Survivor Stories
Standing Strong Together: How Love Carried Us Through Cancer
When my husband's diagnosis changed everything, I learned that courage comes in many forms
By
Mary Ezebor
on
Jul 23, 2025
But the hardest part wasn't the medical challenges or the financial strain. It was watching the man I fell in love with—vibrant, ambitious Emeka who could fix anything and make anyone laugh—struggle with feeling like a burden.
The Day Our World Changed
The fluorescent lights in Lagos University Teaching Hospital buzzed overhead as we sat in the oncologist's office, our hands intertwined like a lifeline. Dr. Adebayo's words seemed to float in the air: "Stage three colorectal cancer." I watched my husband Emeka's face drain of color, but somehow, I felt a strange calm settle over me. This wasn't the end of our story—it was just a difficult chapter we would write together.
That evening, as Emeka stared silently at the ceiling of our Ikeja home, I made a decision. I would become his anchor, his strength, and his hope when his own ran dry. I didn't know then that caring for someone with cancer would teach me more about love than twenty years of marriage had. The woman who had once worried about burnt rice and traffic jams was about to discover reserves of strength I never knew existed.
Learning to Navigate the Storm
The months that followed blurred into a routine of hospital visits, chemotherapy sessions, and sleepless nights. I learned to read the subtle signs—when Emeka needed space to process his fear, when he needed me to hold him while he cried, and when he needed me to be strong enough for both of us. Our savings dwindled as we traveled between Lagos and Ibadan, seeking the best care we could find.
I became fluent in medical terminology I never wanted to know. I learned to prepare meals that wouldn't upset his stomach during chemo, to massage his feet when the neuropathy made walking difficult, and to smile when visitors came, even when I had been crying in the bathroom moments before. Our families rallied around us—my mother moved in to help with the children, his brothers took turns driving us to appointments, and our church community brought meals and prayers.
But the hardest part wasn't the medical challenges or the financial strain. It was watching the man I fell in love with—vibrant, ambitious Emeka who could fix anything and make anyone laugh—struggle with feeling like a burden. "I'm not the man you married," he whispered one night after a particularly difficult day. "You are exactly the man I married," I replied, "and you're also the man who's fighting the hardest battle of his life. That makes you even more remarkable."
Finding Strength in Unity
Eighteen months after that devastating diagnosis, we sat in the same hospital, but this time Dr. Adebayo was smiling. "Complete remission," she said, and I felt Emeka's hand squeeze mine with a strength I hadn't felt in months. The journey had changed us both. I had discovered that love isn't just about the beautiful moments—it's about choosing each other every day, especially when those days are filled with uncertainty and fear.
Today, three years later, Emeka is back to his old self, though we both carry the wisdom that comes from facing mortality together. We've started a support group for couples dealing with cancer, meeting every Saturday in our church hall. I watch new faces arrive, wearing the same expression of overwhelm and determination I once wore, and I share what I learned: that sometimes the greatest act of love is simply showing up, day after day, holding space for someone else's pain while nurturing your own hope.
Our marriage didn't just survive cancer—it was transformed by it. We learned that true partnership means taking turns being strong, and that love, when tested by the hardest circumstances, can emerge even more resilient and beautiful than before.
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