Remission

I thought of a million ways in which to start this and have failed to come up with something witty and engaging. Every August, I write something to commemorate Women’s Month. I write about women of the Bible. Women I know personally. Women who influenced me or changed my life. This year, on the brink of a new month, a new season, Spring knocking at our doors here in Gauteng, I am writing about me. My story. My journey. My testimony.

I’m in shock over so many things and not in a bad way. Shock at being the recipient of things, where I am at a loss to explain why I was on the receiving end.

In my world, anything and everything inexplicable can only be attributed to God. If you read a previous post of mine, The Crane Kick, I rambled on a bit about my Hashimoto’s diagnosis. The diagnosis came in February 2025, and I was confident that I was going to be in remission in 6 months.

That was the plan.  I am a planner kind of person. I try to be organised.

A personal planner.  A ‘family’ planner. I have a digital planner. I have a fridge meal planner. I have chalk paper on the walls in the kitchen, where we write down important things happening for the week. You might think I’m not spontaneous, but I can be pretty spontaneous in a book shop. Take me to one and give me your credit card and you will see spontaneity in action!

The plan started with the dietician.

An eating plan to address the autoimmune response.

This meant gluten free, diary free and sugar free. You are allowed to gasp in complete horror. The cost of giving up roti was something to cry over. A toasted mutton curry sandwich from Govender’s in Midrand.

That had to go. So did a toasted cheese with sweetcorn and mince on toast. Pizza. Out the door. A cup of steaming Milo with full cream milk in winter. Gone. Cream topped cappuccino. The Lindt shop became enemy number one. Ice cream and any form of Indian dessert from soji to vermicelli to gulab jamun. I could name a hundred different things that now fell into the NO-GO zone. Food could no longer be my source of comfort.

Next came the deep dive into traditional remedies that people have used for a good few millennia. If there is a natural cure for something I will try it as opposed to medication.  

My plan was to limit the intake of medication for the treatment of the Hashi’s.

Only what was necessary.

The most mentioned recipe in my searches was ‘bone broth’. The good old-fashioned remedy that is said to deal most effectively with inflammation. My first time trying bone broth was one I had bought from a health store. My immediate thought was it so horribly completely tasteless that I lamented for days spending R85 on it! I decided to combine a few recipes together and create my own. Tasted better, costs less and works too.

Some other remedies I tried was turmeric tea, made with almond milk, flinging in some cinnamon powder, cayenne pepper and ginger while it brewed. Honey and cinnamon tea. Honey instead of sugar. A lot of Woolworths mixed slaw. Red cabbage is apparently really really good for your gut.

I cheated once or twice with MacDonald’s and regret soon followed. Gluten free bread became the norm.

Planning of meals was priority. There was less likelihood of eating something that would cause me discomfort if I had my fridge and freezer stocked with things that suited my specific needs.

Exercise. Sheesh that word. I was the lucky recipient of a beautiful trampoline for Mother’s Day so rebounding became the thing. I learned how to do a good lymphatic drain massage for myself. The less I say about exercise the better. Moving on.

Managing stress was next. What should I do? Become BubbleLynne and avoid people completely? The thought was so tempting. There isn’t much of living you can do without stress. Not unless I move to the Bahama’s if I win the Powerball this weekend. Not very doable or practical. How do you love God and love Gods people if you avoid people?

I had to find deliberate ways to overlook certain things and people. I made big decisions to change certain interactions that caused me unnecessary stress. I removed myself from environments that did not serve me and my plan to remission. Am I stress free? Oh hell no. But it’s definitely better than it was six months ago.

The thing that wasn’t part of the plan was prayer. Not because prayer is not important but because prayer is an integral part of my life. It is not something I think about as needing to be diarised. I talk to God anytime I want to.

I grew up with a mother who constantly prayed. Walking downstairs, if I was up early as a teenager, I would find her on her knees praying before she left for work. I grew up in a church where it was not uncommon to attend a half night prayer meeting.  I might have dozed off but the diligent people who attended would pray for hours on end.

I pray. For myself, for other people, for situations, for miracles, for guidance- for anything really. I write down prayers requests in a journal. I write down when those prayers were answered. I go back and remind myself of all the times God has answered my prayers.

God knows what He will answer and what it He won’t and either outcome is fine with me. I asked people to pray for me. People who do set aside dedicated, planned prayer time to pray for people who have specific requests. People who are up at 3am interceding for others. My family and friends were praying. My church circle was praying - the church I attend and friends from other churches. I was reminded constantly that when I don’t have words to ask God to heal me, the Holy Spirit is interceding for me.

I remember standing in this spot talking to God and being completely at peace knowing that that God who created this, was the God who was in control of whatever lay ahead. How could I not trust Him?

Roland would present me with a scripture a day. He started with his own unique, quirky handwriting and has progressed to calligraphy!

A verse to meditate on. I started a journal where I could go back and remind myself about the promises in God’s word- speaking God’s promises on both the good and bad days. The days changed. He never does.

 Soon, the bad days became fewer, and the good days started becoming more frequent. Until I woke up ready to jump out of bed like the early bird that I am. Until I looked forward to jetting off to the office and presenting and planning and interacting with people again. Until I sat at the doctor for my most recent consult and I said, “I’m actually feeling really well.”

All scans and blood tests came back clear.

My dietician has cleared me to try roti again.

Man, oh man!!!! It’s like she gave me a gold bar.

My body is functioning in sync with medication and there are no obvious signs for concern. Nodes on my thyroid are benign. No need for further tests or intrusive procedures.

My doctor suggested upping my meds for good measure but when the blood results came back, she had to admit there was no need to change anything. The medical term for this is remission.

My term is a miracle.

“An extraordinary and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and therefore attributed to a divine agency.”  Not just any divine agency. My Father in heaven hearing the prayers of His children and working something miraculous.

You might say, “You said you take meds.”

"You tried natural remedies."

Yes, I did.

But there are also a thousand other people who did the same as I did (and more) but did not go into remission. There are thousands more who found nodes on their thyroid that were not benign. Another thousand who needed a thyroidectomy. And another thousand who are ingesting five times the dose of medication that I do.

I still have bouts of inflammation and days where I feel I should be resting. I go with what my body tells me. It means turning down invites. It means holding myself back from doing too many things. Today was one of those days. The draining tiredness that makes me weak and unable to function. Having to sit down in the middle of the mall because one more step and I might topple over. I am scrounging around to find the root cause for today and that just makes me even more tired.

Once again, I’m back to inexplicable. I cannot explain to you why there is a good God, and bad things and bad days happen. I cannot explain why the diagnosis remains, but I am in remission.

I know that there are people out there battling cancer and other dreaded diseases. I can’t tell you why God heals some and not others. I do know that I believe with every fibre of my being that He will one day restore things to the way He initially meant life to be. A place with no sickness, no war, no grief and no pain. No tiredness!

I do know that He is merciful and full of grace even when His plan is for someone not to experience healing in this life.

If we were to have a conversation, I’m sure there would be some people who would say, “Well of course you attribute good things to God. What about the shooting in Minneapolis that happened earlier this week??”

I can tell you that I believe for as long as humanity has existed, there have been people in complete and total rebellion of God’s control over the world. They refuse to accept that He governs the world and His creation. They refuse to align themselves with His laws and commands. They want to rule over themselves and other people. They allow themselves to be deceived by the devil and it is people in rebellion who commit atrocious acts against others. People in rebellion commit adultery. People in rebellion rape, steal and rob. People in rebellion commit fraud and are corrupt. People in rebellion murder.

Could God stop it? I believe He can. He is also the God who gives us a choice. Free will. We can choose to examine the evidence of His existence and believe, or we can choose to discard it. We can choose to leave wickedness and choose His way.

If Gods plan was to just have a relationship with only good people, turning His back on those struggling to accept Him, then He could just get rid of those people and keep the good ones. His longing is for His children, even those who have chosen the wrong path to come back to Him, repent of their wrongs and live as new people who have seen the light.

If anything, the good and the bad only shows us the need for a Saviour. Someone we can put our hope and trust in. Someone who understands that the community reeling from grief and pain needs comforting. Someone who knows what it feels like to see a beloved suffer. Someone who will one day judge the offender, not in a court but according to His moral standards. Someone who has love for both the victim and the perpetrator.

A God in heaven who does inexplicably good things for people who are not deserving. Did He allow me to have Hashimoto’s? He is in control of everything, so I think He did.

Did I do something to deserve it? Is it punishment? No. I don’t believe so. Doesn’t He love me enough to spare me this? Of course He loves me. This illness is not a reflection of the depth of His love for me.

Today, a really bad day, does not push me away from God. I cling to Him even more because I trust that tomorrow could be a very good day.

I know that something good will come out of this. I will change, I will grow. My friends and family might change and grow from having to support me and take care of me. Someone might read this or hear about it and turn to God. Someone’s faith might be reignited.

Somewhere down the line, I will look back and say, “Well that was the reason for that!” I know that all things will work out for His glory.

I can confidently say whether He heals me completely or not, Joshua 24:15 is my reality. ‘But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.’