Читать книгу I didn´t ask to be gold - Patricia Adrianzén de Vergara - Страница 14

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SUFFERING BEGINS

Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow. . .

(Psalm 126:6ª)

Nataly was five months old when we arrived to our new city. She was chubby, cheeky, restless, and giggly. My husband used to joke she was his “chubby baby girl made of stainless steel,” because she was such a healthy baby. But, little by little, her energy began to wane. At first it was almost imperceptible, but then we were sure that our daughter was sick. We didn’t know what she had. Instead of gaining weight every month, as all babies do, she began to lose weight. She had recurring fevers; at first, they came every month and then, every fortnight. She was sweating profusely at night. Her lack of appetite eventually turned into anorexia. The doctor’s appointments began to be continuous. There was no sure diagnosis—only tests and guesswork, antibiotics, in case it was this or that, uncertainty, and fear. Yet Nataly continued to waste away.

At last, one of the doctors did a radiological examination of her lungs and diagnosed her with Koch’s disease. Mycobacterium tuberculosis was nestled in our daughter’s lungs. In addition to all the antibiotics she had been taking since she was nine months old, Nataly required a strict six-month TB treatment. These were very hard times. We had to administer her medications by force, holding her tightly. She threw up sometimes and had to be given them again. Her experience with meals was also traumatic. As she was completely anorexic, we fed her the same way we medicated her. She became weak, defenseless, constantly sick. We prayed often for her, anointing her, but God in His sovereignty had not decided to work supernaturally in this case.

After six months of medication, Nataly was reevaluated. When the nurse confirmed that the x-ray showed that the treatment had worked, I cried. Nataly was healthy.

We got home. In our bedroom, at our bedside, my husband and I knelt down to thank God. I vividly remember that moment—our tears, our feelings towards both our daughter and God, and our prayer:

“Thank you Lord, for allowing us to come through this trial. Thank you for accompanying us and for healing Nataly. Thank you because she is healthy. Now, please take care of her, Lord. Bless her, protect her, keep her from evil, glorify yourself in her little body. We give her to you once again. She is yours; she belongs to you. Thank you because we have been able to continue serving you with integrity of heart in the midst of all this.”

I naively thought it all ended there, but it did not. The next day Nataly had a 40-degree fever. We took her to the doctor and there was nothing to justify that temperature, though her throat was a little red.