Shas­tri Boodan

It was sup­posed to be rou­tine. A Pap smear, a sim­ple health screen­ing that Kim­ber­ly Moone­sar had no rea­son to be­lieve would change the course of her life.

But dur­ing the ex­am­i­na­tion at the Can­cer So­ci­ety of Trinidad and To­ba­go, a nurse con­duct­ed a breast ex­am­i­na­tion and dis­cov­ered a lump.

Sud­den­ly, what had be­gun as an or­di­nary med­ical ap­point­ment be­came the be­gin­ning of a jour­ney Kim­ber­ly could nev­er have imag­ined.

The 42-year-old Court Records Su­per­vi­sor at the Ju­di­cia­ry of Trinidad and To­ba­go, from Cou­va, un­der­went fur­ther in­ves­ti­ga­tions, in­clud­ing a mam­mo­gram and ul­tra­sound.

Then came the biop­sy-on April 23, 2025, the pro­ce­dure was per­formed at St James Med­ical Com­plex.

Twelve days lat­er, on May 5, Kim­ber­ly of­fi­cial­ly re­ceived the di­ag­no­sis: can­cer.

“Noth­ing tru­ly pre­pares you for hear­ing the words, ‘You have can­cer.’” The news left her in shock and dis­be­lief.

But as the ini­tial shock gave way to re­al­i­ty, Kim­ber­ly re­alised she was fac­ing a bat­tle that would af­fect not on­ly her, but every­one around her.

Can­cer would test her phys­i­cal­ly. It would test her emo­tion­al­ly. And it would test her faith.

Yet, from the be­gin­ning, she was not alone. “My fam­i­ly stood by me every step of the way, pro­vid­ing strength and en­cour­age­ment when I need­ed it most.”

Her fam­i­ly be­came her foun­da­tion dur­ing the dif­fi­cult months that fol­lowed. But sup­port al­so came from an­oth­er fam­i­ly—her Ju­di­cia­ry fam­i­ly.

Her man­agers, ad­min­is­tra­tors and col­leagues ral­lied around her, of­fer­ing care, com­pas­sion and un­der­stand­ing as she nav­i­gat­ed treat­ment.

Their sup­port, she said, helped her face each chal­lenge with re­newed de­ter­mi­na­tion.

And there would be many chal­lenges. Kim­ber­ly un­der­went surgery at St James Hos­pi­tal on June 6, 2025.

Then came ap­prox­i­mate­ly 50 days of re­cov­ery at home.

But surgery was on­ly the be­gin­ning. On Sep­tem­ber 15, 2025, she be­gan chemother­a­py.

Each cy­cle brought its own bat­tle. For at least eight days af­ter every chemother­a­py ses­sion, Kim­ber­ly be­came se­ri­ous­ly ill.

There was se­vere nau­sea. Pain in her hands and feet, dizzi­ness, ex­treme fa­tigue and the com­plete loss of her sense of taste.

The treat­ment that was in­tend­ed to help save her life was al­so tak­ing a tremen­dous phys­i­cal and emo­tion­al toll.

Every cy­cle be­came a test of en­durance. But per­haps the most emo­tion­al­ly dif­fi­cult mo­ment came dur­ing the sec­ond week of treat­ment.

Her hair be­gan to fall out. For Kim­ber­ly, that was more than a phys­i­cal side ef­fect. It was the mo­ment the re­al­i­ty of can­cer ful­ly con­front­ed her.

“That was the mo­ment I ful­ly came to terms with the fact that I was bat­tling can­cer.”

There was no es­cap­ing it. No pre­tend­ing that life was still as it had been be­fore the di­ag­no­sis.

Can­cer had be­come part of her every­day re­al­i­ty. But Kim­ber­ly re­fused to al­low the dis­ease to take away her de­ter­mi­na­tion.

She en­dured the treat­ment cy­cles and even­tu­al­ly com­plet­ed chemother­a­py in March 2026.

Then came an­oth­er stage of the jour­ney—ra­di­a­tion ther­a­py. Her bat­tle, how­ev­er, is not over.

“My can­cer jour­ney is still on­go­ing.”

That sim­ple state­ment per­haps says more about Kim­ber­ly’s courage than any­thing else. She is not look­ing back on can­cer as some­thing that has al­ready end­ed.

She is still walk­ing through it and still un­der­go­ing treat­ment.

Still pray­ing; still hop­ing and still learn­ing to ap­pre­ci­ate the gift of each day.

Through it all, faith has been the foun­da­tion up­on which Kim­ber­ly has built her strength.

“With­out God and my faith in Je­sus Christ, I do not be­lieve I would have been able to en­dure the phys­i­cal and emo­tion­al chal­lenges of can­cer treat­ment.”

When her body was weak and her spir­it was test­ed, faith gave her com­fort, it gave her hope; it re­mind­ed her that she was not alone.

To­day, Kim­ber­ly says she is sig­nif­i­cant­ly stronger than she was a year ago. She con­tin­ues to re­ceive month­ly hor­mon­al in­jec­tions and takes dai­ly med­ica­tion as part of her on­go­ing care.

So does the un­cer­tain­ty. But so does her grat­i­tude.

“To­day, I thank God for the progress I have made and the strength I have re­gained.”

Kim­ber­ly has learned not to take to­mor­row for grant­ed.

In­stead, she em­braces each day with grat­i­tude, pray­ing that the can­cer nev­er re­turns and that she will con­tin­ue to en­joy the gift of life and good health.

Her jour­ney has al­so giv­en her a mes­sage she wants every per­son — es­pe­cial­ly women — to hear.

Do not wait, do not post­pone the screen­ing that could save your life.

“Please do not ne­glect your reg­u­lar health screen­ings and check-ups. Ear­ly de­tec­tion tru­ly saved my life.”

She is there­fore urg­ing women not to put off Pap smears, breast ex­am­i­na­tions, mam­mo­grams or oth­er rec­om­mend­ed screen­ing tests.

“These sim­ple pro­ce­dures can make all the dif­fer­ence.”

And for those who have al­ready heard the words that changed her own life, Kim­ber­ly has a mes­sage of hope.

“Re­mem­ber that you are stronger than you think.”

To­day, Kim­ber­ly is still walk­ing the road to re­cov­ery.

She does not know every­thing that lies ahead.

But she knows what has car­ried her this far: faith, fam­i­ly, friends, col­leagues and an un­wa­ver­ing de­ter­mi­na­tion to keep mov­ing for­ward.

“God car­ried me through my jour­ney, and I be­lieve He can car­ry you through yours as well.”