I believe in miracles. I believe that sometimes people are miraculously healed. I also believe that sometimes healing comes in other ways. Mine came in the form of a gentle, soft spoken surgeon, who looked me in the eye and said, "You must have this operation."
I had been to others over the years - ones who left the choice to me. I had also seen what scoliosis surgery involved. The surgical instruments looked unsettlingly like the tools my husband had in his shop, and I always decided I'd just wait.
So that day in Dr. Sanders office I said, "I need someone to tell me what to do." And he did. The curve in my back had progressed to the point of threatening my pulmonary function and my heart. If nothing was done, the prognosis wasn't good.
My fifty-first birthday was an eventful one. I slept through most of it as Dr. Sanders and his team painstakingly inserted three rods into my back, re-sectioned the ribs on my right side, and put me all back together again. Several months later I was walking around with a not perfect, but much improved back.
The day before my surgery, Dr. Sanders checked me over one more time. Before I left his office he said, "I'm going to church tonight, and I'll be praying for you." I felt such a sense of peace and gratitude.
I saw Dr. Sanders this morning. I go once a year just to make sure everything is still where it's supposed to be. It will be the last time I see him as his patient. He is now seventy-nine years old and will be retiring at the end of the month. He is such a kind, dear man. I reluctantly said good-by when the exam was over and then walked over and gave him a hug. He kissed me on the cheek.
He is the miracle the Father used to heal my poor, sick back.
linking to Emily's imperfect prose