Pamela McColloch had only been colon cancer-free for a few weeks when the next phone call came. Liver cancer. A second diagnosis before she had finished exhaling from the first.
The rollercoaster of emotions that comes with one cancer diagnosis is enough to break anyone. Two, back to back, with barely a breath between them — that is the kind of thing that makes your body forget how to function. Your hands shake. Your thoughts spiral. Your mind runs worst-case scenarios on an endless loop.
The Diagnosis
Colon cancer had been terrifying enough. Surgery. Recovery. The waiting for results. The careful monitoring. The tentative relief when the doctor said she was clear. And then — liver cancer. As if the first fight had been a warm-up round.
Pamela described her journey as a rollercoaster of emotions, faith, and ultimately, a testament to the power of surrender. But she did not arrive at surrender quickly. She arrived at it the way most people do: after trying everything else first.
The Fear
Fear after a cancer diagnosis is not an emotion. It is an environment. It colours everything. You wake up in it. You eat in it. You try to have normal conversations while it sits in the corner of every room, staring at you. Pamela knew this fear intimately after her colon cancer. When liver cancer arrived, the fear did not just return — it doubled.
She was afraid of dying. She was afraid of suffering. She was afraid of being a burden. She was afraid that this time, the outcome would be different. The fear was, in many ways, worse than the disease itself.
The Surrender
What changed was not the diagnosis. What changed was what Pamela did with the fear. She stopped fighting it. She stopped trying to think positively enough, believe hard enough, or push through with enough willpower. She surrendered.
Not to the cancer. To God.
She described the moment simply: she let go of her fears and anxieties and placed them entirely in God's hands. And what came back was not what she expected. A profound sense of peace washed over her — a reassurance that defied all logic and reason.
That is not a metaphor. It is not positive thinking. It is what happens when a terrified human being stops clenching their fists and opens their hands to a God who has been waiting to hold them.
The Healing
Pamela came through both cancers. She is now cancer-free. But the healing she talks about most is not the medical one. It is the moment when fear lost its grip. When peace moved in and fear moved out. When she discovered that God's presence was stronger than the worst thing that could happen to her.
Her perspective shifted permanently. Cancer, for all its devastation, became the doorway through which she found a depth of relationship with God she had never known before.
What This Means for You
If you have been diagnosed once, and the fear has barely settled, and then another diagnosis lands on top of it — you are not being punished. You are not forgotten. And you do not have to generate enough faith to cover both.
Pamela McColloch found peace not by trying harder but by letting go. The peace of God is not something you earn. It is something you receive when you stop pretending you can handle this on your own.
You cannot think your way out of cancer-related fear. But you can surrender your way through it. And on the other side of that surrender, there is a peace that makes no sense — and does not need to.
