Harry Stephenson had been sent home from the hospital to die of cancer of the bowels and stomach. The lining of his stomach had been completely eaten out by the malignancy.
In the beginning, his trouble had been diagnosed as a nervous ulcerated stomach. Every possible treatment was given to correct the condition, but it continued to grow worse, and as his physical discomfort increased and he grew weaker, it became more and more difficult to continue on his strenuous job as a steamfitter at the steelworks.
A Long Battle With Illness
Harry’s illness had been a lengthy one. A valued and longtime employee of Carnegie Steel Company in Duquesne, Pennsylvania, he had for eleven years spent most of his time off in doctor’s offices. No one could say he lacked good medical care, as in all, over the years, some twenty-eight doctors had been consulted.
Finally, five years after the onset of the sickness which no amount of medical treatment had thus far helped, his doctor urged hospitalization. After the doctors had done everything scientifically possible, Harry was released from the hospital no better than when he had entered, and over the next three years, his health declined with alarming rapidity. In shocking condition, he was hospitalized for the second time.
Facing a Hopeless Diagnosis
Harry Stephenson was now a wraith—a mere shadow of his former self. He had once been a big, strapping man, weighing in the vicinity of 190 pounds. Now he weighed only 114 pounds.
He was in continual severe pain despite the painkilling drugs he was taking. For some time his only nourishment had been an occasional glass of goat’s milk. Now he could not retain even water in his stomach, and the liquid necessary to sustain life he obtained by sucking ice.
At last, based on extensive laboratory tests, a firm diagnosis was finally made, and the news was as bad as it could be: inoperable cancer of the stomach and bowels.
The ten doctors on the board of the Veterans Administration Hospital pulled no punches. They told Harry precisely what the situation was: that they had done all for him that was medically possible for any human being, but in their opinion his condition was hopeless. He was thus discharged from the Pennsylvania hospital, given by the doctors approximately a month to live.
The Final Days at Home
Each day of the next three weeks seemed more tortuous than the last. The pain had become excruciating, and was now impervious to the increasingly large doses of morphine he was taking.
The odor characteristic of some terminal cancers had become so nauseating that Harry was unable, not only to sleep in the same bedroom with his wife but even on the same floor with other members of his family. He was obliged to sleep on an army cot loaned by a friend placed downstairs at the far end of the house.
The Stephenson family was desperate. Their daughter, Audrey, who had been saved at an early age, had been praying desperately for her father’s salvation and healing.
On that last Wednesday, Harry was in worse shape than he had ever been before. He was screaming like an animal with pain that no drug could alleviate. His frightened wife tried in vain to reach the V.A. hospital. She knew that they were better equipped there to help him than she was at home. But she was unable to…
To Be Continued…
Miraculous Monday: 10th April 2023
Miraculous Monday 035
Previous post
Next post