HEALING ANGELS

I was born with a heart condition known as Tretology of Fallot, which means I have four defects on the right side of my heart. The doctor knew I would need surgery sooner or later.

In June 1976, at the age of seven, I had my first catherization and that determined I needed my first open-heart surgery.

They patched up the holes in my heart, but they also found a problem with my pulmonary valve. After the surgery, the doctors told my family I was nothing short of a miracle.

When I was twelve, my feet began to swell, which was a sign my heart was in trouble again. I had a third catherization and a second open-heart surgery. This time a pig valve was placed over my pulmonary valve to make it work properly. As the surgery progressed, they started to lose my blood pressure adn worked hard to save my life.

"You've got a very sick little girl," the doctors told my dad.

"She'll be fine," he said. "She's in the Lord's hands."

They said the valve would last ten years and it did. To the day. Then my feet began to swell again and I went into congetive heart failure for the third time in my short life.

To prevent a fatal heart attack, I needed a third open-heart surgery but the doctors had told my parents I wouldn't survive another bout on the operating table. Since I was now an adult, the decision was up to me. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy. If I had the operation I could die. If I didn't, I could die. Either way, I was going to lose.

I was down, really down. We were at the hospital and I was strolling through the corridor when I spotted a Christian tract with a heart in the middle and it read: Fear not,neither let your heart be trouble (John 14:27).

I feel God put that message in my path to let me know I would be okay. Right away I felt peaceful and I decided to have the surgery. It was performed on September 16, 1991.

The morning of the operation, the anesthesiologist came and took me to the operating room. It's very unusual since the nurses usually do this chore.

"Take good care of her," my mom told him. "She's our most prized possession."

"She's going to be okay," he assured them.

The surgery was a success. And I'm happy to report I beat the odds. I'm still here - alive and kicking. They replaced the pig valve with one that's handmade, called a Homograft valve. The anesthesiologist held me hand in the ICU. I thanked him for taking care of me. He told me I had a wonderful family.

A few days later, he watched as I walked around the nurse's station and made sure I got back to my room safely. I never saw him again. When I went back for my six-week checkup, I went to the information desk so I could look him up and tell him I was doing fine.

They gave me a book with all the doctors names. He wasn't listed. A nurse helped me look him up on the computer, but they had no record of him either.

Was he an angel? I think so. I believe he was my healing angel.

-- Tara Franks, Silvis, Illinois --

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