Diagnosed with terminal illness, Maryknoll priest discovers blessings he took for granted

I never thought having cancer could change your life for the better. But since my diagnosis almost five years ago, I'm enjoying life as never before. I owe it all to God's grace illuminating my thinking and wonderful people surrounding me with love.

Of course, my initial reaction to my disease was anything but positive. Except for periodic bouts with malaria, I had had good health throughout more than 24 years as a missioner in Tanzania. So I was not prepared when, before beginning a stateside assignment in 1994, I had a routine blood test that revealed a malignancy. There must be some mistake, I thought. I had no symptoms. Besides, I was only 53 years old, hardworking and thoughtful. How could this happen to me? Driving from the doctor's office, I felt completely bewildered.

For the next month my life and body were not my own as I underwent one test after another. Fortunately, all the tests indicated the cancer was in my prostate only. Nevertheless, waiting for the surgery, I couldn't enjoy anything. Forget the beauty of late summer at Maryknoll headquarters on the banks of the Hudson River or the scenic views along the Charles River when I'd go home to Boston. Forget good food or a gin and tonic before supper.

Then I went for my pre-operation interview, and the nurse asked, "What kind of support do you have in all this?" Immediately I thought of my large family in Boston and my Maryknoll family. I thought of my parishioners in Tanzania, those lively Sukuma people in Shinyanga in whose small mud block homes I had sipped so many cups of tea. I had an overwhelming support system!

Perhaps it was that realization that helped me accept the doctor's report after surgery. "I'm sorry to say your cancer has spread," he told me as gently as possible. "We have done major surgery and after a month of recuperation, we'll begin radiation." With the hard truth that I'd probably not live to the average life expectancy of American males, he reassured me, "but you have many good years left, maybe 10, maybe more, maybe less."

I lay quietly for a few moments, then rang for the nurse. I asked for a strong cup of tea and a pad and pencil. Guaranteed I was not going to exit from the fourth floor window, she filled my request. I knew I could no longer take time for granted, so I wrote down some goals: "Be the best man and priest I can be and get back to Tanzania as soon as possible."

Released from the hospital, I went to recuperate with my family. How refreshing it was to walk Boston's Castle Island and Revere Beach. Meanwhile I read all I could about radiation. Back in New York, I began treatment. Advised that attitude is the most important factor in recovery, I pictured my minute of radiation each day as rays of energy and health coming into me and removing the cancer cells. I'd go to the medical center dressed as a priest and people would seek me out. Sometimes I heard confessions in the parking lot. I gave comfort and was comforted, especially in my weekly cancer support group of 15 fellow patients.

Following treatment, I participated in a spiritual renewal program, then returned to another sprawling parish of Nindo with its 14 outstations 25 miles west of Shinyanga. I shared with the people how my cancer had been detected "by coincidence." Typical of African Christians, who see God in all that happens, Kristina Kamuga responded, "That was not a coincidence. It was part of God's plan for you, not that God wanted you to be sick, but to discover the gift of life." How true.

Father Shea, from Belmont, Mass., was ordained in 1967.

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