She was in her forties, forty-three or four, and had been suffering from abdominal pain. She had been to the gynecologist, who felt that she had an ovarian cancer. This was proved when he opened her abdomen and found multiple metastases throughout the peritoneal cavity. Being too wide spread to be operated on, the surgeon closed the abdomen and sent her home with the diagnosis of and inoperable primary cancer of the ovary with secondaries throughout the abdomen. She improved slightly at first, but then later began to deteriorate. I discussed, with her husband, telling her that she had an inoperable cancer as I felt this was the only fair thing to do, but he did not want me to speak to her about it. He felt that if she knew the diagnosis, she would go completely to pieces.
She had a very pleasant, supportive husband and two children and they were Roman Catholics. The priest was beginning to look in from time to time. After continuing over the next twelve months she became very ill and I sent her back into the hospital. Her abdomen had become enlarged and was now the size of a football and she was vomiting frequently. For two weeks before I sent her into the hospital her bowels had moved only once or twice, and with great difficulty. She was unable to walk around due to her weakness.
I visited her in the hospital a couple of times but then was surprised on my third visit to find that she had been discharged that Friday morning. This was unexpected as no-one had told me that she was being discharged. I immediately went around to her house. I let myself in the front door as was customary during my house calls, and found her upstairs lying in her bed. She looked ghastly. Her skin was the color of parchment and she was obviously wasting away. She was unable to walk by then as she was too weak. The fact was that they had not notified the husband or given him any notice that she was going to be sent home. As a result there was no one to look after her. She was there alone in bed. I sat down on the side of the bed and spoke to her, telling her I had gone to see her in the hospital and found that they had sent her home. I did not tell her that the hospital had told to me that they had sent her home to die. She was desperate to get home. They reckoned that she was going to die within 24 hours, perhaps 12 hour and as there was nothing they could do for her, they had simply sent her home.
I had spoken to her husband, Mr. S some time before and had told him that I felt that she should know that she had an inoperable cancer and was going to die. I felt that this was only fair to her. She might have things to settle, so he agreed that if she asked me I could tell her. I sat at the side of the bed with John's Gospel, the Living Version, in my pocket. I looked at her and she did look ghastly. She said, "Doctor, this is the end, isn't it?" She did not know the diagnosis as no one had told her. I said, "Well medicine has done everything it can for you, and there is nothing else for it to do. Really our lives are in higher hands than ours." She closed her eyes at the sudden realization that she was not going to get better. It dawned upon her and it was as though with the sudden collapse of all her hopes she imploded on herself.
God said to, "Pray for her." I had felt that I should and He urged me. I asked, silently, "Lord, if you want me to pray for her, get her to ask me to pray for her." Twenty to thirty seconds later she opened her eyes. And looked up at me and said, "Doctor, will you pray for me?" "Yes," I said, "I would be very pleased to pray for you. If you would like I will pray with you. Would you like me to do that?" "Yes, I would." she replied. So I prayed for her, for peace for her family, her husband, her children, and then the Lord was urging me to pray for her healing. I prayed that the Lord would heal her if it be His will. Suddenly I was convicted of unbelief. "That was not the prayer of faith," the Lord was telling me. "That was the prayer of unbelief!" So I continued praying like an airplane circling the airport to come in for a second landing. Again I said, "Lord I ask you in the name of Jesus to heal Mrs. S, Amen." Then, reaching into my pocket, I brought out a copy of the Living John's Gospel. Knowing that she was a Roman Catholic I said, "I find that this Living version of John's gospel makes Jesus real to us instead of being way back there 2000 years ago, or way up yonder in the inaccessible areas of the universe. He is here now, living and this I believe will make Jesus real to you. I suggest that you read this and ask the Lord to show himself to you as you read. With that, being very pushed for time, I went off.
Circumstances prevented my seeing her over the weekend until the Monday. I expected to receive a telephone call to say she was worse or had died. Two days later I went round to visit her. I walked straight into the house and started up the stairs. (Before when I prayed for her, I did lay hands on her foot, on the top of the bed covers). I was half way up the stairs when a voice came from the living room, "Doctor, I'm here." And so she was! She was sitting up downstairs. Unable to get up out of bed at all on the Friday, by the Monday she was sitting downstairs. In the course of the conversation she said, "Doctor, you know, I have asked the Lord Jesus into my heart, but I don't feel any different." It was only a stop from there to get her to accept what He said in faith and to thank Him for her salvation. She said, "I feel a bit better, I think." Of course she did! She was sitting downstairs and she was stronger. Again, I laid a hand on her and prayed for her recovery. This I did every week. This went on for about eight to nine weeks, during which she improved remarkably, to the stage of going out on her own. The large solid football swelling decreased. Her bowels returned to normality, in fact, they were more normal than they had ever been in her life. Her appetite returned and there was no more vomiting!
Then I had to go on holiday for two weeks. I left someone, (a theology student to go in and lay hands on her and pray once each week. In the event as it happened, he did not go in to see he). When I returned, she was worse. I don't understand this, but these are the facts. After a few weeks, I had to send her back into the hospital. This time she rapidly deteriorated and died about two weeks after being admitted. However, in actual fact during this time, her husband had come to the Lord; her children had come to the Lord. The priest who had visited once every week, (whom I did not meet until 4 years later), never prayed with her but on one occasion he asked her to pray, which she did. When I met him 4 years later, he told me what a tremendous impression the Lord working on her had made on him. It had changed his life. During the course of her illness, she had at least on two occasions said, "You know, Doctor, the Lord God has changed my life." And so He had. The Lord had changed the whole family and taken them from a place of despair into a place of victory and new Life in Him.