A Jon Post

Fernando is 16. He arrived at the hospital a few months ago sick, in pain, and unable to walk on his right leg. He had been waiting for a few weeks for analysis on the growth there.
Finally the word came back. It’s cancer, and we have to amputate your leg.
He waited another few weeks for the surgery to be scheduled and for his white blood cell count to be high enough to withstand the surgery and went to the operating table.
When he recovered enough from the amputation he was transferred to the oncology ward to receive 6 months of chemo.
Though brave, strong and optimistic in his first months, he steadily got worse and worse. He grew weaker every week and started sleeping more. I used to have long conversations with him when I visited but he would be asleep during my time there more and more often.
His 18 year old cousin Leito, who has known him since the two were young boys together in their village far to the north, has stood with him for his whole journey. Leito massages his remaining leg because the cancer has spread to the knee and causes pain. Leito helps him to the bathroom, brings him food, and stays nearby in case there’s a need.
Last week when I arrived I found Leito standing outside just looking at the ground.
“Fernando has been discharged” he told me.
My smile turned to ashes… I know what Leito’s words mean.
“Fernando has been discharged”, spoken in abject weariness in Leito’s voice, kept repeating itself in my head. Fernando will not be getting better.
Though Fernando lives in the extreme north of the country with his mother, his father actually lives here in Maputo city.
In the 4 months Fernando has been in the hospital his father has visited him twice. Fernando and Leito left the hospital that afternoon to go to his father’s house.

I once had a conversation with Fernando about what he wanted to do when he was older. He spoke about many of his dreams  and he used the phrase “When my real life begins” as he spoke of his future. I remember sitting next to him when he said that, feeling the hope rise in me that pressed against a reality that stared me in the face that indeed his dreams would come true and he would recover from this cancer.
Fernando and I also spoke of Christ and His resurrection. We held hands and our hearts rejoiced in our shared faith.
Now, in his fathers home, he waits to die.
Fernando is waiting for his real life to begin.

He will not have to wait long.