What happened to my uncle Fernando was incredible. He was gravely ill in the French Hospital in the city of Buenos Aires. The diagnosis was cancer in the bones, along with metastasis in other parts of his body, especially in the kidneys. His bones were almost reduced to powder. He only weighed forty-five kilograms.
His condition as so serious that the doctors decided against treating him with chemotherapy or radiotherapy. He was dying, taking painkillers to survive. His pain was so acute that he had to have sandbags in between his knees so they would not touch each other. Even the mere contact with the sheets hurt. He was constantly crying from pain, and nothing seemed to help.
My mother and my aunt asked me to go and see Carlos Annacondia, who was at that time leading a crusade in Mar del Plata. And so I did. I had planned to take my uncle’s pyjamas so Pastor Annacondia could pray for him, but in my rush to get there, I left them in my hotel room.
When I entered the stadium I saw the place filled with people and Carlos Annacondia walking among them praying for all. Every person he touched fell to the ground. It was the first time I had seen anything like it. I had a lot of faith in what God was going to do, so I ventured into the stadium. While Annacondia prayed for others, I tried to tell him what I had come for. But he immediately laid his hands on me, and I fell. I just stayed there, I don’t know for how long. I don’t think Annacondia heard my request, but God did. I later found out that my uncle started to get better that same night.
The next day, I went back to Buenos Aires, carrying the clothes I had not taken with me to the stadium. Nevertheless, my aunt, by faith, visited my uncle and gave him those garments. He had been in bed for three months now, unable to get up. But one evening we saw him walking around again. This was a wonderful sign. From then on, every night we weighed him, and every day he was one kilogram heavier. On the third or fourth day the doctor decided that he was now strong enough to receive chemotherapy.
When people receive chemotherapy, they usually lose weight. Not my uncle — he continued gaining kilograms. Every day he weighed one more kilogram. In the end he had regained the twenty-five kilograms he had lost.
Seeing his improvement, the doctors decided to perform new studies. They first examined his kidneys. The studies revealed that they were totally healed. Then they examined the bones. What had been almost powder was now completely solid. They finally told us we could leave and go back home to Junin.
A specialist in oncology from the French Hospital said, “This is a miracle of God. I’ve never seen such a wonder. This man was as good as dead; he was terminally ill.”
When our neighbours saw him coming back, they just couldn’t believe their eyes. People came out to the street just to see him walking by. They said, “This is the man that was almost dead, and now he is among us.” He was a dead man who had been resurrected. It was a miracle of God. Because of this healing, his wife, children, and other family members started going to church. Many of the people in our church today are there because of this miracle.
Some months ago, the doctor who was in charge of him in Buenos Aires came to our city. My uncle’s wife, a faithful believer, went to see her and asked her, “Do you remember my husband?”
“Of course,” she replied, “how could I forget the greatest miracle I’ve seen in my life!”
My aunt, who is very courageous, said, “We always pray to God thanking Him for this miracle, and now we are also going to be praying for you.”
After this experience, I clung even more to the Lord. I believe that when God blesses someone like this, the miracle extends to the whole family and the neighbourhood, and that’s what happened to us.
— By Roberto
(From the book Listen to Me, Satan! By Carlos Annacondia in 1998, pg 149-151)