The year was 1959 and my Dad was ill. He had been ill for weeks. Finally he knew he had to see a doctor.
He was a farmer, a loner. He didn’t trust city folk and doctors but he had to admit he needed help now.
When the doctor finished his examination he informed my Dad that he had prostrate cancer.
“What is that exactly?,” my Dad asked innocently. The doctor laughed and gave him a lesson from a chart on the wall.
It was hard seeing him suffer. He hated the medication and had to be forced to take it.
Among many other kinds of medication were steroids which turned him into a 34 B cup.
He took all of the joking about his chest good naturedly but one day informed us that he would not take his medicine anymore.
We begged and pleaded and warned and threatened but he took them all and dumped them in the trash can.
Then he informed us that he was going to spend a long time with God, asking a lot of questions.
My Dad did not know much about medical terms and such like, but he did know Jesus. So we tipped around and peeked in on him occasionally while he was on his knees in prayer.
After a few days Dad came off his Fast with a glow about him and renewed vigor. He told us that God told him he could eat but not what we were used to cooking!
Dad began to steam all of his veggies. He ate fruit and drank juice.
The only sweets he ate were the Blackberry Cobbler he wanted me to fix for him every other month or so. The doctor heard about his diet and warned us to prepare for the worst. He predicted that Dad would be dead in a few months.
But Dad continued to live. He was very thin but he continued to live. We use to jokingly pick him up to see how little he weighed at holidays and special family days. He sat at the table with us but he did not eat what we ate.
My Dad lived nearly 40 years past his diagnosis. He outlived the doctor who told him he was going to die by nearly 20 years!
Dad's life was a testament to a good diet, obedience, faith, and trust in GOD.