In 2015 in May Ursula and I were in Pietrelcina, about to return to Malta. I had been thinking about our eldest son, Francis for some time and something seemed to be urging me on to go and visit him in Barcelona. Ursula agreed that this was a good idea as she needed some time to prepare our house for sale. My son and his wife agreed to put me up for 17 days and we parted on our journey home, me off to Barcelona and Ursula to Malta.
During my stay, I sensed strongly that I was there for a reason and there were problems that needed solving. We ate together, played with their little son and I went for endless long walks to the center of Barcelona which I knew well. There was a lovely church nearby and I attended mass most evenings. I would frequently go with Lena to take our grandson to nursery school, and we had enjoyable conversations. At the end of May, I returned to Malta on an afternoon flight. The journey was uneventful and pleasant till I arrived at the airport.
I suddenly had the urge to go to the loo as I felt I had the ‘runs’ I managed to rush down the stairs and race to the toilets in the baggage reclaim area. Imagine my horror when the floor and the walls on the side became covered in blood. I tried to clean up and change in this cramped closet and rushed off to meet my wife who was waiting for me outside.
One well-intentioned lady kept yelling at me telling me that my case was partly open.
Fortunately, Ursula had arrived late and I came out just as she and our school driver drove up. I jumped into the car quickly and told them the story of what happened.
Ursula could hardly believe what I told her as I seemed to have recovered from it. We got home and I went out to the back garden and started trimming the overgrown climber. We ordered a take-away and thought that it was all over. I lay down in bed, feeling a little dizzy and then it happened again. It wasn’t over, it was only just beginning.
Doctor and then hospital soon followed that evening, and it took two days before it finally stopped. The amount of blood I had lost was phenomenal and they were amazed that I did not lose my blood pressure or need any transfusion. The diagnosis was that a non-malignant cyst had burst and that they would like to do more investigation when everything had calmed down.
I cannot begin to thank God that this did not happen when I was still on the flight or when I was staying with my son where everyone was saying how well I looked.
Six weeks later, I turned up at the hospital for a colonoscopy and warned the doctors that I had been told in the U.K.to avoid general anaesthetic as I reacted badly to it. This was ignored and when I emerged from the procedure the first thing, I said to my wife was that my chest felt awful, it seemed to be expanding and I was feeling very bad.
I went home and about a week later, the day before we were due to fly back to Italy, I woke up and half-jokingly said ’I think I’m dying” I don’t know what I was feeling but I went straight back to sleep. Two hours later, I was sitting downstairs, watching the news on T.V and my arms felt like lead and my chest felt as though there was an iron girder on top of it. I yelled out in pain and my son came running downstairs as I stood up and staggered around. Within minutes Ursula called an ambulance and within ten minutes it had arrived, and I was rushed off to hospital. It was the bumpiest ride I had ever known. I thought to myself “if anything is going to kill me, this will.” I really worried that I was not going to survive the journey. Ten minutes later I was being examined by a heart specialist.
Ursula told me later that she asked him, “was it a heart-attack” He replied, “No, it IS a heart attack. We have caught it in progress, and it seems that we will be able to stop it before it does more damage.”
I was wheeled straight into the theatre where they put three stents in my arteries and congratulated themselves on what a perfect procedure it was. They told me they were very confident that I would have little, if no ill effect from what they described as a ‘massive’ heart-attack.
They also told me that, had it not happened when it did, and I had caught the plane the next morning, it would surely have happened on the flight and that would more than likely would have been fatal.
It seems that the colonoscopy did trigger a reaction that had continued till the time of the attack.
The Great physician was truly present and gave everyone a helping hand.
This experience also taught me a lot about the place of good food in our lives. Through looking for an answer to these problems - heart health and colon health, we have discovered new and wonderful natural ways to avoid these problems. Thank God for the world He made.