This is adapted from one of my blog posts from years ago…
📍 Written December 2020 | Groote Schuur Hospital, Cape Town
I’m lying in a hospital bed again. Same walls. Same smell. Same sterile sounds. But this time… I’m not the same person.
The last time I blogged from this hospital, it was 2012. It was after navigating a speedbump in motivation with the beginning stages of my entrepreneurial journey. It was at the time that I had just appeared on The Expresso Show, glowing with potential, and opened a drop and go workshop in Blue Route Mall with my Kreative Kraftz business.
That year, I was admitted with a cardiac condition. A big red flag, and yet life didn’t slow down.
Since then, I’ve returned to this hospital twice—once for the (very dramatic) birth of my firstborn, in 2013… and again for the scheduled C-section of my second born in 2019. Both times, my heart condition required special monitoring.
But now it’s 2020.
Oh, 2020. The year that just keeps on giving. 🙃
And here I am again.
Different medical conundrum.
Completely different woman.
Oh, 2020. The year that just keeps on giving.
That night, I lie awake with waves of discomfort and fear.
The Symptoms I Tried to Ignore
It started with a sore left arm and chest pain. It’s been happening for weeks—randomly—and I keep pushing it aside. I blamed anxiety. We’ve just moved out of our first family home and into a temporary space. I tell myself it’s just the stress.
But God, in His grace, allowed for me to pack up our entire household and then gave me just enough time to unpack everything for my girls to feel settled. I even put the toothbrushes in the holders before it hit me fully.
The pain didn’t pass anymore.
That night, I lie awake with waves of discomfort and fear. I pop calming pills. Try pain meds. Breathe through it. Deny it. But by 5am, I know: this isn’t just anxiety. I message my doctor. She confirms my suspicions and says I should go.
I head to the emergency room at Groote Schuur.
And I spend the entire day being poked, scanned, and tested.
An ECG.
A chest X-ray.
A CT scan.
With the infamous contrast injection. If you’ve had one, you know—nothing prepares you for the sudden warmth that feels like you’ve wet yourself. I ACTUALLY thought that I had pee’d in my pants! 😂
At 1:50am, yes, in the morning… (I had been in the waiting room all day and night…) the doctor then calls me into a private room. I know immediately. This isn’t routine. Because everyone else was given their diagnosis or feedback right there in the waiting room. I knew that this was serious.
She tells me:
“You have a mass in your chest.”
Life Immediately Hits Pause
They admit me for more tests. They need to determine whether it’s cancerous.
And just like that, my go-go-go life slams into stillness.
Weekends in a state hospital are quiet.
There are delays.
Procedures slow down.
And for the first time in years—I stop.
I had joked a few months before that 2021 would be my slow-down year. That I’d finally find a different rhythm.
Clearly, the universe didn’t trust I’d get there on my own. So here I am… forced still.
And in this pause, I start to remember who I used to be.
I pick up a book for the first time in 8 years. 📖 (and I was an avid bookworm when I was younger)
I meditate.
I talk to God. 🙏🏼
I didn’t expect to be sitting here, 3 days later, staring into a bowl of green jelly and (thicker than usual) custard lol… customary Sunday afternoon hospital dessert.
I was actually chewing my food and breathing in-between bites—it felt very different to shoving food down while juggling life.
I was being fed by stillness.
By reflection. ✨
The Ache of Separation
By day 4, I still hadn’t seen my girls in person. (Thanks to Covid protocols.)
My youngest, just recently weaned off breastfeeding and just shy of her second birthday, had never gone so long without me.
Every little “Grown-ups come back.” jingle from Daniel Tiger echoed in my heart. 🥹
And I promise her in my heart, Soon, baby. Soon, Mommy will be home.
I ache, as I look through the window at the outside.
A little slice of heaven.
But I’m also deeply aware—this isn’t just about healing my body.
It’s about healing my life. ❤️
Divine Breadcrumbs from My Father
On day 6, something shifts.
The chest pain is gone. I’m breathing deeply—without tramadol. My prayer warriors have been covering me, and I feel it. I feel held. 🙏🏼
And then… my dad shows up.
Not physically. He passed in 2012.
But his presence is unmistakable.
That same year—2012—was when this whole heart story began. And here I am, exactly 8 years later, feeling his spirit closer than ever.
I speak to my dad’s sister. She’s fighting her own cancer battle. She tells me to find a man who works at the hospital—my father’s childhood best friend.
And I do.
(What are the chances of him working there at that moment in time – I definitely felt that I was right where I was meant to be.)
He tells me that he hadn’t seen my dad since 1985—the year I was born.
His season with my dad had ended… and then mine started.
He stands in front of me, stunned.
“You’re his daughter?”
I nod.
And something inside me unlocks. 🩺
Piecing Together My Story
Growing up, I was told that my dad’s side of the family didn’t care.
But that wasn’t the truth.
This moment cracks everything open.
I decide to trace my family tree—to piece together the missing parts. Something that was on my heart for a long time, but this was the moment I needed to start it.
Relatives begin surfacing in the most unexpected places:
• A classmate from primary school turns out to be a distant cousin.
• A sweet older woman I knew from teen days in Sloster Avenue? Another aunt.
• A customer from my Feeling Sexy business (yes, I once sold dildos and gave bedroom advice on GoodHope FM 😅)… turns out, she’s related too.
My past and present collide.
And instead of shame, I feel curiosity.
Pride.
Wholeness.
This isn’t just about bloodlines.
It’s about belonging. 🧬
A God-moment if I’ve ever seen one.
This moment cracks everything open.
My past and present collide.
Ladybugs, Colouring Books & Unexpected Grace
My days begin to feel like a slow, sacred movie. 🎥
I colour with oil pastels. 🎨 One drawing in particular stands out—a ladybug.
I look up the symbolism:
Good fortune. Protection. Living life without boundaries.
Yes. That feels right. 🍀
Then there’s Itumileng.
We think she’s 30—until we realize we heard wrong and she’s 13. A little girl, fighting lupus.
I gift her with a pair of earphones.
Then my best friend’s colouring book.
I divide my pencil crayons between us. 🌈
She colours all afternoon, head bopping to the music. 🎶
My heart softens.
Even here, in a ward with no privacy and too many patients, we create magic. ✨
God is always right there in the details.
A nurse later drops off a bumper-sized colouring book. With a wink, she whispers,
“It fell off the trolley.”
A God-moment if I’ve ever seen one. 💫
When Stillness Heals
This isn’t just about a health scare.
This is about being cracked open to truly heal.
I used to think healing had to be loud. Dramatic. A lightning bolt. ⚡
But it’s often quiet.
It’s green jelly.
It’s forgotten cousins.
It’s oil pastels.
It’s surrendering your schedule and learning to rest—not because you want to, but because you have to.
It’s sacred stillness.
It’s the moment you remember how to feel again. 🕊️
To Be Continued…
Stay tuned for Part 2: “The Diagnosis, the Decision, and the Drawing of New Lines.”
I’ll share what the doctors said, how that diagnosis shaped me, and why I believe that season was never meant to destroy me—but to restore me. 💛
#KreativeKim #DearDiary #HealingJourney #DivineTiming #SpiritualAwakening #HospitalStory #StillnessHeals #FamilyTreeDiscover #HealingFromWithin #ChestPainJourney #FaithInTheStorm #FromDiagnosisToHealing #2020Reflections #MyBodySpoke
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Cracking open is the only way to truly heal. To see what needs to change, how you need to CHANGE AND how the people who you surround yourself with, need to change. We can only truly heal when we know, without a doubt what we are dealing with. Thank you for being so vulnerable and sharing your story. There are definitely people out there who will benefit from it. It makes me stop to THINK ABOUT my own life.🙏🏼❤️🩷
Thank you so much for these beautiful words 🤍 You’re so right — sometimes it’s only when life cracks us wide open that we’re finally able to see clearly… what needs to shift within us, around us, and what no longer belongs. Sharing this was deeply personal, but messages like yours remind me why I do it. If it helps even one person pause, reflect, or feel less alone in their own process — then it’s worth it 🙏🏼 Sending you love on your journey too ❤️🩷