At one time, I was possibly one of the handful of people who spoke fluent Spanish in my local church. Therefore, if we had an Hispanic visitor, a church volunteer would come find me so I could welcome these newcomers. In 2015, I had the opportunity to talk with visitors from Peru. As I walked in the visitor’s room I saw an entire family already speaking with another volunteer. They looked to be French Canadians. I thought someone had made a mistake, nevertheless I approached this new family and introduced myself. A very pretty lady extended her hand and said: “Hermana Denise, Mucho gusto de conocerte. ” (Sister Denise, I am pleased to meet you.) Then she proceed to give me her name and the names of the family members that were accompanying her. We exchanged a few more words in Spanish then proceeded to continue our conversation in french. She had been in Canada for several years and her husband is French Canadian. She told me she was a surgical nurse at Montfort Hospital. As a family they were already attending a Spanish speaking church, but her husband and two teenagers wanted to visit a French-Canadian church. We had an instant connection, and we spoke every time she came to church. After a few months they decided to go back to the Spanish-speaking church. We stayed in touch through Facebook and even went out for tea just to talk. In March 2020, after a routine mammogram came back positive for a tumor, I had to go for a CT-Scan at Montfort Hospital. By the time I came out of that screening room, I was a complete mess. With tears running down my face all I wanted to do was to get out of the hospital as fast as I could. Turning the corner of one hall to go down to the next one, my friend from Peru was standing right there in front of me. She was obliviously shocked to see me and said: “Hermana, what are you doing here? I never slowed down and just said: “I’m OK” and I just kept on walking. Back in my car, I realized that as a nurse she could easily find out the reason I was at the hospital. I really expected her to call me but being a very professional lady, that call never came. On March 27, during the first surgery to remove the tumor under my right breast, my surgeon also did a biopsy. This revealed that I had some problematic lymph nodes under my right arm which had to be removed during a second surgery a few weeks later. My oldest son drove me to the hospital, but by then we were in the Covid-19 crisis, and he had to leave me at the front door of the hospital. Going inside all by myself was emotionally very difficult but I was determined not to let the possibility of cancer spread in my body. The day following the surgery, I received a text from my Spanish speaking friend. She was asking me how I was doing. Not wanting to say more than I did the day I had met her in the hospital hallway, I told her I was doing well, and I wished her a nice day. Within minutes, another text came including a picture of operating room door #9, and it said: “Hermana, I was in room 9 yesterday morning at Montfort. I was one of the nurses assigned to you during your surgery.” Well, now my secret was out, she knew about my situation. I asked her if she had told my surgeon about knowing me. “No”, she replied. “It was best I kept quiet about knowing you, this way I could stay in the operating room, do my job to take care of you and pray for you.” Before the surgery, an orderly had pushed my wheelchair right to the door of operating room #9, but because of the Covid-19 protocol he was not allowed to go any further. I had to get out of the wheelchair and walked in that operating room on my own. I can honestly say that at that moment, I was very anxious and I felt quite alone. My surgeon’s assistant met me half-way and held my hand as I stepped on the little footstool and then laid on that cold operating table as instructed by the anesthetist. From the corner of my eye, I did noticed some medical staff all dressed in their yellow surgery gowns with plastic masks over their faces. I never even for one moment thought that my Hispanic friend was one of the team. After reading her text message I sat in my living room and cried. I cried because I realized that the Lord loves me so much that He made sure I was not “alone” in that cold and antiseptic operating room. He sent me an “angel” to pray and take care of me. Not only an angel but a Spanish speaking angel. The Lord is in the details and on that day, He made certain that all the necessary details were in place to bless me, care for me and give me peace. Amen!
“For He will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;”
Psalm 91:11 (NIV)
Denise
The names of the people in this BLOG are not mentioned to respect their privacy.
I have fully recovered and doing well.
