The Healing Hand of God

Today, 8th September 2020 marks five years exactly that my son had to undergo an operation to reduce the swelling on his left ear.

The memory of this event started on 6th, September 2015, two days before the operation. I was giving my son a bath that Sunday morning and noticed he cried out in pain every time I tried to touch a part of his head, at closer inspection I notice a swelling on his ear the size of a small pebble, he was not yet two years old, but he could still articulate to me that he was in pain whenever I touched the swelling.

I was worried but thought maybe it was just a sign he was coming down with something and this was a way the body was reacting to it. Since it was Sunday, I could not call up the GP, so I gave him paracetamol to ease the pain and hoped that it will give him some relief. This helped and he finally slept, but I could see he was still tender at my touch, so I took a photo of the swelling to monitor any changes to it.

The next day, after a restless night we had an early start as a family. I had to drop off my husband at Heathrow airport because he was travelling that morning, then I took my daughter to school before going off to the GP for an emergence appointment for my son.

The GP had a look at my son and told me to take him straight to our local Hospital immediately. By now I was worried, but calmly said a prayer, called my place of work that I had an emergence and won’t be at work, then drove over to Accident & Emergence (A&E) with my son.

After waiting for some hours we were finally seen by a Paediatrician who examined him and could not see why we were referred to A&E, but my mum instinct kicked in and I explained to her that the swelling on his ear was bigger than the day before and showed her the photo I took to prove my point. Based on the photo, she agreed the swelling was indeed larger now and my son needed to be admitted immediately.

My son was admitted around 11 am on the morning of 7th September 2015. At this point I was trying to keep calm while doctors explained that because my son was not yet two, he will need to have an operation under general anaesthesia to reduce the swelling. I was totally numb, my husband was somewhere on a long-haul flight and could not be reached, therefore the decision was left to me alone, so trusting the process I agreed for the operation to go ahead. We were taken to the children ward and my son was immediately put on a drip and things where put in place to get him ready for this major operation.

I am going to summaries quickly what happened in the next few hours. I called my friend Katherine to pick up my daughter from school, but due to more pressing operations than my son’s we were told at around 8 pm his operation was cancelled. At this point all my frustrations poured out of me, because in preparation that he was having an operation, my son had not eaten or drank anything since when he was admitted, so by now he was hungry and confused. I was totally upset because he was already poorly and then he was made to do without food for an operation that was now not going to happen.

I asked for my son to be given food asap and then asked to be discharged since he was now booked for the operation first thing the next day. This was finally allowed after I agreed to bring him back by 6 am for his next batch of antibiotics. We were discharged around 11 pm that night, I went straight to my friend’s house picked up my daughter and went home to prepare for the next day. I made sure my son got to eat something before 12 am which was the last time he could eat anything before his morning operation. I could not sleep, instead I kept vigil praying over everything concerning my children. At 5.15 am the next day, I dropped off my daughter with the same friend Katherine, then arrived at the hospital at 5.45 am in time for my son next round of antibiotics, as soon as this was administered I was offered a bed to sleep next to him, by now I was totally exhausted mentally and physically after being awake for over 24 hours due to the turn of events.

When I woke up after sleeping for only two hours, I had this peace come over me that everything will be fine. At 8 am a stretcher arrived to take my son to theatre for his operation, calming I followed while they explain the whole procedure. I was beside my son when the general anaesthesia was administered, one moment my son was sitting up the next thing he fell into a stumble right in front of my eyes, My heart stopped for a few seconds I am sure of that. He was wheeled straight into the theatre and I was quickly ushered out. The feeling that came over me cannot be adequately put into words, I ached all over and all I wanted was to swap places with my son right there and then.

I was led back to the children ward and I sat silently on my son’s bed for a few minutes when It dawned on me that this was the feast day of the birth of the Virgin Mary. For any good Catholic Christian you will know there are many significant dates that are celebrated in the church and this was one of them. Then it struck me that God has always been with my son since the beginning and there was a divine reason to why the operation was happening today and not yesterday. I went straight on my knees to ask for the intercession of Mother Mary. I prayed to her and asked her to go hold my son’s hand through the entire operation, since I cannot physically be there with him, I committed him to her loving hands and asked her to petition on my behalf her precious son Jesus Christ to heal him body and soul.

I also sent a message to my group of St. Lawrence mums’ at my daughter school, my sisters and one of my friend Nena to pray with me for my son’s healing. My son’s operation lasted roughly 40-50 mins, but I honestly did not dare breath or stop praying until I was told the good news that the operation was a success and he was now in recovery. It did my heart so much good to set my eyes on my son sitting up on the stretcher like if nothing happened, the only evidence of what he has just gone through was the bandage on his ear. I was allowed to climb onto his stretcher and as soon as he said mummy, I hugged him so tightly while holding back grateful tears of thanksgiving.

What this memory taught me was the importance of life and why it should not be taken for granted. I will not go into much details, but within two weeks after my son’s operation I resigned from a promising career to stay at home for about six months to get my son back to full health. Five years after that eventful day, I am thankful for the opportunity to share this memory with the hope it will touch someone to believe in the healing power of God and his faithfulness through even the tough and difficult times.

I know not all stories of praying for healing ends the way we want it to, but not only was my son healed physically, I received a healing in my mind that day that no amount of wealth or success can achieve. I prayed for my son’s healing, but in the process received healing when I did not know I needed one. Through this experience I was reminded about the importance of taking time to appreciate the people that God has put in your lives, because no one knows when our time on this earth will end, so find time to love and cherish them.

Today, like every feast day of the birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I attended evening mass to say thank you to God for the gift of my son and to pray for everyone who has ever had to take care of a sick child, is still taking care of a sick child/children or lost a child. I pray the good Lord will send his peace and healing where it is needed and your testimony will be to his glory whatever your story, Amen.

I also want to use this opportunity to say a big thank you to my wonderful family & friends, all the talented medical practitioners that use their gifts to save lives every day and to everyone who has patiently walked this personal memory with me (I promise to go back to my blogs that includes photos) 😊.