Some years ago, I had a cough that led to a chest infection, and later to an heart attack. Post-recovery, I was diagnosed with heart failure and, later, stroke.
Recovering from the stroke took me six months in the stroke unit - to talk, walk, and recognise people and things. I was in a wheelchair for those first six months. I had to be fed, washed and taught how to do things all over again like a child.
While I was recovering from the stroke incident, they found that my heart function was dropping, to as low as 15%. At this level, I was informed that I needed a new heart.
I was bedridden in Coronary Care Unit (CCU) and waited almost a year for transplant. Waiting for a heart transplant means you will have to wait for someone who has a match with your blood to die, and then they quickly harvest the heart and then transplant it within twenty-four hours.
After I had been on pump for six months, while waiting for compatible heart, the professor who was in charge of my care informed me that I might have 99.9% chance of not surviving, because other organs in my body were all failing. Meaning I have 0.01% chance of survival. So, they commenced me on end-of-life treatment - I was told I only have a few days to live.
But I told the professor with a tiny faith, like a grain of rice, that I believed in miracles. My faith and confidence in the power of prayer grew. And because my family, church and friends all over the world stood in the gap praying for me, I was so encouraged and fired up.
I spent that time of separation and isolation to ask God for mercy and forgiveness. But God waited until all human and medical efforts had been exhausted before He stepped in. When all hopes were lost, when the consultants had given up on me, God gave me the miracle heart, using the same impeccable healthcare teams. The transplant was successful and after a while, I was discharged.
However, about two years ago, I suffered a relapse, and my husband took me to the hospital. I was in coma for about ten days. While in coma, I saw soldiers come to the hospital ground in their hundreds. I saw a lot of familiar faces among them. That was how I knew they were in the hospital because of me.
It looked like they had come to fight a war. They marched fiercely to the hospital as though for battle. But when I looked at them closely, they had no weapons of war, like guns. They knelt and began to worship. They cried and rolled on the green grass as they sang a worship song saying "The Lamb of God has prevailed". They were on the hospital grounds days and nights as they continued to worship.
In that revelation, the hospital management told them to go away, but they declined. Although in real life, I was on a ventilator (breathing machine) and another machine called ECMO - where large tubes went down through my groin area, but in my spirit, I continued to see what was going on outside through a huge window.
Later, I saw a female doctor telling the hospital management that those people worshipping outside were the Millennials and there was nothing the hospital management could do about them!
When I regained consciousness, I remembered the revelations and knew that the battle was over.
God healed me! He used passionate and dedicated hospital staffs.
However hopeless your case might be, please don’t give up on God; keep praying and trust Him. He will come through for you.
My name is Bolaji Lola Adebiyi, and this is my story.
© SELAH SERIES 2023
