When I was just a small child, my family which included my parents and brother lived on a farm in Burton Kansas. My brother who was around the age of 11 or 12 came in from doing his chores and said he wasn't feeling very well ,that his stomach hurt. By the time my parents realized this was more than just an ordinary stomach ache, he was in agony. My father drove to town to get the only doctor that our small town had. In the meantime, my brother got worse until my mother began to fear for his life. I remember the doctor and my father lifting my brother onto the kitchen table and the doctor examing him and my brother moaning with such pain that I began to cry. My parents were told by the doctor ,my brother's appendix had ruptured and he feared that gangrene had set in and that there wasn't much hope for their son to live. My parents were advised to take him to Hutchinson, which was the nearest town to us to have a hospital. It was called The Sisters of Mercy. Everyone there expected my brother to die but my mother told me later that the Sisters spent hours praying in the chapel for GOD to save my brother life's. My brother lived and his case was written about in medical records because no one, not even the doctors who treated him, thought he would live. He was in the hospital for weeks but he lived by the love and grace of our Father in heaven.
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