MIRACLE AND THANKSGIVING AT THE HOLY TEMPLE IN JERUSALEM!

MIRACLE AND THANKSGIVING AT THE HOLY TEMPLE IN JERUSALEM!

Remy Ilona

08065300351; remy.ilona@gmail.com
Will I ever stop being grateful to the God of Israel? Two miracle workers were used by God to save mylife. They carried out a laporoctomy on me, opened my side, brought out my colon, made an incision on it,from where I passed waste for 2 months, to enable the natural openingto heal.After two and a half months I went back to the 2men of God (the surgeons). After examinations they confirmed that mywounds had healed, and they put back the colostomy successfully. Withlaparoctomy (entire opening of the stomach, and bringing out of allthe large intestines and colon for cleansing) and colostomy operationssuccessful I'm in no doubt that He who rescued Israel from Egypt, Hewho made sure that the Igbos were not completely wiped out during theBiafra war, and He whom Israel worships, intervened and saved me fromthe clutches of death. May the God of Israel, and Him alone be blessedand praised!


I offered the thanksgiving above because of the following episode.

In November 2009 I went to Maiduguri; to try to avoid impending death, and return to life. I believe that the God of Israel; the God that I offered the prayer above to; led me to Maiduguri where the duo of Dr. Uche Eni and Dr. Na’aya performed the real miracle which I will describe shortly hereafter.

The two are consultant general surgeons in the University of Maiduguri Teaching Hospital, Maiduguri, Nigeria.

The following story is about sickness, near death, medical practice in Nigeria, faith, real miracles, and restoration.

My problems began during a working visit to Lagos. Staying in Victoria Island while I carried out the work that took me to Lagos I began to eat junk food. As Victoria Island lacks places where an Igbo could find Igbo food such as akpu and ofe onugbu, etc, an Igbo may find himself relying on the wrong foods; such as meat-pies, egg-rolls, and mineral water.

I had constipation, and anal fissures/haemorrhoids. While I was doing my best to treat this condition many things happened. Literally I put one foot in the grave, and would have put the other in too, if God had not saved me.

The following was what happened.

I am reporting my experiences and observations; not as a doctor which I am not, but as a fully grown rational adult who can understand when things are done rightly, and when they are done wrongly.

DESCENT TO NEAR DEATH
I am a lawyer, researcher and author. These three disciplines sharpen ones ability to reason, and understand. Bad luck led me to a surgeon who works at the University of Jos Teaching Hospital, Plateau State, Nigeria. The man who describes himself as a consultant general, and cardio thoracic surgeon, incidentally hails from Anambra; my home state. And he is a professor of medicine. Recommended by a friend I consulted this man at his private centre in the central part of Jos, and he agreed to give me treatment for what he called a ‘very minor ailment’. Following the surgery to repair the damage which I had suffered one thing that I was sure of was that I was not getting well or even better. And I was very worried because I hadn’t regained the ability to pass waste through the natural organ. Dutifully I was complaining to the nurses. And I am sure that they were transmitting my complaints to the professor. I followed up by complaining to him, but he waved aside my complaint in some anger. Nearly two weeks after I entered the medical centre I was discharged with the instruction that I should report after one month for a check-up. After returning home I continued to follow the professor’s instructions; to administer sitz bath on the site of the operation with water that was at 100 degrees centigrade. I was not feeling better; and was not regaining the ability to exercise some of my bodily functions, but because I felt that a professor of medicine would not have made a mistake carrying out the repair of anal fissures/haemorrhoids I believed that what I was experiencing was normal. And that I would get better in time. But I did not get better. Rather my condition continued to get worse. In addition to my inability to regain the use of the organ on which the operation was carried out, with time I began to loose the ability to sleep, to urinate, and to walk or stand erect. In all I practically did not sleep for I month. Meanwhile I continued to call the professor to complain about my deteriorating condition. I can still hear his voice telling me to ‘sit on it (my ailment)’. Slowly but surely my life was passing away, and I felt it, and was filled with dread and foreboding, but still could not believe that the professor did not carry out the operation appropriately. I continued to complain to the professor, and at a point he instructed me to proceed to Jos for a check-up. I traveled to Jos, and checked into his medical centre. And this gentleman continued trying to harm me. During my first admission at his medical centre he had injured my arm while trying to insert acanular into my veins for IV infusions. During my second visit his nurses continued to carry out his instruction that the saline solution for my sitz bath should be with boiling water. And he sent me for an XRAY which returned a result that my intestines, colon, and rectum were filled with desiccated faeces. After seeing the result of the XRAY the professor began to apply enema to the site of the operation which he had confirmed that it was badly infected. All I know was that my condition continued to worsen. And the professor discharged me; issuing me with a medical report that I had recovered fully, and completely. I returned to Abuja; practically dying. Another round of consulting of doctors in Abuja ensued. Most of the doctors that I consulted turned me away because, I believe they felt that I would die. At this point my jewel of inestimable value; my wife Ife’yi’nwa decided that I must go to Maiduguri, to see her doctors; Uche Eni, and Na’aya. Then she raised an alarm that a calamity was about to happen. Money issues arose because much of my own funds had been expended paying the bills of the professor, so my niece; Uche Onwumelu Umeokolo who is as dear to me as a daughter tearfully led a fund-raising effort. Some substantial funds were raised and I proceeded to Maiduguri. By the time I got to Maiduguri I was feeling like a corpse. With my faithful friend Ndubisi Ezeatum I made my way to the Borno Medical Clinic; an excellent health facility founded by Dr. V. C. M’oghalu, an old benefactor of mine.


COMMENCEMENT OF RESUCITATION
Five minutes after entering the clinic in the semi-desert town of Maiduguri, I was sitting face to face to face with Drs. Eni and Na’aya, barely able to talk, and to even stand.

The two men reminded me of Moses who was the greatest, but also the humblest Israelite to exist in his time. Very humble men, they hadn’t any of those airs that some Nigerian achievers usually have. These men are miracle workers who do the job they have dedicated their lives to doing with passion, and love. Jocularly addressing each other as “my boss” they began the work that saved my life. To restore me back to good health they carried out on me some surgeries that many doctors that I am friendly with have confirmed that they were fearful, and very risky to be carried out in Nigeria. To remove the desiccated faeces they carried out a laparoctomy on me, and gave me a colostomy, so that the injuries inflicted on me during the initial operation by the professor, which had hitherto not healed would have a chance to heal.

Today I am completely healthy. And I am grateful to God, Who gave me a good wife, niece, family, and friends. And very importantly, Who gave to humanity the duo of Dr Eni and Dr. Na’aya.

For saving me from an early death I resolved to sing the praises of the ultimate Authority for the rest of my life. In furtherance of this did I compose the afore-mentioned prayer of thanksgiving. And to make sure that it gets to His primary earthly place of abode, my big brother Herman Storick, a man of Israel from America ensured that the thanksgiving got to the crevices of the remaining wall of the beth Hamikdash (the Holy Temple in Jerusalem); one of the places that my prayers for good health ended up in.