After about a month, my doctors threatened to hospitalize me if I did not show any improvement. My health had stagnated over the previous month, and my doctors were worried that I could suffer permanent damage if I didn't get rid of the MRSA infection. While one of the doctors explained this to me over lunch in the hospital's cafeteria, I broke down. I could not spend another night in the hospital ever again. Not after what I had gone through previously. My doctor gave me another month to improve. But if I came to the next check-up still sick, I'd be admitted right away.
It took me about a week to fully digest what my doctor said. I realized that I was pretty much screwed. The antibiotics weren't doing anything, and I had no reason to believe they'd suddenly start working over the next month. My family, most notably my grandparents, believed strongly in the power of prayer. Somehow, my grandpa convinced me to attend church with him one Sunday morning so the congregation could lay hands on me.
I was very uncomfortable during that Sunday's church service. I don't remember what the sermon was about, but I do remember squirming in my seat while the pastor preached. Something felt very wrong, but I just couldn't figure out what was wrong. All that I know was I felt very uncomfortable, and I had to actively fight off the urge to bolt out of the church, especially when it came time for people to pray for me.
To be honest, I left that church feeling no different about my health situation than before. I was just relieved to get away from everyone. I was still convinced that I would end up back in the hospital, where I'd undergo a PICC line placement procedure. Even if I could go home as soon as I (and a few family members) learned how to properly use and care for the PICC line, it still didn't help ease the dread or anxiety of being hospitalized.
A few weeks later, I woke up in the middle of the night with an exceptionally bad coughing fit. I just could not stop coughing, no matter how much water I drank or how much I tried to stretch myself out while pacing around my bedroom. My grandparents were asleep in the room next door to mine, and were woken up by my painful, barking coughs. They knew there wasn't anything they could do to help me, and I didn't want any help anyway. So, my grandparents laid awake in bed, silently praying for me. My grandparents didn't realize the other was awake.
When my grandma finished praying, she closed her eyes and opened them immediately, thinking she forgot to turn the lights off in the bedroom. She said she saw light when she closed her eyes, even though when she opened her eyes back up again, her room was pitch dark. At the same time she saw this light, my coughing abruptly stopped, and she heard me getting back into bed and sighing as I fell back asleep. My grandma closed her eyes and again saw the light, but instead of opening her eyes back up again, she kept her eyes closed as the light slowly faded. She felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over her as she fell asleep. My grandpa also felt this same sense of peace come over him as he too, closed his eyes and went back to sleep, completely unaware of the light my grandma saw.
The next morning, I remarked that I felt well-rested despite my midnight coughing fit, and I felt like I could breathe better too. Then, my grandma told me about the light she saw in her sleep, which appeared at the same time I stopped coughing. My grandma hardly ever dreams, and never has had a vision before or since. She had no reason to lie, and was a terrible liar anyway, so I didn't think she was lying. Plus, I remembered how quickly I stopped coughing the night before. I went from being unable to catch my breath, to being completely clear in just a couple seconds. I didn't feel anything get dislodged, and I didn't cough anything out. I just suddenly felt much better again, and was able to fall back into a deep sleep for the rest of that night.
This gave me something to ponder for the rest of the day. I barely coughed on the way to school, at school, on the way home, or even at home for the rest of the day. I felt like I could breathe in deeply and clearly. My lungs weren't rattly anymore like they had been. Something happened the night before, I was just not sure what. My grandparents believed it was God's doing, and while I was skeptical of their claims, I went along with it. I just hoped that if it was really God, He'd show Himself to me further. In fact, I asked for solid, verifiable evidence of His existence. If God could provide me with that, then I'd be a believer for life.
