by Anddy Ferreira
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus fell to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.” Alone in agony, his sweat fell like drops of blood. He knew what awaited him — betrayal, abandonment, the lashes, the thorns, the nails. He bore the weight of every sin, every sorrow, every suffering. And he did it out of love.
My faith was my anchor. I held onto it when I married the love of my life at St. Sebastian Church in Woodside, when we dreamed of a future filled with joy, children, and years together. But less than a year into our marriage, everything shattered.
In the ER at Northwell Jewish Hospital, a doctor pointed to my chest. A 9 cm tumor. Pressing against my heart and lung. The nurses couldn’t meet my eyes. Their silence said what their words wouldn’t. I knew.
Fear consumed me, but my mind turned to Jesus in Gethsemane. He, too, faced the unthinkable. He prayed for the cup to pass, but still, he surrendered. Could I?
That night, in the stillness of my bedroom, I heard a voice in my heart: “Do not be afraid. Your heart belongs to me. This tumor will be gone.”
I surrendered.
Days after, my diagnosis was confirmed — stage 2 lymphoma. The battle had begun.
Chemotherapy at NYU Langone drained me. They called it “The Red Devil”— a name that felt like an understatement. My veins collapsed, forcing a PICC line into my chest. My hair fell out in clumps. Nausea left me too weak to stand. I was breaking.
And my wife — my rock — was breaking too. She cared for me. Protected me. But I saw the pain in her eyes. Cancer didn’t just attack me — it stole from her, too.
I clung to faith — praying the rosary, attending Mass, reading the Psalms. Then came the darkest moment. A failed chemo injection. The medication threatened to destroy my body, I could have lost my arm. If they hadn’t intervened in time, I could have lost it.
One chemo left. My PET scan was set for Holy Thursday. I prayed — not for myself, but for the sick, for the suffering. Priests, nuns, and the faithful prayed for me.
The night before, I surrendered completely: “Lord, if it is your will to take me, I accept it.”
On Good Friday, my results came in.
Remission.
The tumor was gone.
I closed my eyes and saw him — Jesus, suffering in the Garden, yet accepting the Father’s will.
Cancer is destruction. So is sin. Both steal, both kill, and both lead to death.
But Christ conquered death.
This Good Friday, cherish life, embrace faith, and trust in Him.
Anddy Ferreira is a parishioner at St. Sebastian Church and a survivor of stage 2 lymphoma.