There are believers and there are non-believers. I would categorize myself as the former, and have always believed that the scales of universe’s justice balance out sooner or later. However, today, I am left wondering about the absurdity of this justice and am praying for a miracle.
After almost seven years of marriage, she had a baby girl; a child that she had longed for and doted on as soon as she whimpered into this world. This child today is four weeks old but instead of being cuddled in the mother’s lap, she is in cradling in the ICU, pierced with needles all over. Her little body is being fed with antibiotics via an IV and the prognosis is gut wrenching. This little angel, who seems to be sleeping in peace, is supposedly suffering from a congenital bone marrow disorder. While the doctors are waiting for the reports for a final diagnosis, they suspect either a rare form of leukaemia (ruled out just yesterday by other physicians) or an auto immune disease which could slowly start impacting her spleen, liver and lings one by one. The only course of treatment would be a bone marrow transplant, which cannot be undertaken on an infant of her age. She is going to go through an agonising biopsy later this morning and that in itself is going to be tricky given her soft still forming bones.
The little angel is suffering pain that she cannot even express. The mother is crying and suffocating within but expression of her grief is not helping. There is one thing other than medicine that could help; and that is prayer. I believe in the power of numbers and in the strength of sincere prayer. As I am praying for a miracle, I humbly request all those reading this to pray that the one above us waves his magic wand and cures this little child. There would be justice in this world when the little one can return home to her naming ceremony, play with her parents, grow up holding their hands and finally become a young woman that the parents can be proud of.
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