I don’t know if anyone prayed. The doctor might of. I didn’t know him when I went in there, hysterical. I was SCREAMING, never mind the howling when my hand was scrubbed. But he knew me. He said he’s seen me around town and always wanted to meet me…but not like this!
He said that he and his wife contemplated leaving the little town and at one point they made a list. Reasons to stay, reasons to leave. I was on the list! I was local color, see? I was the town weirdo, unbeknownst to me. But he made it really clear, that of all the people this could happen to, I was the last person he would want to see in his office with an injury like this. He told me he was going to do everything he could to save my hand, because if I lost it, it would be his fault. He had a chance to save the hand of this weird person in the town?
I was a lot more notorious then I knew. Anyway, he may have prayed. He probably did pray.
Other than that, my mother did not know it happened. She was living in a city nearby. I’d gone to this rural area for the high(er) pay.
After this happened, I lied to the doctor and said I was getting picked up. In reality, I was going to drive this big, oversized route truck home, stick shift, with one hand… I drove it with my hand burned and throbbing, didn’t I? I could not feel it when I left the doc.
So I drove the truck home, he saw it go by his office window when I left. He was mad, but what could he do?
I had a man I was dating at the time, pick up the pain med and antibiotics he prescribed, bring them out to me after he got off work. I live on the outskirts of a small town, in a smaller town, like less than 100 people. So he picked up the meds, brought me some dinner and then he left…I was falling asleep due to pills and trauma and all the screaming And while I usually got up at 4 am for work, I was going to get up at 3 am, since I knew I would be slow with one hand.
That was it, I went to sleep. I was working because I needed to know if I could keep my job with one hand. Whether it was gone, or maimed. I intended to try to keep working so of course I went out there to work, to reassure my (delusional) self, all was okay.
So that was that. I rolled to the doctor about 3 am, hot and sweaty (in AZ) and walked in the office.
“You went to work?” he asked. He was incredulous. I didn’t care. I had bills to pay. Of course I went to work…
So then he unwrapped my hand and it was clear. No broken skin, just absolutly nothing.
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I wracked my brain last night, trying to remember where I read this, in regard to miracles. I can't remember but the writer stated that miracles only go so far when it comes to bringing people to God. This is primarily due to two factors....
First, only a few people witness the miracle (relatively speaking).
Second, when people are told of a miracle, they don't believe it.
I wrote this to address the OP question. I think miracles do still happen, you just don't necessarily hear about them.
