Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank, Part 11

Episode 11: An Attack Upon A Tumour.
An infected cyst on the top of Peter's head saw him in the local medical centre preparing for a local anaesthetic to have the pesky lump removed. His symptoms were few: dizziness, blurry vision and only a little pain. A nurse who tactlessly quipped that he was going bald shaved a small saucer-sized patch of hair from the top of his head. A surgical operation was commenced, but very soon interrupted as the physician rushed away to an adjacent room for a few moments. He reappeared with another physician who anxiously confirmed his observations. With a feigned calmness, the first physician advised the supine Peter that the cyst appeared to be, in fact, a tumour with strands extending into the fissures of the skull. However the operation had already commenced -- he would have to continue, and Peter would be expected to "bite the bullet", while the physicians crowded in to finish the procedure. Ideally, he flatly informed his patient, the scraping and chiselling should be done under a General Anaesthetic. However it was too late for that and a second injection was given to the site to numb any pain. Pain it did numb, but Peter was still very much aware of the pricking, pushing, probing, prodding and patching. After what seemed eons, he was taken home to await a biopsy report on the pea-sized squid-like object that the surgeon had proudly showed him before he left the surgery.
No more than two days had passed before he was urgently summoned for admission to a country hospital for the removal of any further traces of this pervasive demon. The report of the biopsy had added a certain compulsion to respond to the appearance of a cluster of further growths in the same site, and further surgery was planned without delay. An overnight stay in hospital in preparation for surgery the next day, saw the rapid growth of a number of additional surprises around his neck. This time a General Anaesthetic gave Peter no recall of the surgery, although the row of suture sites around his neck and the "whopping" turban-like bandage around his head left no doubt that at least something dramatic had happened during his nap that day. It appeared that the radical surgery was successful as his week-long stay in hospital was not accompanied by any more growth surprises.
However, less than a week later, two more "lumps" appeared. This time, he was subjected to a battery of tests that even a guinea pig would find a chore, and the prognosis he received was that further surgery would be futile because the growths were too rapid and widespread. Peter was told, bluntly and coldly (in spite of the choking compassion in the voice of the tidings bearer), that he could expect maybe two more weeks at the most to "set his house in order" and prepare to "meet his maker".
Never the less, another operation was planned and Peter was to be escorted by a paramedic to his country of birth as soon as a flight with provision for a supine cot could be arranged. (The operation was to be there because it was anticipated that it would not be successful and it seemed only appropriate that he be with his family at the time.) A long drawn-out week intervened before Peter could travel, and until the day before travel when he was to spend the night at a City hospital for preparation for travel and sedation if necessary.
This attenuated week was one filled with the prayers of many on Peter's behalf. One of the most earnest petitioners was Mary, who had promised him her hand in a marriage, which it appeared, would no longer eventuate. She began the week praying that God would spare her beloved, reminding her Lord that he had brought them together in the first place, and He surely wouldn't whisk this new friend away so soon! Towards the end of the week, however, this prayer had changed as she told the Lord that she was prepared to let Peter go if that was what God required of her.
Peter felt no anxiety about dying, excepting that he could foresee the pain it would cause those who loved him. He knew that God had spared him in the past and that he had done so for a purpose. Peter's only question to God was in regard to having fulfilled that purpose -- what had he done for his Lord? -- had he done it without even knowing it?
Peter prayed. He waited. Hundreds of supporters prayed. And waited.
The long week was pinnacled as Peter advised the surgeons at the City hospital that he believed he was cured and that neither the nurse escort to his homeland, nor the aircraft cot would be required. Knowing that a feeling of well-being often precedes the "very end", grave faces accepted his proclamation with sympathetic unbelief. However, Peter's assertions were soon confirmed when an examination revealed that, not only had the lumps disappeared, but there had appeared in their place what resembled the aftermath of skilful surgery and weeks of healing.
Peter did return home, unescorted, in a conventional aeroplane seat, and then weekly X-rays, blood tests, and physical examinations for the six months following, revealed no trace of the cancer.
With courting continuing by mail, the planned wedding took place the following year. And a CAT scan eight years later revealed still no trace of the gremlins involved in the strange incident, which brought Peter closer to both his God and his bride. Nevertheless, the lesson for Peter is not finished yet.


-- Lionel Hartley, Not Finished Yet -- Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."
As first appeared in FreEzine Magazine July 2000 ff