“Mr Cheong, you have 12 to 14 months left to live. If your blood calcium levels stay high, you might only have six months or less left.”

February 21, 2022, was the day my world changed in an instant.

I was told I had stage four bile duct cancer, a rare type of cancer with no known cure, with 95% of patients dying within five years. 

My mind went blank and the only word I could form was “okay”.

Deep down, I wondered: “Am I going to die? Is this the end?”

I was only 38, and had just begun a new IT job. It was barely a year since I got back on my feet after a second battle with depression.

Damein a year before the cancer diagnosis.

I couldn’t just die like this. I was waiting for my Build-to-Order flat as a single, and had yet to find a partner and contribute to Singapore’s birth rate. Then there was the Masters of Counselling programme I wanted to finish, and an Australian road trip that I wanted to take with my buddy.

Too far gone to save?

Earlier that year, I noticed that something wasn’t right.

I often felt weak, out of breath after a short walk across the street to buy food. Even taking a shower felt monumental.

I was losing weight without trying. Yet I was always thirsty and felt bloated and full after eating a third of my regular bowl of noodles.

I thought it was just a side effect of the new medication I took for eczema, something I had struggled with since childhood.

But when I went to my skin specialist, he referred me to two other doctors who admitted me to hospital for a full week of intensive tests.

The results were super jialat (“terrible” in Singlish).

The initial PET scan in 2022 showed tumours all over the liver.

I was told that I had several tumours in my liver. The biggest of the largest three was almost 11cm in diameter.

The cancer marker was alarmingly high: Almost 20,000 points. It was twice the number that can be recorded by certain labs. Anything above 10,000 was deemed too high to save.

Fighting poison with poison

Many friends asked: “Damein, how did you manage when the doctor gave you such bad news?”

Honestly, I don’t know.

Even though I’ve been a Christian for years, I didn’t feel comforted or peaceful – like I thought I would – knowing that I would be meeting Jesus soon.

And yet, strangely, I didn’t have the mental breakdown I might have had if the diagnosis had come earlier.

Looking back now, I can see something I couldn’t see in that moment.

Before this, I had gone through two very dark seasons of depression. There were mornings when I felt like I could barely hold on, when I wished I could escape life altogether.

Ironically, I had prayed to die back then. But now, with death staring at me in the face, something shifted. I didn’t want to die. I found myself praying to live.

There’s a Chinese saying, 以毒攻毒 – to fight poison with poison. And somehow, that’s what it had felt like.

Through those painful times, I experienced what it is like to be broken, and what it is like to be carried out and healed.

It gave me an inner strength and hope for what sounded like a death sentence pronounced over me.

I believed that God, who had been with me then, was with me now. And that made all the difference.

I was willing to release control over my circumstances, and to trust that God would guide me through whatever was coming next.

I knew I wasn’t alone, even if I didn’t understand my situation.

Many goodbyes

In my conversation with the doctor, it looked like my chances of full recovery was extremely low.

Reality sunk in that I might only have a few months to live, and it was important for me to say goodbye to my loved ones and friends.

I felt sadness and a sense of loss. I had seen many friends and loved ones pass away. It was hard to grieve for them, but now I was also grieving at the thought that I might not see my friends again.

Through my ordeal, I realised something truly beautiful: I am loved.

People whom I had known from different parts of my life reached out, offering their support, their love and their care.

My community of friends from church cooked healthy meals for me, ferried me to church and our small group meetings when I was too weak to go on my own. They prayed with me, and simply showed up when I needed them the most.

Friends visiting Damein at his family home.

Through them, God showed me that my life mattered – not just to Him, but also to those He had placed in my life.

In the face of death, I also began to see what is important and what is petty in life.

I began to confront some deep emotional wounds – anger, sadness, regret and self-rejection – I had carried for years.

It was also important to let go of past regrets and hurts, and forgive others who had hurt me. During this challenging period, my relationships with my mum and my dad improved, and we grew closer. I believe God was working in my family.

My parents subsequently invited Jesus into their lives – an answer to one of my biggest prayers.

I also had to learn to forgive myself. I had spent so much of my life carrying a silent shame over my eczema, thinking that it made me unworthy of love and acceptance.

It was a slow, painful process, but when I asked God to heal me, I felt Him replace my pain with a peace and joy I could not explain.

Looking back, God was healing my heart, healing me from the inside out.

Blessings within the chemo storm

As I prayed and surrendered each treatment cycle to God, I realised He was watching over me.

For instance, I did not experience any common side effects from chemotherapy like nausea and vomiting, or lose any hair or weight. If I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t know that I was a Stage Four cancer patient.

In fact, I was gaining so much weight that I even told my doctor: “Please, we need to do something! I’m too fat!”

(The weight gain was a combination of just eating and not moving around much after treatment. I was also taking anti-nausea medication which were appetite boosters.)

Then a miracle happened.

Since I was a child, I had suffered from severe eczema. No treatment, prayer, or medicine had ever worked.

After several rounds of chemotherapy, Damein’s hair developed “chemo curls”, which his friends jokingly called his “free Korean oppa (older brother) makeover”.

My doctor even warned me that one of the drugs might make the eczema worse.

But in the middle of chemotherapy, the eczema cleared up.

It was as if God was telling me: “Damein, I’m healing more than just what’s urgent – I’m restoring what you had given up hope on.” 

(Read about Damein’s journey with eczema here.)

A second chance at life

A year into the cancer treatment, I slowly regained basic strength and was able to drive again. I could go out to get a haircut, run a short errand, and go to church without needing someone to watch over me.

My immunity had improved to the point where I could meet friends, share a meal and not live in fear of every cough or sneeze around me.

Celebrating Damein’s 39th birthday with members from his small group. “After a full year in treatment, I was what is considered ‘subjectively well’ and was able to go for church camp (pictured) in between chemo cycles,” he said.

This was not a full recovery. But being able to care for myself and move around independently was a return to life and dignity.

In October 2023, the author (front row, third from left) celebrated his life with friends at the launch of his book, Convergence.

And perhaps most meaningfully, I had enough strength to write a book titled Convergence, about what God has been doing in my and my family’s life, and celebrate its launch with friends. Convergence wasn’t just a creative project. It was proof that I was still here – still living, still breathing.

By June 2024, my cancer markers had dropped to below 34 points – and was in the normal range for people without cancer.

Lab report showing that the cancer marker had dropped into the normal range for people without cancer.

I was able to return to Japan for a holiday, where I had regularly visited as someone offering hope and help – something I never thought I would do again – and reunited with friends whom I thought I would never see in person again.

Enjoying a renewed relationship with Dad on a visit to Japan in March 2023.

God had given me a second chance at life.

For this, I am forever grateful.

What if God doesn’t heal?

Having to go through treatment every other week for over three years hasn’t been easy. 

There were days where I struggled and had to force myself to go for yet another hospital session.

I was tired of the needles and that familiar disinfectant smell of the treatment centre.

To date, I have lived three times longer (and counting) than expected.

The most recent PET scans done in March 2025 showed that the three largest tumours have shrunk to about 2.5cm on average, with only one tumour showing cancerous activity.

After years of waiting, I heard the news that I was finally able to undergo surgery to remove the last active tumour.

It felt like the Lord had lifted that load off me and that maybe this season was finally coming to an end.

If all goes well, I will only need a few more chemotherapy cycles before transiting into a remission phase. (Most bile duct cancer patients have to remain on some form of active “maintenance” to be able to survive.)

Doctors have commented that my case is “unusually favourable” and “one in a million”. One went as far as to say that it’s “almost like a miracle” that my condition is so stable.

I don’t have a definitive answer to why God heals some and not others, and perhaps there isn’t one that feels fully adequate.

While some people may say: “God still has something for you to do”, it raises the question of whether healing must always be tied to doing.

I’ve seen friends pass on in ways that felt painfully unfair, and others meet death with peace, believing it was their time.

Even within Christianity, views on healing differ: Some see it as a past-era miracle, while others, like myself, believe God still heals.

Yet we live in a world where not every outcome makes sense to us.

Though I hold on to hope, I also trust in His wisdom even if healing doesn’t come.

Every time I think about the chance of relapse, or worse, it reminds me to draw closer to God.

Waiting to welcome friends to his new BTO flat for a hotpot meal during Chinese New Year 2025. Damein was down to a healthy weight by then.

Going through depression and cancer has helped me trust Him more. I believe God has not just given me more time, but has given new meaning to it.

I also feel that if I had remained bitter or believed that things could never get better, I might have stayed stuck in pain and regret.

It was by receiving His love and grace that I began to heal and discover purpose and hope, even when everything felt like it was falling apart.

For me, a possible relapse is not just about health, but also about how I respond to God.

As I reflect on this journey, I know that it’s not just through science and medicine that I’m still alive, but also God’s power, working through them, that has brought me this far.

Part of this story is based on a talk Damein recorded in September 2023. A version of this story first appeared on Stories of Hope.

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