve out meaning in a world that had felt so out of my hands. I planned to return in January for a second session. But did that tattoo ever get finished?

A Word of Warning or Divine Intervention?

Later in December 2022, I took my mum to a friend’s prayer gathering. Their pastor, unaware of my situation, suddenly said something about needing to remove my piercings and tattoos. I wasn’t even paying attention — I had NSPPD prayer session playing in earphones, I was listening to my own prayer stream.

How did he know about the tattoos? Was it the Holy Spirit? I wondered. But honestly, I didn’t care at that moment. I was still planning to finish the forearm tattoo at the end of January 2023. My faith was messy — numb, bitter, and hardened. But I kept praying. Even in the chaos, I kept talking to God, though often with anger.

Fasting: The First Time I Truly Committed

In January 2023, I tried something new — a 3-day water fast I discovered through someone I bought exotic fruits from on Instagram. The creator of this fast checked in on me regularly, and he shared something simple but effective: if I felt dizzy, the best thing to do was to sleep, drink water, and rest. I took his advice to heart. Mind you, this was the first time in my life that I ever took fasting seriously, and it was harder than I had imagined.

On the last day of the fast, a friend asked me to drive her near Gatwick to handle some things. It was a long drive, and I felt weak, but I had this deep-rooted need to please others, even when I was struggling. So, I took her — with my dog in the car. It was tough, but I realised something: when you’re fasting and physically weak, it’s hard to stay angry. It takes too much energy. I broke the fast with fruit and felt surprisingly refreshed. But despite that, the lump in my left breast was still there.

Soon after, NSPPD began their own fast until the end of January 2023, and a local church I attended also started a fasting program, which I joined. I continued my routine—I was waking up for 5:00 a.m. prayers with the church, attending a Bible study via Zoom on Monday evenings, hitting the gym four times a week, and diving into a book called The Power of Your Subconscious Mind. I kept my Bible by my side to double-check the scriptures mentioned in the book (though I later discovered that the author was linked to Masonry—always research the book and its writer!).

I was doing the most, but was I doing enough for me?

A Second Opinion—or So I Thought And Another Refusal

By mid-January, I finally had my private consultation at The Shard. The consultant—the same one who had briefly spoken to me over the phone in December 2022—was direct, almost clinical, in her approach. She was firm in her stance: I needed a mastectomy.

According to her, the nipple was infected, the surrounding skin was too compromised, and there wouldn’t be enough healthy tissue left to preserve the nipple for immediate reconstruction. Sorry, what??? Her words hit hard. I sat there, stunned. How could she speak with such certainty—without even examining me in the moment? Everything she said was based on the NHS reports I had already lost trust in.

I didn’t come here for a recycled opinion. I pushed back. I asked for a fresh ultrasound, new biopsies, and an updated mammogram—basic steps, I thought, for a true second opinion. She refused.

Just like that, I was dismissed again.

In all of this I felt like I was shouting into a void. At a time when everything should’ve felt more certain—when I was actively trying to take control—I was met with more confusion, more waiting, and more decisions made about me, not with me.

I went home angry — but I didn’t stay silent. I wrote an email to the consultant’s secretary, asking her to forward it on. In it, I stood up for myself, clearly explaining why I deserved fresh testing. I wasn’t just advocating for my health — I was also hoping to see if my prayers and fasting had shifted anything in the spiritual. Eventually, the consultant agreed — not warmly, not graciously, but she agreed. She scheduled me for an ultrasound and three biopsies, but refused to authorise a mammogram, citing radiation exposure limits. As the mammogram I had at the NHS hospital apparently hadn’t yet reached the one-year mark.

Now, you might be thinking: “So she could advocate for herself like that, but couldn’t even say no to a friend while she was weak and fasting?” And you’d be right. It sounds contradictory, but that’s the truth. I’m still learning. Navigating friendships and people isn’t easy. Boundaries aren’t easy. But my prayer in 2025 — and moving forward — is that God continues to show me how to protect my heart, to walk with wisdom, and to grow in discernment when it comes to people.

And just when I thought I was finally standing up for myself… another wall. My health insurance hadn’t fully kicked in yet. I was caught between systems — chasing approvals, emails, and call-backs. What I really needed in that moment was someone in my corner. Someone to help explain the complexities of a cancer diagnosis and treatment. But there was no one. No advocate. No translator for the medical chaos. No one checking in. Eventually, I got a claim number — but still, no dedicated breast cancer nurse. And that was supposed to be a standard — a support offered to every patient navigating this kind of journey.

When People Show Their True Colours

So I went for the scans and biopsies. The sonographer, almost incredulously, asked me why I was going through all this pain if the cancer was already so obvious. “What proof do you want?” he said. I just told him to do the biopsies and we’d wait for the results. He went ahead with the biopsies — through the nipple, the side of my left breast, and around the areola. The pain was sharp, deep. I won’t lie, it shook me. But I held it together, holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, the results would come back clean. That somehow, a miracle had taken place — and it wouldn’t be cancer after all.

While waiting for the results, I kept to myself. Still praying. Still gyming. Still reading. I wasn’t picking up calls like I used to, which led to a hurtful incident: a friend called me through another friend on a 3-way call just to catch me answering someone else. I found it manipulative. And yet… I kept speaking to them both — separately.

It’s weird how I can cling to people who hurt me but struggle to hold on to God.

Jeremiah 1:8 says:

“Do not be afraid of their faces, For I am with you to deliver you,” says the Lord.

But I wasn’t feeling delivered. I wanted to believe, but my heart wasn’t there yet.

Conversations With God And The Question Of Blame

By late January, I was emotionally unraveling. I told a friend’s mum, “Why does God hate me? Why give me this shame?” Her response was, “This isn’t God. This is the enemy.”

She then connected me with a family friend who had also battled breast cancer. When this friend came to visit, she shared that she had been praying for me in her prayer group. But she also relayed something that someone in the group had said: “This person we’re praying for doesn’t love God.” I was taken aback. And to my own surprise, I admitted, “I don’t love God. How can I love a God who feels so distant in my pain?”

That comment lingered with me—not just because of what was said, but because of the tone behind it. Why would anyone say such a thing? Is it really necessary to highlight whether someone openly loves God, especially in a moment of suffering? I couldn’t help but feel that it was a harsh thing to say, especially in a setting meant for intercession and compassion.

Even if someone is struggling in their relationship with God, shouldn’t that be all the more reason to pray? After all, love didn’t start with us. As 1 John 4:10 says, “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”

In the midst of all the breast cancer diagnosis noise, confusion, and refusals, something unexpected lingered with me: regarding that conversation with the family friend.

She had shared how she, too, had once been angry with God—how she wrestled with the same questions, the same silence. But then, over time, she said her perspective began to shift. She didn’t say it like a cliché. It wasn’t a “just pray more” kind of moment. She was real. And I respected that. But I wasn’t there yet.

Even now, in 2025, I still can’t confidently say this wasn’t God. I still sit with the tension. If He’s all-powerful and all-knowing… then why all the pain?

Still, there was something about her presence that gently pulled me into her community. She and my friend’s mum had their own quiet time of prayer each Tuesday evenings, and they invited me to join them. I didn’t have all the words. I didn’t even have all the faith. But I showed up—Tuesday after Tuesday.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to say I loved God. But I was willing to sit in the presence of those who still believed He loved me.

But… I will say this: the anger I had in 2023 has softened. I still pray. I still thank God for the little and big things. And I still ask Him to help me see Him clearly.

Then Came, The Results…

February 2023 arrived, and despite feeling numb, hurt, and betrayed by the friend I had chosen to stick with, she suggested I join the Hallelujah Challenge with Nathaniel Bassey. It took place at 11 p.m. UK time on YouTube. She explained, “All you do is dance as if you’ve already received your miracle. Dress how you would when giving your testimony. Sing and pray along as Pastor Nathaniel leads.”

In my mind, I thought, Well, I guess I should try this too.

So I joined. At that point, I was on so many prayer platforms, desperate for any sense of hope or comfort.

Then, just a couple of days after joining the Hallelujah Challenge, the results came back from the scans and three biopsies I’d had in January. Honestly, I thought three biopsies were a stretch. I wondered, Is this consultant being unnecessarily harsh? But, anyway, I went through with it.

It was my mum’s birthday—February 2023—when the consultant called me.

She asked, “Are you free?”

I replied, “I’m currently out for my mum’s birthday.”

She offered to call back, but I insisted, “No… I want to hear the results.”

Her voice changed, and she said, “Andréa, I don’t have good news. The cancer is now invasive. You still have traces of DCIS, and it’s HER2-positive. You’ll need chemotherapy first, then a mastectomy, and maybe radiotherapy. I will refer you to an oncologist.”

I froze. Screamed in my head.

All I could say was, “I see. Okay.”

I became agitated, but I held it in. I started rushing everyone to leave, wanting to drop my mum off quickly and go home to cry alone. I couldn’t hold it together much longer. The weight of it all hit me, and I found myself hastily trying to escape.

Some might think my behavior was crazy, but you know what’s crazier? A cancer diagnosis.

Lesson learned: If I’m not in a good mental place, I won’t try to please people by being around them. I’ll seek the right help, and God willing, He’ll provide the right people with good intentions. For now, my focus is on my own well-being.

That night, I cried. Alone.

So… What Happened Next?

Did I continue praying in prayer groups?

Did I keep going to the gym?

Did my tattoo appointment happen after that news?

When did I finally meet the oncologist?

To be continued…

Reflection Questions for You, Dear Reader:

1. Have you ever felt angry at God or disconnected from your faith? How did you process those emotions?

2. Do you find it difficult to let go of people who have hurt you emotionally? Why?

3. When you’re going through something painful, how do you cope—spiritually, emotionally, or physically?

4. Have you ever had to advocate for yourself in a medical or personal situation? What gave you the strength?

5. Do you have a community that supports you during difficult times? How do they help?

I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences. Share your reflections in the comments or reach out to me directly. Let’s continue the conversation and support one another.

Thank you so much for reading. If this post resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe, like, and share. Also, check out my YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@hervoiceherstrength

Warm wishes,

Andréa Xxx 💕