Healings (NDE Recovery Journal, part 8)

Greta, in my weekly recovery group, experiences physical healing - twice.

Thanks to those who like to check on my health after these posts. I am doing OK! Please note that these entries were a part of my journal of healing from my near-death incident. So although they are in the present tense, please know they do not reflect current events. :-)

WELCOME TO MY NEW FRIENDS!

72 days post NDE

A gal with an alias of Greta who often attends my weekly recovery group has experienced physical healing twice in the past couple of months. In group, we include a prayer and share time. And when I pray for these ladies, for each request, the Holy Spirit leads, not I. I tend to pray long, as led, and we sometimes wrap it up with a few tears flooding the table.

It means something to be prayed for by name when you know someone cares for you – I know because I’ve felt that too.

I keep praying for Greta even outside of group because she is now mostly bed-bound and in horrible pain. She has extreme endometriosis and the tissue is also wrapped around her colon. The professionals tell her that she will lose a lot of her colon for sure and have to wear a bag. She’s been so scared that she’s avoided surgery. Due to attending group and the emotional healing she works so hard on, she finally drums up the courage. She surprises me. “I’m scheduling the surgery. I can’t do this pain anymore. And you keep saying when you pray for me that you don’t see continuing disability for me.”

She also started seeing male doctors, something she thought she could never do again after the 25-year abusive marriage she had fled from.

We pray for healing a few times. I still don’t see her as being disabled, even as we pray for her past disability to be approved (she hasn’t been able to work in four years). When I pray, I see a vibrant and healthy future Greta. But now she’s lost a tremendous amount of weight as she can’t keep food in very long and is very skinny. Sick-skinny.

Greta schedules the surgery and learns she has a chance of death (her white blood cell count is very low), and if she lives, very likely will experience disability. They almost cancel the surgery but decide to have her sign a bunch of paperwork instead.

The night before her surgery as I am praying, I clearly hear, “Greta is going to be OK.”

The Day of Surgery

We leaders do not keep in touch with our ladies outside of group for multiple reasons (boundaries in leadership are important) so I don’t get to let her know what I hear, but I sleep peacefully after that.

When Greta returns to group, she has quite the story. After multiple scans showing the masses of bad tissue, the doctors opened her up to find only one small pocket of bad tissue to remove. She woke up a whole new woman.

But now Greta has a second problem.

She’s had multiple sets of bloodwork done, and her white blood cell count is still too low. Her medical team is sending her to oncology/hematology as it is a sign of leukemia.

“I am nervous, but I trust Him, Julie. I’ve spent some time stressing for sure but why would He bring me this far only to meet up with cancer?”

Her new announcement of yet more scary bloodwork shocks me after what He’s already healed her from. I honestly want to hop on the table and shake a fist at the sky. Plus, we’ve been praying! Why God, has healing not happened yet?

Instead, I carefully place on a mask of unconcern and nod. “Well then. We pray more.”

And we do.

I receive word a couple of weeks later that Greta’s bloodwork now shows her white blood cell count in a normal range.

My Turn

Speaking of cancer…now it is my turn. Three months ago, I endured a punch biopsy on a spot above my lips which just wouldn’t go away. A carcinoma. I won’t go into details but my part-time environment has not been healthy and yes, cancer can be a side effect of that.

A needle above the lip is pretty painful. But I sit still, even as my eyes well. “Maybe the biopsy got rid of it all.” I grin at the doctor later. “It was quite the punch.”

She smiles at me, getting the biopsy joke. “Sorry. It did not have what we would call clear lines. You’ll have to see the surgeon.”

I go home to work on healing. I use frankincense oil on it, once the wound heals (takes forever plus I end up needing some antibiotics/steroids due to my EDS). And then I think, why not - so I lay my finger on my own face and I ask God to honor it with healing. After all, He didn’t send me back from heaven for nothing. I still have work to do!

Later, I tell my husband that I’m pretty sure the cancer is gone. It doesn’t hurt when I press on it anymore and yes, even after the punch healed, one side was still sore.

I finally get to the surgeon. I’m not nervous. I even go all by myself. Yay, me. Yes, God continues to give me confidence and greatly lower my anxiety. Thank you, Jesus.

“It will probably take more than one scraping,” the surgeon explains. “It is deep and I just want you to be prepared,”

“One scraping is all you need, doc.” I smile and hop on the table. Not that I’m excited or anything. Trust me, more shots into that area is the last thing that I want.

He laughs. “Okay.”

Several shots later and one scraping done, I end up with four stitches inside and five on the outside. But it’s done. A half-hour later, he and his nurse burst (yes) into the door. “We’re done.”

“Just one scraping?”

He stops briefly, looking puzzled. “There’s ah – no cancer. No cancer in the samples I took. You are clean.”

I laugh. “Doctor, I laid my hands and prayed over this spot. And I used my frankincense and tea tree oil.” I find myself standing confidently and trying to meet the eyes of the nurse, who suddenly looks everywhere but at me.

“Well, it worked.”

Indeed.

More Battle

But it still isn’t over. I am not healing like I am supposed to and I wake up with clown lips and the swelling extending up and around my right eye. I’m doing all the “things” – ibuprofen, Tylenol, ice packs, but who is this stranger in the mirror who looks like she got beat up? I message the doctor.

“Normal. More ice.”

Not normal. By the time I start itching, I figure it out. You see, when we have rare medical issues, not every doctor gets it. How could they? We really do have to get educated and be our own advocates.

I vaguely remember an allergy test from 30 years ago when the paper I took home said “avoid any ‘caine’ medications…novocaine, lidocaine…”

Oh, for goodness sakes. What a ridiculous journey. So, this is day three after my procedure and I down all my oral allergy meds, adding Benadryl and one steroid pill. “The doctor does not feel prednisone will help your healing.” Another nurse tells me, trying to be patient with this wayward patient, I’m sure.

(I flashback here back to the doctor in the ER after I went to heaven, who told me that I know what I need and to make sure and insist on it so here I go, probably losing a good surgeon.)

“It’s OK. I’m not asking for a prescription. I’m taking what I have. I know me.”

I send a message to some prayer warrior friends, work friends, and my prayer team at Cascade Christian Writers.

And sure enough, an hour later, I can see out of that eye again. I continue with the Benedryl and although I can’t stay awake, I recognize myself in the mirror again. As soon as I go without the Benedryl, it starts to swell again around my eyes. I mean, I literally look down on my face and only see a huge cheek. Cheeky! But after I take the Benedryl, it goes way down.

I have two more steroid pills still (no one wants to prescribe those anymore) and they stay in the bottle. Emergency use only.

This must be what getting botox fees like. But for days and days? As I dress today, I again say, “why not? Why not pray for yourself, Jules? You are always praying for other people.” I place my finger over the spot and ask Jesus to reduce the swelling, flush out the allergens, and clear all the tissues in His name. And not even twenty minutes later, I realize it is reduced by half.

The doctor later apologizes that they didn’t understand the full ramifications. I guess I’ll keep him after all.

All this healing, of course, is not ME. It is all my LORD and I am unsure why He is choosing to honor some of my requests. It surely feels like too big of a subject to really dwell on. For now.

What’s the Difference Between Paid and Free Subscribers?

All subscribers get access to my latest posts—I want everyone to have those. However, if you’d like to read posts older than three months, including my near-death experience, you’ll need to be a paid subscriber.

Paid subscribers also receive free copies of my new books (published or pre-released) and, soon, exclusive invites to special Zoom events.

For just the cost of a latte and a half per month, you’re not only fueling my ongoing research on heaven but also helping those who can’t afford a subscription. Your support truly means everything to me! :-)