Mimosa Pudica Tea

One Sunday morning, in a large, quiet, air-conditioned classroom, 8 chairs were dragged to the center.

“Cancer was a name, a scourge that stole my joy,” Vivienne told the cancer survivors group. They call it a support group.

My name is Vivienne, you already know me. What you don’t know is that I have a scar on my stomach because I once had colon cancer and a painful biopsy when the doctor took samples from my spine. Now I have recovered and become, like you, a cancer survivor.

My name is Roxy. I once suffered from an autoimmune disease that developed into skin cancer. But now I have been healed by the power of Almighty God. I’m here to join you in a support group.

My name is Oliver. I have lymph cancer. I don’t know how I survived that stage, but here I am still breathing. Maybe it was a miracle through the hands of doctors. I need to be here, to support others in need.

My name is Amanda. I lost my uterus due to cervical cancer which spread to my uterus. I had a total hysterectomy, but now I am fine and as healthy as can be. I have accepted what happened to me. I am here to find my purpose, to support others.

After the next four people introduced themselves, Vivienne held the microphone again.

“Thank you for your decision to take part in this movement. We are here to support our friends who are still fighting.” “To be here is to breathe, you can call today a miracle, a future gift, good karma from past deeds, a victory over a monster. You can call it your own version. We are cancer survivors!” Vivienne said.

“Today I will give each of you a profile of a patient who gave us the time to meet them.” Vivienne said. “They have precious time with their family members, but we were given 30 minutes to show our concern.” She added. “Are you ready for this?” Vivienne asked aloud.

“Yes!” Oliver replied. “Yes!” Roxy cheers! “Of course yes!” Amanda cheered. The rest also cheered at their readiness to make an impact.