Biography
English
Carola Veldhuizen.
I was born and raised in Renswoude. A small village in the middle of the Netherlands.
I grew up in a loving Christian family. We went to church every week, I went to the church club and a Christian primary school. I can't quite remember the first real moment when I realized that I really believed in God, but I'm sure that played a part from a young age. In any case, it has ensured that I stood my ground in all the medical misery I went through.
Years of physiotherapy
When I was born I suffered from a lack of oxygen. Because of this, my left leg was very turned inwards and I started physiotherapy from a young age.
When I was seven I got a parvo virus. It wasn't juvenile rheumatism, nor was it glandular fever, but I did suffer from fatigue, my joints and a lot of muscle pain. Physiotherapy continued and my parents and I went to the hospital several times to find out what was wrong with me.
When I was nine I got a stomachache. Because I was bullied at my primary school, the GP didn't really take it seriously at first. She thought I was having a stomachache or imagining because of the bullying. Even my parents couldn't convince her that something might really be wrong. My mother took me to another doctor. He knew how afraid I was of blood tests and said, "Take blood tomorrow." I accepted it without resisting. The next morning everything went very fast. Not long after the blood test, I had emergency surgery for severe appendicitis. My peritoneum had also become inflamed and I ended up in the hospital for 6 days before I could move properly again. Only years later it turned out that the abdominal pain had started with an inflamed right ovary. This one lies against the appendix and has set everything on fire.
“That short moment after your heart stops,
your senses still register everything."
After that surgery my body calmed down a bit and my period started. It was very irregular. Logically, they immediately gave me birth control pills to get it under controle. But it's designed for young adults, not 10-year-old girls. As a result, my pituitary gland went completely out of whack. Too many hormones or too little were produced. Unfortunately we discovered that much too late.
When I was 10, my knee started to hurt more and more. My kneecaps were too high and too loose, so my meniscus had room to get in between them and I couldn't bend or straighten my leg anymore. My family was always trying to get my leg loose again. My father pulled hard on my leg and my mother or brother held me back on the chair so that I wouldn't be pulled off the chair. In retrospect super sinister but it was the only thing that helped.
Eventually my meniscus between my knee joint was shattered and I had surgery to have all the pieces removed. But the pain persisted because my kneecap was too high and not tracking properly.
During the surgery that followed, I went into cardiac arrest. An experience that gave me nightmares for years to come. That short moment after your heart stops, your senses still register everything. For example, I remember that the anesthesiologist shone a light in my eyes and called for my father to get out of the room. The man had beautiful blue eyes, I remember. But also the smell of the operating room, I still remember well, and the eerie sound of the heart rate monitor beeping because my heart wasn't working.
They thought I was allergic to the anaesthetic. But I discovered in 2019 the anesthesiologist accidentally got into my blood vessel with the injection, causing my heart to stop.
After a long resuscitation they put me under general anesthesia and waited until I was stable before they did surgery on me. The operation also failed and to make matters worse I started to suffer from cartilage wear and tear. Even after the operation I could not walk without crutches and I used a lot of painkillers.
Stomach bleed
Two days before my twentieth birthday, all the painkillers gave me a stomach bleed. This was an intense experience. At that time, I did an internship an hour from home and rented a bedroom from a single mother. They were on winter sports so I was alone. I just kept throwing up. At one point I even threw up stools. I knew it was wrong. My father came to pick me up and took me to the doctor. He advised me to go home. If I came to the hospital, I would at least be close to home on my birthday.
I came to the hospital severely dehydrated and with a very high fever. After hours in the emergency room I was allowed to go to a room. I heard the sisters say in the hallway, "Keep an eye on her, but she won't make it."
That was the moment, I thought: Now I am done with it. I've said to God, "Either I'll get well or I'll die tonight. Nothing in between. No more whining and fussing!” I had been ailing then for 13 years. But my rebellion was short-lived. my equipment sounded the alarm because I was so restless. A nurse came up to me and said to me, "Calm down girl, everything will be fine." As she said that, she bent over and a small cross necklace fell out of her uniform. I thought, "That's a quick answer, then it's good." I fell asleep and woke up again the next morning.
I had not become “better”, on the contrary. Because my stomach stopped functioning properly afterwards, digestion took three to four times as long, vitamins and minerals were no longer absorbed. My health deteriorated rapidly from then on.
Your muscles, nerves and organs need vitamins and minerals to stay healthy. Because they no longer came in, my body slowly stopped. My pituitary gland made too much cortisol, a stress hormone. As a result, I was alert all day long and all senses were on alert. That was very tiring.
"Celebrate this birthday grandly,
it may be your last."
At a certain point in the Netherlands the doctors had no idea what to do with me. The difficult thing was that they all knew it wasn’t going well, but no one wanted to work integrally. Everyone stayed on their own island. And the medicines prescribed by one doctor, for example, did not go together with the medicines of another doctor, which only made me sicker from side effects and counter-reactions.
In the end I went to a Belgian doctor. This doctor called a whole team of specialists together and within a few weeks I suddenly had 9 different diagnoses. Unfortunately, some diseases were already so advanced that they could no longer be treated at the same time. What one medicines was good for, was extra burdensome for another. My body continued to deteriorate. I ended up in a wheelchair and spent 18 hours a day in bed. I had inflammations all over my body, I went through menopause, my nerves in my feet died, I had developed a malignant anemia and got heart attack-like complaints because the blood vessels around my heart were cramping.
Just before my 25th birthday, the doctor said to me: Celebrate this birthday big because it could be your last. We did. A big party. Room rented. We had family and friends come and I really enjoyed it to the fullest. At the end of the same year (2012) I noticed that my body didn't want to anymore. At the beginning of 2012, I had interpreted for 2 deaf women on a Christian women's day. At the time I had to stop my college education -Interpreter Dutch Sign Language- because of my illnesses, but I was still able to do it. I was also asked for the days on January 18 and 19, 2013. I had said yes then. But I didn't know I was going to get this sick in the meantime. But it didn’t feel good to say now: 'I don't feel well', because I haven't been feeling well for 18 years and I always pushed myself to the limit. The doctor had predicted that if I did it, I would fall asleep afterwards and not wake up. In talked about it with my parents, I chose to do it anyway. Six days or six weeks didn't matter to me anymore. I was very sick. Everything in my stomach was inflamed. I got tired of fighting after 18 years.
In the week that followed, I said goodbye to friends and discussed the service with the pastor and the undertaker.
And then it was January 18 2013...
Already halfway through the day I noticed that something special was going on. Normally my arms wouldn't work anymore. But I still felt pretty good. I had taken extra morphine and prednisone so I thought it was because of that. During this Christian women's day there was a man from a town next door, who knew from God that he had to pray for someone during this day. He saw me sitting there and thought: 'I will pray with her'. He asked me if he could do that. I thought: 'Fine, if that's what you want'. I thought he was going to pray for peace, the removal of the pain and for the last days. But he wanted to pray for healing. The healing only God could give. I knew it was possible, but I didn't know about it. In the church I went to, it was also a topic that wasn't discussed much. I never expected it to be for me either. As a result, I was naive and thought: 'If it doesn't help, it won't hurt'.
He went to pray. He talked about things we hadn't discussed at all. That was special. After a while he said "Amen" and asked me to get up from my wheelchair. I got up and had no pain. I always had the feeling that I was standing on hedgehogs with my bare feet. That feeling was gone. It started to tingle warmly in my feet and it slowly went up. I have had a warm burning sensation in my stomach for a long time. Then it went up even more and at some point the feeling left my body. I noticed that the swellings in my belly were gone. I was really stamping on the ground. It didn't make sense, it didn't hurt. I asked if someone wanted to push me over. Normally a joint would dislocate or I would fall. But now my muscles were strong enough to hold myself up. I felt my body strengthen and my energy came back.
"Praying is the best medicine!"
The following Monday I went to the doctor and made an appointment with all the other doctors. I knew I was better and I really didn't need that confirmation at all. But it is useful if it is in your file. Mainly because they thought I was going to die. I wanted to show them that miracles still exist. It was really amazing to see that many doctors reacted quite positively and some even said: 'Praying is the best medicine' or 'There is indeed more between heaven and earth.' That is often quite something for a scientist!
Over the years, my healing was able to help people find Jesus. There are sometimes people who say they understand why I believe in God. But I already believed, even when I was sick. My faith has been strengthened and I have developed a much deeper relationship with God.
Time of Grace.
After my healing I started studying theology. Because I believe, every day after my healing is a day of pure grace of God. My life is a time of grace. I have received a clear calling from God to tell people about His miracles and power. And I kept getting texts like Psalm 118:17: ‘I will not die but live and I will tell of the works of the Lord.’
And that's exactly what I do.
My world was turned upside down. It took me almost 5 years to discover who I am without illness. That is sometimes underestimated. During my illness I could not participate in many things and I had to adapt. On January 18, 2013, I recovered from one moment to the next and was alive and well. Then suddenly I had to lead a normal life. But what is a normal life?
How do you play a game where you don't know the rules because the rules of the game have suddenly changed? That's quite a puzzle. And besides the love of God, the need for aftercare after healing is a topic I speak and teach about in churches.
1 year before healing
1 year after being healed
6 months before healing
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