Miraculous recovery-(SWC)

Hey guys! I came across this contest and decided to share my story with everyone. Picking the story to share was not an easy task because everyday of my life is a miracle but then I knew I had to share this one.
This is my story..

I woke up one morning with a swollen forearm and it was really painful. I and my siblings had gone on vacation at my grandparents. I went to my grandma to complain and she applied an ointment and I went about my daily activity.
Days went by and the swelling increased and spread turning into an open wound. I was in pain and as a young girl at that time there was really nothing much I could do about it but expect a miracle... we had thought it was a minor infection. She finally took me to the hospital by now,it had eaten deep into my flesh and I could almost see my bone. On getting, we saw a doctor who after inspecting the injury said there was nothing they could do about it, we should have come earlier and that they had to amputate. I was in shock.. I never expected my life to take this turn. Everything was happening so fast and tears began to flow freely.
My grandma told the doctor she needed permission from my parents before they carried on with the amputation and so, we headed home. My dad on getting the news was totally against it. He said he believed something could be done about it and the next morning I was on my way back to Lagos where we believed we could get a better treatment for me.
The next day, we went to different hospitals and they refused to attend to me... giving same excuse as if they had planned among themselves to. They said there was nothing they could do. The injury had gone too deep, they also recommended amputation but thank God for my dad who kept refusing.
While this was going on, we never stopped praying and hoping for a miracle. Although sometimes I asked myself why this had to happen to me, If only I had stayed back in Lagos and not gone on that vacation I would be perfectly fine. There were so many nights I cried myself to sleep...what would happen to my dream of becoming a doctor? I had to stop school for sometime and focus on recovering but how was I supposed to when the hospitals keep rejecting me.
There was this catholic hospital..Ancilia hospital (I will forever remember them). They were the only ones who accepted to treat me after all others refused to. I was happy.. a step closer to recovery.
Treatment started..injury was cleaned and dressed. It hurt alot because I was not under anesthesia. After some weeks, I was able to resume school. Each night,I saw my dad pray for me.. I also prayed hard.. I knew the Lord loved me too much and would come to my rescue. I went for dressing every two days. I usually stopped by the hospital after school those days.
Sometimes,it was like we went one step forward and two steps backwards because just when we thought I was on my way to full recovery,they would discover that I had stopped responding to treatment again.
I remember those days when I could not participate in sports..I really loved playing football then and running. I would just sit and watch my friends play because any impact on the hand made it bleed uncontrollably. There was this day I was playing with my sis, I had just returned from the hospital.. the nurses had just dressed the wound. We were throwing things at each other.. she threw something at me and I knew it was going to hit my face so I raised my hand in an attempt to stop it from making an impact on my face and the next thing we saw was the bandage soaked with blood. I had to return to the hospital that day.
This went on for close to a year. I was in and out of the hospital and became familiar with the doctors and nurses. I grew tire of taking drugs..I hated them but I had no choice.
On one of my visits to see the doctor, he told me I had a dead bone in my hand(well..I still don't understand what he meant by that) but I said to myself, it can't be me... I do not have a dead bone in me. When I got home that day, I cried and cried but later pulled myself together and prayed to God to make me whole again.
Weeks later, the nurses told me I didn't have to come in for dressing anymore. I was healing and the worse part was over. Trust me, that was the best news I had received in a long time. I thanked the Lord for it because I knew He heard my prayers and had saved my forearm from being amputated.
Gradually, the wound healed,and the scar is leaving gradually till date. It's been years it happened and there was a time I was ashamed of my scar. I even got tired of people asking me what happened to me.. it was like reliving the whole thing again. I started putting on long sleeves everywhere I went,short sleeve was a no no. But then I realized that I was wrong. I mean this is my victory scar.. I should be proud and not ashamed of it. God saved me from a worse fate. I mean, if I am ashamed of a scar then how would I manage with a missing forearm?

This hand is now the strongest of the two.. I lift heavy things with ease. People often fear for me and say is that not too heavy for you?... Lol.
Thinking about the series of events that took place, I just know that God really wanted to save me,I mean if my dad had lost faith and allowed them carry out the amputation..if the hospital had also refused to treat me, I would not be able to become the doctor I've always wanted to be. How would I carry out surgeries?
I shared this story to inspire people not to loose faith.. it might look like there's no hope, help is not coming from anywhere, you might feel alone but hold onand keep believing in God. Miracles exit and they hapoeb everyday. If I'm to guve details of all the events that have happened in my life which I knew could not have happened ordinary except God was involved, I won't stop writing for days or weeks.
Waking up each day feeling perfectly fine is a miracle of its own. I keep thanking God for the miracle and for giving me a wonderful dad.
Thanks @jerrybanfield and @gmichelbkk for the opportunity to share this.