Gillian

2006 was a terrible year for me - my heart condition was so bad that I had five emergency admissions to hospital, and spent a total of thirteen weeks as an inpatient. At home it was a huge effort just to get out of bed, and cooking was impossible. I had no energy. Walking down the fourteen steps to leave my home took ten minutes and I needed two rests on the way. I now know that my family did not expect me to live until Christmas.

It felt as if my body was shutting down. Emotionally, I had shut down, as this was the only way I could cope – especially as crying made it hard to breathe. The only advice I seemed to be getting from doctors was to lose weight. I knew that my weight was an issue, but I did not seem to be able to have any impact on it no matter what diet I tried.

Prayer is a big part of my life and I belong to the Lydia Fellowship, which meets regularly to intercede for different issues, like praying over London. I also have a prayer partner, and one day she told me she felt that God had something specific to say to me. She knew I was obsessed with losing weight and getting back to health. She gave me these verses from Isaiah:

When a farmer ploughs for planting, does he plough continually?
Does he not plant wheat in its place, barley in its plot, and spelt in its field?
When he has levelled the surface, does he not sow caraway and scatter cumin?
Does he keep on breaking up and harrowing the soil?
His God instructs him and teaches him the right way.
Isaiah 28:24-26

She said, ‘I feel that God is saying by this scripture that each person is different and has different needs – each seed in this passage was sown according to how it would grow. You’re worried about your weight, but God knows what your need is, over and above the weight problem. He will deal with it in his own way, and that will be the best way for you.’

At the time, I was despairing. However, I knew that God was there with me and that I had to go through whatever was coming – there would be no shortcuts. ‘I know you can heal me instantly,’ I prayed, ‘but if you want me to go into hospital that’s fine too.’ He seems to have taken me at his word!

On September 10th I was taken to hospital by ambulance again – it was about the fifth time that year. On the heart ward the only advice I got, once again, was to lose weight, and that I should go on an 800 calorie diet to do so (normal daily intake is about 1500 – 2000 calories). No-one seemed to be hearing how desperate I was to lose weight or the fact that I already had lost 12 kilos. The nutritionist I saw later was appalled at the idea of an 800 calorie diet. A diagnosis was given of an atrial flutter and I was taken to theatre for a cardioversion, which shocks the heart into a normal rhythm.

Five days later, however, I was back. Strictly monitoring my diet had made no difference; in fact I was blowing up like a balloon. I felt so ill in the early hours of one morning that I had asked my neighbour to call an ambulance once again.

When I was admitted to A&E, one of the doctors who had performed the cardioversion was there.

‘What’s happened to you?’ he said, looking horrified. ‘Your belly has blown up in size.’

If he hadn’t looked so genuinely concerned, I think I would have burst into tears. I explained that this was not overeating – in fact I had been feeling too ill to eat much at all.

This doctor’s concern and care was the turning point. He promised to make me comfortable while I waited for a bed, and arranged to put me on medication to slow my heart down – it was beating at almost twice the normal rate. He explained that my poor heart function was stopping my body from excreting fluid, and this was adding to my weight, including fluid on the lungs – eating less was not the answer! I was given diuretics to get rid of the excess fluid. In the following three weeks, as I stayed in hospital, I lost 25 kilos.

Nothing the consultants could do was making my heart beat slower, however, so I had to wait for a bed to be available at the Heart Hospital (UCLH).

Although the staff on my ward in Chase Farm Hospital were wonderful, the weeks I spent there were a challenge. It was impossible to sleep with the constant noise and beeping of the monitoring machines; then of course as the diuretics did their work I needed to get to the loo but had to rely on the busy staff taking me by wheelchair. The food was not just bad; it was diabolical! I was trying to follow the nutritionist’s advice so I got stroppy about it and my daughter brought me food instead.

In all of it, though, I knew that Jesus was with me and that he knew how I was feeling. My friend’s words from the Bible had made sense, that God knew my needs over and above the weight problem; and it was also proving true that there would be no shortcuts in my healing. I committed myself to do whatever I felt he was telling me, like listening to the other patients’ difficulties and encouraging them. I didn’t mention God much; I just tried to be a channel for Jesus to others. When I couldn’t sleep, I’d pray for them, for the staff and the hospital.

There was one low moment on a Saturday morning when I was struggling to hold back the tears. One of the nurses was standing next to my bed, silently stroking my arm. Suddenly, I knew in my spirit that she was praying for me.

‘You’re a Christian, aren’t you?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she admitted, surprised.

I was due to finally get treatment at the Heart Hospital on the 23rd October. The night before, I had a dream that I was taken there by ambulance with the sirens on, racing through London. When I woke up the dream didn’t make sense – this was a planned transfer between hospitals, not an emergency. That morning I got into the ambulance and we set off. Ten minutes into the journey I experienced severe chest pains for the first time in my life. Immediately the staff gave me medication and oxygen to stabilize me, put the sirens on and raced me through London to the Heart Hospital. Thankfully, having already dreamt about this made it less alarming – God had prepared me for it and I knew he was with me.

That afternoon I was given a cardiac ablation, a procedure in which the patient remains conscious, but sedated with morphine (the first time that I’ve been high on drugs!). A catheter is inserted into a vein in the groin and guided into the heart, where it burns off the cells that cause the heart to beat too fast. I remember being told that the burn would last for 10, 20, or 30 seconds; it was uncomfortable, but I had a strong sense that Jesus was there too and that I was safe.

Even that night when I spoke to my daughter on the phone she said I sounded better; more lucid and clear. I made a good recovery and went home five days later.

I cannot tell you how much my life has changed. I still have some way to go with losing weight, but it is stable and lower than when I left hospital. I can go up and down stairs at speed. I can walk much further than I used to without needing to rest, and I go to the gym regularly for gentle exercise. I’ve got energy! Everyone tells me how well I look. I thank God for the surgeons, consultants, doctors and nurses who looked after me, and I look forward to enjoying this miracle of new life.

One doctor explained the ablation procedure as ‘having a tattoo on the inside of your heart.’ I’m not keen on tattoos, so I asked the Lord for an alternative description of what he had done. I felt him say that he had ‘circumcised my heart’ (Deuteronomy 30:6), and that what he had done for me he will do for many people in London: that by working through the difficulty and pain in people’s lives, he will bring about his healing and change their hearts.

In June this year Gillian was discharged from the cardiology clinic as she’s no longer considered at risk of a heart attack or stroke. She is now under the care of her GP who will be reducing her medication over the next 6 months.