At times, I reflect on the miraculous journey that brought
me from near death to life. It’s a story I tremble to tell.
Nineteen years ago, in 2005, the words “malignant tumour”
echoed through the walls of the doctor’s office in Trinidad. The hysterectomy
was botched, and she could do nothing more. She said there were no oncologists
in Trinidad, and I needed to go abroad if I had the finances.
Time seemed to stand still as I tried to understand the
meaning of her words. Fear grasped me when I realized what she said. “Do you
mean I have cancer?’ I uttered. My husband was stunned when he heard my words.
“I’m afraid so, I am so sorry.”
Everything seemed blurred as my husband helped me up from
the chair to take me home.
We returned home, and in the quiet of my room, I knelt by
my bed, tears streaming down my face. I poured out my heart to the One who gave
his life for my salvation, the One who created the universe, and the One who
knows every cell in my body.
I pleaded, “Jesus, you healed the woman with the issue of
blood when she reached out and touched your garment. I cannot touch your
garment, but I am appealing to your kind heart. Please heal me and take this burden
from me.” A peace settled over me. It was as if His gentle hand cradled my frail
body.
My husband walked into the room and said that he had called
my daughter, Michelle, in Miami, and she made an appointment for me to see a
renowned oncologist, Dr. Leo Twiggs, at the Sylvester Cancer Centre of the
University of Miami Hospital. He had also already made flight arrangements for
Monday, as the appointment was on Wednesday.
I found the strength to call the bank to request an
increase in my credit card limit to cover all expenses. I also called my close
family, who came across and prayed with me and my husband.
My husband had booked economy tickets, but by some miracle
we were upgraded to first class.
At the Sylvester Cancer Centre, Dr. Twiggs was calm and very
reassuring. He explained that, as I recently had surgery in Trinidad, he could
not operate on me immediately, because the good cells may look like bad cells.
He suggested three months of chemotherapy, then surgery, and three more months
thereafter of chemotherapy.
Seven months later, after chemotherapy, scans, tests, and
surgery, these words from the doctor were like music to my ears. “You are cancer-free. Go home and enjoy the
rest of your life.”
The medical team smiled and looked at me. I thanked them,
but I knew the Great Physician had touched me. He had answered my prayers.
The scars are reminders of His grace. I lift my hands in
praise, not just for my physical healing but also for the healing of my spirit.
I am a living testament to love that defies reason, to
grace that surpasses understanding. Jesus healed me, and I will honour and
praise His Holy Name forever.
Healing by the Almighty is a gift worth celebrating every
day of my life.
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