My Mother the Miracle
66
My Mother the Miracle
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781490766751 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing |
| Publication date: | 11/18/2015 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 66 |
| File size: | 117 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
My Mother the Miracle
By Faydia Thomas, Locksley Thomas, Dahalia Trevenen, Zetilda Thomas
Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2015 Faydia ThomasAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4907-6674-4
CHAPTER 1
As Told by Faydia
Birthday Surprise
Today is April 11th, 2015, the one year anniversary of the day that would forever change my life. To many people it's just another regular day, but to me, it's a day that holds so many memories. As I sit in silence, the memories come fl owing back. Bittersweet memories, memories I want to forget sometimes, but I'm reminded that although it hurts to remember, I have to remember, and I have to keep remembering, in order to share this testimony with the world. I now understand that many families experience what my family endured, but few of them come out victorious. Not very many end with a shout of hallelujah, with tears of joy, with gratitude that only the Lord God Himself can understand.
This is my version of what took place with my mother. There may be areas of my portion of this experience that do not completely match those of my other siblings due to the fact that each person's experience is based on how we recalled the situation individually and the effects of the trauma on each of our memories. Our main reason for telling this story is to encourage someone who may be in a similar situation as we were. You may be a child whose parent is said to be dying, or you may be a husband who has gotten a bad report regarding your wife or vice versa. I hope that reading our story will encourage you to believe in the power of prayer and the power of Jesus Christ. I have proven Him to be the ultimate healer, deliverer, protector, and everything that is good. He's become more real to me because of what my mother went through, and I hope and pray that you will allow Him to prove Himself to you as well. Remember, when you feel like you can't go on anymore, His strength will carry you, just like He carried me. Allow Him to carry you. Allow Him to strengthen you. Allow Him to become real to you. His word declares that His strength is made perfect in our weakness. He is God Almighty all by Himself, and He is awesome.
It is the day before my birthday, and I've been awake since five a.m. I am awake just thinking of the goodness of the Lord and how awesome He has been in my life. Although I'm worshipping Him and giving Him praise, there are not enough words to express my gratitude to my heavenly father for His faithfulness, His loving kindness, His tender mercies, His awesomeness, and more than anything, just for being God in my life. While I'm giving Him all the glory and all the praise, the tears continue to flow as I thank Him for the miracles that only he was able to perform, the miracles that still amaze me.
April 12, 2014, was going to be my best birthday ever, or so I thought. I had big plans for a nice dinner party at my favorite restaurant. My family and my close friends would be there to celebrate the big day with me. I was looking forward to enjoying my 35th birthday with the people I love most.
In order to prepare for my birthday the next day, I had taken the day off from work on April 11th. I would be taking my mother to the store to purchase some items for a friend in Jamaica, and then my sister, Ophelia would accompany me to the beauty supply store as well as the nail salon. My mother was dressed before I was and decided to wait for me on the porch. After a few minutes, she came inside and told me she had just thrown up and wasn't feeling very well. Neither of us thought it was anything serious, even when she had to throw up again in the bathroom before we left the house.
Ophelia lives just a few minutes away from us, so it didn't take a long time to get to her apartment. However, by the time we got there, my mother was crying and asking that I take her back home since she is in too much pain to go to the store, so I headed back home. It was not strange to us hearing my mom crying and saying that she is in pain. This has been something that we have always known ever since we were children. This is how it was, this was the norm for us. We would leave home in the morning and my mother would be crying, and majority of the time she would be crying when we returned home from school. She could never really explain what she was feeling that made her cry. The best she could do was try to explain to us that she felt strange. This time was different though. Our lives were about to change, and we had absolutely no idea how much. This was a battle for which we were not prepared, a battle that took us totally by surprise, a battle that would be the ultimate test of our faith in God.
Evening came and my mom was still not feeling better. By now, my brother, Locksley had gotten home from work and was in the room with us. She had taken a nap and had something to eat but that didn't seem to help. Ophelia and I tried to ask her to try and explain to us whether she was having physical pain or just not feeling well. She told us she had pain in her stomach. By this time, the situation was getting worse so we decided to call our Apostle for prayer. Apostle prayed and told us to make her some garlic tea, make sure she doesn't go to sleep and then take her to the Emergency Room. After she drank the tea, we told my mom that we were going to take her to the Emergency Room. She nodded her head but asked us to allow her to lie back down for a little while longer before getting dressed. While she was lying down with her eyes closed she started throwing up again. We got her up and cleaned up, while she was telling us that she didn't even know she was vomiting. We realized it was time to get her to the hospital, so my brother and I helped her up in order to get her dressed. As we lifted her, my mother's eyes started rolling back in her head and her body collapsed in our hands. We screamed her name, telling her to come back, while pleading the blood of Jesus over her. This was all we knew ... We knew to call on Jesus. While we were calling on Jesus, we also called 911, and the ambulance was on the way. My mom somewhat regained consciousness but was extremely disoriented. I will never forget how chaotic those few moments were. We had to get her dressed, get ourselves dressed to go with her, get the kids prepared to go, decide which of us would ride in the ambulance with her, among other things. There were so many decisions to make in such a short time. This specific moment comes back to haunt me at times, because no child should have to see their mother or father like that. The ambulance came and we had to answer a few questions from the paramedics before they left. My brother rode alongside my mom. Ophelia and I left for the hospital shortly after with the children.
When we got to the hospital, I went in to see my mom and was told that she passed out twice on the way to the hospital and once in the room. The hospital is approximately five minutes from our house. Hearing that my mom passed out three times since she left the house scared me since it seemed as if the situation was getting more serious by the minute. I went to speak with the nurse in charge and was given some intake documents to read and sign. As I signed, I looked up at the clock in the nurse's station and realized it was now 12:05 a.m. on April 12th. I was checking my mother into the hospital on my birthday. I could not control the tears as they rolled down my face. It didn't feel real. This all had to be a dream and I'm sure I'll wake up soon. At least that's what I thought but it was all very real. As the nurse tried to console me, she told me that it doesn't seem to be that bad or they would have my mom in one of the rooms on the other side of the station. I felt somewhat better, hopeful that things would be better soon. I was given my mom's clothes and personal items in a bag while they took her to run tests. As I walked back to the waiting room with the bag in my hand, I wondered what would happen next. Later on, my brother and sister told me that when they saw me walk out with the bag in my hand, they didn't know what to think. They both instantly thought our mother had died.
We waited for quite a while in the waiting room and were finally able to see my mom again. This time, when I went in to see her, she was no longer in the room she was previously in; she was now on the other side of the nurse's station. Based on what I was told earlier by the nurse, I knew then that something was terribly wrong. This was not going to be a quick fix. I was asked to leave again in order for them to take my mom for more tests. This took hours. The next time we saw my mom was around 4:00 a.m., when the security guard came to get us. He told us that my mother was being transferred to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and that he was going to take us there. My brother and sister and I looked at each other in disbelief. Was this really happening?
We got to the Intensive Care Unit by walking down a few long empty corridors and then taking an elevator. I will never forget the feeling of utter despair and hopelessness as the three of us, along with our two children, followed the security guard. We were like zombies. We didn't speak; we just walked in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. We were all in shock. There were millions of questions racing through our minds and no one to give us answers. I was the eldest one present of my siblings at the time but I couldn't think of an encouraging word or anything to say to my younger brother and sister. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were, back to the day before when we were all happy and planning for my birthday.
Nothing could prepare me for the state my mother was in by the time we got to the ICU. I don't remember exactly how everything was. I believe that in a way I blocked that scene out of my mind. She was medicated and I know there were tubes in her nose, cords all over and machines beeping. I remember just wanting to scream. There was absolutely no way I could deal with this. My mom was just lying there looking lifeless, with tubes up her nose, and didn't even know we were there with her.
As I stood there looking at her, I thought how good of a person my mother is and always was. How she helped so many people even before we migrated to America. She was the one who would always remember the elderly people and their needs. There would be days when she would cook and have us all bringing food to people in different directions. We all had someone else's house to go to. She was the one people could always depend on for help in whatever way necessary. As long as my mother had it, she would give it, and many times she gave others her last, not to mention her children. She was the one who people's children came to visit and never returned home because of the love and comfort that my mother gave them. Numerous people lived in our home while we were growing up. There was almost always someone at our house at dinner time. It was rarely just us as a family. There were times when as children it would get overwhelming, but we learnt at a young age that it was better to give than to receive. My mother was always a giver, a helper, somebody's confidant, somebody's banker (back in Jamaica that is?). She would always encourage people to save their money, and if they couldn't save it themselves they would bring it to her to hold for them. Most importantly, my mother was a woman of God. She was a loyal Christian and worked for the Lord for as long as I've known her. How could something this horrible be happening to such a good person? God, what is going on?
Those were just some of the things racing through my mind as I stood in the room looking down at my mother on the bed. Once I had a chance to speak with the nurse, I was told that my mom's blood count was extremely low and that she had been given blood upon arrival to the hospital. Shortly after, I was told that we should go home and rest since she would be under medication for quite a while. We prayed and left. We got back home around 6:00 a.m.
Early Saturday morning, we returned to the hospital and were told that my mother had gotten worse. According to the nurse, although she had been given blood since she was admitted, her blood count was still low. Her blood pressure was extremely low as well and continued to decrease. In her own words, the nurse said she didn't understand where the blood was going, because my mom's body was not showing that she received the blood. This was rather puzzling to me.
Because my mother's condition had gotten worse, my brother suggested that someone spend the night with her for the rest of the time she would be admitted. Our Apostle also instructed us not to leave my mother alone so we decided to take turns staying with her. This way, someone would always be there.
On Sunday morning, I got up with the intention of going to church and then to the hospital. Before leaving for church, I received a call from a kidney specialist, informing me that my mom's kidneys are failing and that she needs my permission to give her dialysis. I could not believe what I was hearing. I was literally speechless and because of that, I was told that she was going to give me approximately twenty minutes to make the decision. She was on her way to the hospital and would call me back upon her arrival. I froze. I never thought in my wildest dreams that one day I would have to make any such decision for my mother, or for anyone for that matter. In a way, the way things were unfolding was like a scene in a movie ... It was all so surreal. It was hard to believe that we were in this predicament. Things were happening so fast, we hardly had time to comprehend day one, and now we had added complaints, much more serious complaints. We made the decision for them to go ahead with dialysis and informed the Specialist when she called me again.
We went to church shortly after making the decision. During the service, my Apostle prayed for my mother as well as my family. She told us to trust God and if we're going to trust God, we should trust Him, and not worry. I took comfort in those words. I knew my Apostle lived by faith, so that motivated me in the sense that if we stood on faith, God would work things out in our favor. She also told us to take comfort in knowing that our mother is a Christian. Although those words should have given us peace in the storm, it was not easy to comprehend all the things that were happening and that would eventually happen.
By this time, my younger sister, Dahalia was already on her way home. She realized how serious our mother's condition was from what we explained that the doctors said and got on the next train possible. She lives in Pennsylvania so she wouldn't arrive until the next day. She normally takes the auto train to Sanford, Florida and drive the rest of the way home to Fort Lauderdale. I dreaded that trip for her. While she was driving home, we received the news that my mom's kidneys were failing.
Eventually, we were also informed that her liver is not functioning properly, her heart was failing and she was still not able to maintain her own blood pressure. Everything was failing. "Multi-organ failure" is the term the doctor used. I could not disclose any of this information to Dahalia while she was travelling, since she was alone and couldn't handle hearing anything else. She'd specifically ask us not to give her any more bad news until she was home.
Dahalia arrived on Monday and we all went to the hospital. The ultimate bombshell was dropped on us, when we were informed that two large tumors were detected in my mother's lower abdomen. According to the doctors, it was cancer and in stage four. My mother has stage 4 cancer is what they were telling us. That was the diagnosis. It was like an unexpected slap in the face. After all, enough was already going on. I never expected cancer to be a diagnosis, since to my knowledge, no one in the family had cancer. Everything was just coming at us like daggers, one after the other. It was beyond overwhelming.
It was comforting having my other sister home. I needed the extra shoulder to lean on, and knowing that she was there with us meant a whole lot. When she heard that our mother was admitted in the hospital, she didn't bother to wait around to hear what else was going on. She selflessly threw a few items in her suitcase and bought the first train ticket possible. We laughed about it later on when she couldn't find any shoes in her suitcase. She was in such a hurry to pack that she forgot to pack shoes (lol). She didn't care though, the fact that she was here with us was all that mattered. She didn't only come to be with her mother, she came to be with her siblings as well, because she knew we needed her. I'll always appreciate that. She came to be with us! That means a lot to me but honestly, that is just the kind of person Dahalia has always been, very selfless and reliable, even before she decided to become a soldier.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from My Mother the Miracle by Faydia Thomas, Locksley Thomas, Dahalia Trevenen, Zetilda Thomas. Copyright © 2015 Faydia Thomas. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
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Table of Contents
Contents
1. As Told by Faydia, 1,2. Locksley's Recollection, 23,
3. According to Dahalia, 31,
4. Zetilda's Version, 51,
5. Acknowledgements, 57,