She raised me as her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.
She loved me like no one else has loved me in my life.
He was by my side through the hardest days I have ever known.
She showed me more unconditional love and support than I ever imagined.
She taught me to live, to love, to be a lady, to be a mommy and to survive.
For 78 years, she had always been as healthy and stunted as a mule.
About a year ago he stood by me and fought tooth and nail to help me survive a bitter custody battle and win primary custody of my wonderful two-year-old son, who is his only great-grandchild, and the love of his life and my life.
After fighting with everything in her and seeing me win in court, she suddenly became deathly ill. Within days she lost the ability to walk, eat, dress or even get out of bed.
I quit my job to take care of her 24 hours a day. I spent every possible moment by her bedside, talking to her, trying to feed her, bathe her, brush her hair, change her clothes, and get her to take her medicine.
Finally, my uncle, who lives 100 miles from us, answered my calls for help. He forced her to see a specialist in her home state.
He spent three months in one of the best hospitals in the country with more than ten doctors trying to figure out what was wrong with him. She suffered a heart attack. She had to be on life support. She was forced to undergo several emergency surgeries to remove a tumor, draw a bucket of blood and a few others to save her life, they said.
My son was not allowed to visit her. She cried a lot. She begged me to bring it. She was constantly asking about me. I was told that she could not visit for several reasons, mainly because she was too emotional. I called her every day until her phone was taken away.
I thought I was going to die.
He gave me a list of things I needed to know, like where the security deposit keys were hidden, where his cash savings were kept in the house, where the bank accounts were and how much money he had and who was supposed to get what and when. she died.
I prayed every day, several times a day. I started a nightly ritual with my son, who learned to say “God bless Ger” when he barely said other more common words, like “dad.”
Somehow, some way, somewhere, God was listening. He gave me the greatest blessing and answered our prayers about a month ago. Doctors eventually identified Grannio’s disease as ‘vasculitis’ and began intensive treatment.
Two weeks ago she was transferred from the hospital to a rehab center, just 10 miles from our home. She can’t walk and she’s just beginning to regain the use of her arms, but she’s alive. Thanks god.
God granted us a miracle by bringing my Grannio back to life.
My faith is unfathomable.
