By Yusmunirah M. Yusar
Her steps grew quicker with each passing moment. Every so often, she glanced at the time on her phone, calculating the minutes of her brisk-walking phase.
If she felt her pace needed to shift into a jog, she would pick up speed, trying her best to match the rhythm.
She scrolled through her Spotify playlist, switching to a livelier beat to energise her stride. Upon reaching the starting point again, she checked her phone and smiled.
“Yes! Phase accomplished,” she whispered to herself. “Hmm… only three rounds. Eighteen minutes. Still have time,” her heart mused.
She picked up the pace, swinging her arms, doing light stretches while listening to her favourite songs. Her footsteps quickened again. Occasionally, she smiled and greeted neighbours she passed.
For seven months now, this routine had become her nourishment. Nourishment for the body — and more importantly, nourishment for a soul in healing.
Whenever time allowed, she would repeat it in the evening. Never tiring of it.
But while this journey began seven months ago, the real story had started much earlier — when a tiny life began growing inside her womb.
“No need to worry, Madam. Your blood readings are stable. We’ll monitor you, and for now, no medication is needed.”
She nodded in understanding as the doctor explained the results. To her, it was enough that the pregnancy was healthy and safe. As long as the uninvited illness didn’t harm her — or the baby she carried — she could breathe easy.
“Perhaps this is just one of those symptoms pregnant mothers get,” she thought.
But that calm didn’t last.
Recurring fevers led her from clinic to hospital emergency ward. The doctor’s words echoed in her mind.
“Your heartbeat is racing. If left untreated, it could be fatal. Have you noticed any changes in your body? Palpitations? Sudden heat? How are your emotions? According to past records, you had thyroid issues during your second pregnancy.”
The questions came in waves, but only one word stuck in her mind.
“Fatal.”
“Madam, stretch your arms forward. I’ll place this A4 paper on them.”
She complied silently. Her thoughts drifted. Old worries resurfaced. Her fingers trembled, shaking the paper resting on the back of her hand.
She looked at the officer and slowly began to speak.
“I feel an intense heat. I noticed my neck swelling. My emotions have been flaring lately. I’ve had frequent bowel movements. My hands tremble. I struggle to breathe — short, shallow breaths. During my second pregnancy, the clinic monitored my blood readings. The doctor said I didn’t need medication as the readings were still under control.”
Her voice quivered with every word. Her chest tightened. Tears threatened to fall.
The officer resumed the examination. Within two hours, she was in the Red Zone.
Yes.
The Red Zone.
The diagnosis was clear — hyperthyroidism. From that day on, her life changed.
Her phone alarm rang daily to remind her of her medication.
Six pills. High dosage.
And each time she swallowed them, her heart rebelled.
Medicine saved her — but also frightened her. Time passed. Her routine evolved.
Specialist appointments every three months became the norm. Medication became a daily ritual. Six pills became five.
Five became four. Four became three. Now, just two. Slowly. Gently.
But she knew she didn’t want to rely solely on medication. There was a time she even stopped taking them — without telling her doctor.
Stubborn? Perhaps. Hopeless? Never.
She simply wanted to believe she had the power to heal.
This drastic decision wasn’t driven by anyone else. She wanted to experiment with herself, convinced that a positive mindset could bring positive health outcomes.
She began seeking her own answers.
She learned about diet. Managed calories. Chose her meals. Regulated her emotions. She embraced brisk-walking — something she’d never considered before.
She believed in its benefits: stress relief, heart strengthening — a step towards recovery.
She also returned to volunteering. Yes, something close to her heart from long ago. She carved out time on weekends to join her friends in volunteer activities.
She realised that being among positive people nurtured positive emotions. And that was the true strength — the natural “medicine” her body needed to stay well.
Until today.
In her fourth year of treatment, the doctor smiled at her blood test results.
Her readings were stable again. Her body was slowly making peace.
Now, every step she takes during briskwalk feels like a new breath of life.
Not just walking. But proof that she is still here. Still strong. Still fighting. And still choosing to heal.
My thoughts on volunteerism — a principle close to my heart—are also shared in my book, “Suka Rela Sukar Lawan,” published by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka in 2024. For inquiries, please contact yusmunirah@gmail.com.
Yusmunirah M. Yusar is a volunteer with Yayasan SALAM Malaysia, an NGO dedicated to volunteerism in Malaysia for over 30 years.