I am dedicating today’s testimony to Hammed Ajiboye my friend. He loved the LOUD IT series especially and was encouraged by it until God called him home a few days ago. Hammed, I wish you were here to read this and do all those great things you dreamed but I am assured you are FREE. You are with the Lord now. Rest on friend.
“My name is Kome.
This is my story.
I didn’t really think anything was wrong with me until 1993. I had just turned 10 and then I started falling seriously sick, and frequently so. It appeared as though I was sick every other week, like the crises were timed and took turns one after the other with increasing intensity. The pain was out of this world and my parents were helpless. Infact, my aunt took on nursing as a career inspired by my pain. After all, someone needed to be able to administer the varying doses of pain relievers from Analgin to different medications when the crisis kicked in at night. Just living with Sickle Cell Anaemia almost made me a drug addict. The pain had me reliant on drugs literally on the go.
The period was not easy on my family either, financially and otherwise. Every crisis brought with it trauma and fears. My mother (God bless her) proved the saying that “Mother is supreme.” She took me from hospital to hospital, church to church, crusade to crusade, and pastor to pastor. She simply refused to accept and live with that diagnosis. The only person we never visited was an herbalist.
Hmm, I also remember a lady that was popular back then, Elizabeth Kafaru. She was a Natural Medicine practitioner who specialized in herbal therapy for ailments; she was always on TV and in the papers. After listening to her, my mum suggested we try her therapy: drinking my early morning urine. It was gross but it was nothing compared to the pain and wailing sickle cell caused. I tried it but couldn’t continue after a while.
My journey of pain was such that I had a permanent hospital bed space at the hospital close to my family house at the time. When I say I had a permanent bed space I mean it. It almost felt like I was a retainer patient. They saved me that bed space because they knew I would come, even when they had patients in need of admission into the hospital, they kept that bed space free.
My secondary school was close to my house, just like the hospital. Sometimes the crisis would begin during school hours and I would be rushed straight to the hospital, after which they would send a message to my parents to say I’d been admitted into the hospital. My parents would then rush to the hospital to nurse me and all.
Anything other people consider normal could trigger a crisis. If I took a cold bath, a crisis was imminent; if the weather was too cold, or I was wet by the rain, you can be sure that I would arrive at the hospital. It got so bad and my life felt so different and irregular that I prayed to die. I had gone through the range of pain medications and I could see my family finances straining under the weight of my medical care. My parents tried to be strong but it was emotionally draining and I had 3 other siblings that they had to take care of as well. Just the mental thought of having to be extra careful so I didn’t come down with malaria or some random infection was enough to ensure that I barely had a childhood even for the few days I was out of the hospital. I missed so many school days as well.
One day, precisely on the 1st of June 2000, my father’s friend visited our home with a pastor. Of course, given that I was so sickly, I was always a prayer point. My health and healing was a prayer point. Sincerely I had lost faith at that point, I just wanted to die. After all, the story was that the average life expectancy was 21 or maybe 30 years. That day, the pastor prayed for me. I remember the sincerity in his prayers; I could hear the compassion in his voice and the vow he made to God concerning my case. After the prayers, miraculously, the crises were no longer as frequent.
Later on, I went to university in Benin; I was 18 years old at the time. Well, the crises were no longer frequent. And as I remembered the pastor’s prayers and the infrequent crises afterwards, I started confessing to myself that the sickle cell was gone. I wouldn’t particularly say I had a personal relationship with God at the time. But I was born into a Christian home and had seen the impact of that pastor’s prayer.
Thankfully, the crises were far and between, say once or twice a year and when I had a crisis, it never lasted a full day because I kept saying the only thing I knew in the Bible about healing, “By His stripes I am healed.” Afterwards I kept to that scripture whether I had a crisis or not, as often as it came to my head. I said it out and gradually believed it within myself that I was healed. Whenever I needed to write my genotype I wrote AA, but still tested SS all the while (sounds silly I know).
I came to know the Lord and started building a relationship with Him in 2008. Later, sometime in 2009, I became sick, which was the first time I had to go to the hospital in years. I was admitted and tested for everything and the doctor said the typhoid was that severe because I was sickle cell anaemic.
“Doctor,” I said, “my genotype is not SS, it is AA.”
“Miss, your genotype is SS; as unfortunate as that may sound that’s it, and you need to take your medications more seriously,” he said.
I insisted that it was AA, I knew I was simply arguing with the doctor from a point of faith. He later “understood” and said,
“I understand you are saying so by faith.”
“Sir,” I started, “faith and otherwise, I am AA. I barely have crises. I have long stopped taking all the medications. This one episode will not make me accept that I am not healed.”
Then I went to God in prayer. I said, “Father, I know you have healed me, I believe I and I feel it. I have experienced it in my health, but it’s about time we showed the world medical proof. Change this genotype result medically to AA and I will stand on the altar and testify about this. I was specific; I told God that I didn’t want AS or any S strain in my genotype. I prayed and left it there.
In May 2013, I woke up one day and decided to go for a genotype test, I did and the result came back AA. Although I had prayed for it, I didn’t believe it. I told the lab technologist in charge my story, he said he didn’t really believe these things, he asked for the test to be done again and it was same result, he said he was going to try it again and took another blood sample. I came back two days later for the result and it was AA still. It’s amazing that I had two test results showing that God changed my genotype from SS to AA.
Earlier this year, I just wanted to shame the devil again and remind him that he lost, I went back for a genotype test, AA it said.
This is my story. This is my song. This is my victory.
I consider my healing first an act of grace, then faith, then confession. It sounded foolish to confess that I was healed of sickle cell, but I had gotten a personal revelation that I was healed and acted on it. “Faith comes by hearing the word.” I’m living proof that the word works.
God gave me my life back. I’m as normal as normal can be, and I am having the time of my life. I will shout out His goodness on the mountain top.
Like Tye Tribbet sang, ‘He TURNED it and gave me beauty for ashes.’”
I want you to be encouraged. If you grab hold of the word and walk in faith, you will see God come through. Don’t give up on God please and be encouraged by these testimonies to expect God to move in your life as well.
God bless you.