Both my parents were Christian Scientists -- it's what pretty much made me denouce all faith in the first place, until my eyes were opened.
My parents both believed that injuries and illness were false, and usually the result of your own doing somehow. i.e, you just bumped your head so you must be thinking bad thoughts. They believed that if you prayed, had faith in God, or even had the church or a practioner pray for you, you could be healed of all things.
My mother died of pancreatic cancer in our home on March 23rd, 1993. She refused
all forms of medical treatment. For 9 months she cried and screamed at night, begged us to come scratch her back, and eventually had to be carried to and from the bathroom. She weighed 87 pounds and was completely yellow, and fell into a coma for a few days before she died. She swore until the end she would be healed.
My dad came home from work one day in July of 1994 and said he didn't "feel good". He locked himself in the bedroom with his bible, and we found him the next day dead. He died of a heart-attack, and never picked up the phone to dial 911.
I have 3 older sisters -- none of them are religious, and were not even before my parents died. I have tried introducing one of my sisters to Christianity, and because of the way we grew up, it's pretty much just
I grew up with no shots, dentist visits, aspirin, tylenol, health classes in school, and even acne cream. I had to debate about chapstick.
This being said, I know I broke my foot by dropping a large rock on it when I was about 6 years old. My nephew and I were having a contest to see if we could lift all the big rocks in the flower garden alongside the house. I vividly remember dropping the rock on my foot -- it was the most painful thing I've ever experienced. (aside from trying to give "natural" birth while being induced with pitocin) It was completely useless, swollen, black and blue, and scared the crap out of me just by looking at it. Instead of running to call 911 or take me to the hospital, my mother ran to the phone to call the practioner. I remember speaking with the practitioner and being told my foot was not really broken, and that it was error creeping into my mind to tell me that it was. The next morning, it didn't hurt -- my sister said within a week it was healed. But then again, I was 6 -- it's the way I remember it.
I'm extremely skeptical of the "OMG look I can walk!" and "I've been cured!" stuff you see on TV -- it looks a little hokey, and in my opinion doctors would be out of business if this were true. Test everything, and there's nothing wrong with being skeptical until you're presented with the truth.
:shocked! Although shocking, I'm glad to hear it! Thanks so much for sharing this with us, because it's a true testimony to God's great power, as well as the power of prayer.