His Light Shined, and Now I'm Ready to Talk About It

One year ago today, at 22 months old, Zion was rolled away from me on a hospital bed as the doctors prepared to remove what they believed was a cancerous testicle from his little body. It all started when the previous week, he ran a 105.7 fever. After a few phone calls to the ER, we were told to bring him in, and we spent Wednesday night/Thursday morning at the hospital.


At the hospital, the doctors used two catheters on Zion to test for a urinary tract infection. After a few more tests, we were released to go home. They gave Zion some fever medicine, and that was it. Thursday evening, he kept saying, “Ouch, pee pee ouch.” We don’t use “pee pee” to describe penis, so we assumed that he was saying that when he used the bathroom, or “pee peed,” it hurt. We just thought he was sore from the catheters.

 The next day, Friday evening, KB called me at basketball practice and told me to come home right away because Zion was rolling around, screaming in non-stop fits of pain on the floor. At this point he’s grabbing himself, crying “Pee pee ouch!”

 We headed back to the ER. Have you ever been to an ER on a Friday night? It was jam packed and everyone’s wait was long, hours long; however, everyone didn’t have a kid screaming at the top of his lungs, “Ouch, pee pee ouch!” People did seem to be concerned and not agitated, though. We were asked a few times, “There’s nothing they can give him?” or “They haven’t called y’all back, yet?” KB and I even contemplated just taking him back home. I’m so thankful that we did not! I think eventually, maybe after two hours or so, the ER staff felt sorry for us and let us skip ahead of people.

 More tests were run, this time a few scans of his private areas were taken. We retold our story a thousand times, and all of the doctors just seemed puzzled. We were then admitted for a hospital stay and given a room. We still didn’t know what was wrong. Saturday morning came, doctors and interns were in and out. We thought we were staying another night, but that afternoon we were released to go home and told to come back Wednesday. Huh?

Wednesday, Zion was feeling fine, as if the previous events never happened. I took him to the Children’s Hospital at Duke, only to receive the shocker of my life.

 The doctor, in a very sensitive and compassionate way, told me that Zion has what appears to be a cancerous growth on his left testicle. In fact, it’s actually bigger than what it was Saturday, and Zion needed surgery immediately, as in tomorrow. I was too shocked to have any outward show of emotion. What?!? Huh?!? 

The doctor proceeded to show me the scans of Zion’s body. Apparently, cancerous cells have a glow to them, and as the doctor pointed out, and I was a witness to, one of his testicles was glowing, but the other was not. Additionally, the glowing testicle was obviously bigger than the other. The doctor continued, saying that a team of doctors had met several times to review Zion’s scans, and they were all baffled because they had never seen testicular cancer in a 22 month old before.

 I just started praying. Still no other emotion.

 We couldn’t get Zion’s surgery scheduled for the next day so we had to go with Friday, December 7th. I’m not one to trust doctors right away because I’ve been misdiagnosed several times. And my life would be extremely different had I listened to and followed the direction of my first diagnoses. Thus, I wanted a second opinion; however, did we have time for a second opinion? It seemed as if the doctor would have operated that afternoon had a room been available. And the growth had already gotten larger in four days. Everything was just happening all too fast!

 I called KB to tell him the news. We called our families and basically tried to downplay the situation, and we prayed. We emailed our close friends asking for their prayers. All we had was our faith. Knowing that we serve an awesome and amazing God kept us from losing our minds.

I tried to go to work Thursday and focus. I was fine until one of the guidance counselors randomly came to check on a few students. He and I have worked together previously, and we have a somewhat close relationship. We started with small talk, and then I think he asked me how Zion was doing, and I had a break down. I was bawling so hard I couldn’t even talk—could barely breathe. He was like, “Ronda, oh my goodness what is wrong?!?” Bless his heart. I didn’t mean to do that to him. I’m sure I scared him to death. But I explained the story, and he convinced me to go home. Why was I at work anyway? Who is told that their child is having a major surgery to remove cancer, and then decides to go to work? Who does that?

 At home, I started to think and process what was actually happening. I realized that I didn’t want to tell more people about what Zion was going through, what we were going through, because I did not want people speaking that my son had cancer. I did not want people giving life to that belief. I started thinking about what it meant for my son to have cancer. I prayed. I didn’t even ask God to remove the cancer, to let it not be cancer, or to heal my child. I asked for His will to be done and to give me peace over whatever His will may be.

 Friday came, and I went back with Z for the surgery prep. My mom, dad, niece, and a church member were with KB and I. I held it together on surgery day until the doctors rolled Zion away from me. I came back out to meet my family, and just began bawling, again, on my mom’s shoulder.

 The surgery seemed to last forever. Finally, a doctor came out to give us an update. The doctor explained that the surgery went well. Tissue was removed from Zion and sent to the lab. The results showed that the tissue was non cancerous. Again the doctor was baffled because he was sure it was cancer. KB and I looked at each other. My first thought, honestly, was “You mean you just cut on my baby for nothing!?!” Since that moment, I’ve felt so guilty because I should have just been praising the Lord that my son didn’t have cancer and that he would keep both testicles. It was a miracle. Zion was going to be fine!

 I think KB and I were still in shock while the doctor was talking. We didn’t show excitement or sadness when he delivered the news. We were both in deep thought, still trying to process everything that was going on. We thanked the doctor, though, and at the follow-up appointment, I had KB reiterate our thankfulness and explain our lack of initial gratitude. We wanted him to know that we appreciated all of his work and care that he provided Zion.

 We took Z home from the hospital that afternoon, and he was fine, except that he attempted to walk and his legs were still numb. Trying to keep him still so that he wouldn’t hurt himself was hard work. But he was fine. The people who came to see him were expecting to find a sickly child, but Zion would have none of that. Kids are so resilient! God is good!

So one year later, I have decided to sing the Praises of the Lord that I/we didn’t sing before. Yes we were thankful, but when God shows up the way he did with Zion’s surgery, we have to be more than just thankful. We have to share our testimonies, giving glory to God. Our God is a healer, a way-maker, a provider, and much more. And had the outcome been different, and it was cancer, or had the circumstances been completely different and my son were no longer here, all of the above that I said about God would still reign true. My son has been nothing but a blessing since entering our lives. Whether he’s here only for tomorrow, a year from now, or a hundred years from now, I’m thankful for the time that God has allowed us to have with him. The truth is, life is short, and tomorrow is not promised to anyone-harsh but real. And I’m so thankful that my steps are ordered and that God is in control no matter what may come my way. Whether I agree with His choices or not, I find peace in knowing that man is not control of this world. God is.

 So I praise you, my heavenly father, for each minute of each day that we get to spend with Zion Elijah. He is first and foremost your son, and we are just here to prepare him for your Kingdom. I thank you for choosing us as his parents. Thank you for healing my son, when you didn’t have to. Thank you for allowing us to keep our faith and sanity during that trying time. Thank you for the doctors, our family, and our friends who showed so much love and support—who prayed for us.

 Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!

 With tears in my eyes at this very moment, I sing:
 Every praise is to our God.
Every word of worship with one accord
Every praise, every praise is to our God.
Sing hallelujah to our God
Glory hallelujah is due our God
Every praise, every praise is to our God.

 I love you!

Amen.