When Christian Science first came into my life, over twenty-five years ago, it found me very disenchanted. Debts were mounting, and I was extremely frightened about the future in regard to my health.
For about seven years I had been going from doctor to doctor in the hope that one of them could help me. Finally, a well-known neurosurgeon had diagnosed the problem as a type of epilepsy. I believed then that I had inherited this from my dear uncle. At that time, I accepted the verdict and agreed to take the medication four times a day for the rest of my life. I was warned of the severe results if I failed to do so.
After a couple of months I had an unpleasant reaction to the medication. Hospitalization and an operation were next. I recall that when I came home from the hospital, I sat in a corner and wondered how I would be able to care for my family and lead a normal life. If I didn't take the medication, I was afraid the fainting, dizziness, and nervousness would take over. And yet the medication didn't seem to be the answer.
