Scars of Grace: My Rebirth One Week After Surgery

By Jermaine N. Edwards

My pen is my savior. It is my voice when words fail me. It is my quiet refuge when the world feels too loud. Writing brings me comfort, clarity, and peace. Through it, I find healing. Through it, I am free.

This journey I share is personal, yet I believe it was placed upon me with purpose. While I will always love my politics and will continue that calling with unyielding dedication, this path, this new one, is deeply personal. It is born of passion, pain, and purpose.

On September 3rd, 2025, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The news came like a sharp wind that steals the breath before you realize it. After many restless nights, tears, and silent prayers, I made the decision to move forward with a double mastectomy on October 16th, 2025. It was not an easy decision. I struggled on every level, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, but ultimately, the deciding factor was me.

I decided that I want to live. I decided that I still have work left to do, if it is God’s will. I made the decision from a place of faith, reflection, and courage because I still have paths to walk, voices to raise, and lives to touch.

It has now been one week since my surgery, one week since my rebirth. This week has been hard. I will not pretend otherwise. The physical pain has been sharp and humbling. The emotional and mental pain has been heavy. There have been moments when I have wept until I could weep no more. I have mourned the loss of my breasts, not because of vanity, but because they were a part of me. They were an intimate, nurturing part of my body. They comforted my child. They symbolized a piece of my womanhood that I cherished.

Some have said, “They are just breasts.” But to me, they are not just anything. They were mine. They were a part of my story.

Still, through the pain, I have laughed. I have cried again and found the strength to smile through tears. And I have found a deeper meaning in this year’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month theme: “My Why.” It felt like it was written for me. My why is simple. It is life, purpose, and love.

Because when I needed it most, my tribe surrounded me. Friends from my past reappeared with compassion that felt like sunlight after a long storm. Political opponents became unexpected bearers of kindness. Strangers became friends, and friends became pillars of unwavering support. Schoolmates, church, families, my almamaters, my dm, pastors, prayer warriors, and of course the St. John’s Rural South community,some I knew and others I didn’t, all reached out.

Calls came in. Messages poured from across Antigua and Barbuda, the region, and beyond. I heard from people in Jamaica, the United States, Canada, and the British diaspora. And through it all, I realized something profound: I am not alone.

My Antiguan and Barbudan family have been steadfast. You have texted, called, prayed, and held me up in ways that words can hardly capture. You have built a wall of love and faith around me that only the grace of God could match. Every story shared, every prayer whispered, strengthened me. Some shared their victories, others their losses, but all shared love.

I knew then that I made the right decision to share my diagnosis publicly. Because no one should have to face this battle alone. It was divine timing that my diagnosis came during Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I could not keep silent while others suffered in silence. This journey was meant to be shared. It was meant to remind others that they, too, are not alone.

I write this with tears streaming, not of sorrow, but of gratitude. Gratitude for every message, every prayer, every show of love that has reminded me that hope still lives in this world. You have shown me that Antigua and Barbuda still holds compassion, that our humanity is alive and well, that our hearts still beat together as one.

This is my love letter of gratitude. One week into recovery, and though the pain is deep, I push forward with purpose. I push forward with faith. I push forward with the conviction that I am loved, that I am supported, and that I am not walking this road alone.

To anyone who may be fighting a similar battle, please know that you are not alone. You are seen. You are loved. And you, too, can rise again. We can do this together. We can survive together.

I am healing, I am hopeful, and I am here.

Jermaine N. Edwards
Community Advocate
St. John’s Rural South

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