Swami’s Walking Miracle

Rosa Raveneau met Sai Baba in 1969, and has been an ardent devotee ever since. In this article she writes about the health crisis that she survived with Baba’s grace and her steadfast devotion. It is inspiring to read how Rosa kept her sense of humor and strong spirit and held on to Baba during her recovery from brain surgery. 

On waking up, I realized I was in a space capsule. Why? Had I just come back from another planet? I think I was in Iraq in a bomb blast, and it hit my head. What happened? I just had my head sawed open by a surgeon and he and his team had saved my life. I was floating in space. Oh yes! I had just come back from a very peaceful place where this very attractive light was guiding my path. I realized something serious had happened to the physical body and I said, “I don’t want to go back. It is so peaceful here. I don’t want to live with a decrepit body in a chaotic world.” But suddenly, I was dressed in a beautiful long gown, beige and pink, and started turning like a spinning top, or a ballerina. The light and a strong wind were pushing me back into this world. At that point I realized my karma [action] was not yet finished. That was my mini-mystical encounter with death.

What a conundrum!

In the year 2001, I was diagnosed with hemolytic anemia. My hemoglobin was 7.5 while the normal range is 12. What caused this type of anemia? The hematologist told me that I had inherited it from European royalty. I laughed and said, “Very nice, they left me the blue blood but not the castles.” I was prescribed iron supplements and I also started eating iron rich foods.

In 2008, another hematologist found that in addition to the anemia, I had developed a more serious condition of too much iron in the blood [Hemochromatosis], which can affect the organs of the body. What a conundrum: too little iron, too much iron! The proposed treatment for this condition is weekly blood-letting (phlebotomies)—the equivalent of donating half a liter of blood on a weekly basis for a year or more! However, this process would aggravate my anemia. A form of chemotherapy that required hospitalization was proposed to address the anemia. I was reluctant and fearful to undergo such treatments.

Trip to India

I decided that first and foremost I would go and see Sathya Sai Baba, my guru. Arriving in Prasanthi Nilayam (abode of peace) to me is like coming home. The highlight of the trip was a darshan (seeing a holy being) where I was seated in the front row. As Sai Baba approached in his motorized wheelchair, coming directly to me, I was scared. It felt as if He was going to run me over. I felt a strong shakti (energy). I cried out loud, “Baba, Baba, Babaaaa!” I was amazed to see how young He looked, just like His picture as a young man on whom I had meditated for 30 years. My heart was beating so fast that it felt as if it had jumped out of my chest and bounced two or three times on the marble floor, with a final jump at Swami’s feet.

I was relieved to get padnamaskar (touching the feet in reverence) in such a dramatic fashion. Only Swami knows when and how to bless us. After darshan some Indian ladies, who had witnessed this interaction between Baba and me, came to touch me and share their reverence.

Back to the West

My companion and caregiver through all this has been my husband, Maurice. We arrived back in New York on Halloween. I underwent the four chemo treatments during November. As this type of anemia is aggravated by cold, my doctors advised me to avoid the New York winter. In December we went to our paradise on the north coast of Honduras to spend the winter. While I was still in New York, I told the doctors of acute pain in my neck and shoulders. They gave me a pain management treatment for osteoarthritis. I was getting disoriented, forgetful, weaker, and my dynamic personality was changing but they failed to recognize the neurological condition that was afflicting me.

Honduran diagnosis

In Honduras my memory went blank for a month. I started losing motor co-ordination and I began walking like a penguin. Because of the excruciating neck pain we consulted a doctor and in January I was taken in emergency to D’Antoni Hospital in La Ceiba, Honduras. A young internist, Dr. Eenry Melgar, identified the neurological problem. Two hours later MRI results showed a brain tumor the size of a lemon. Immediately I was placed in intensive care with anti-inflammatory drugs. Dr. Fernando Sierra, the neurosurgeon, was ready to perform surgery for this extremely critical condition—an invisible enemy that had taken over and was threatening my life.

The crucifixion: surgery

The diagnosis was unequivocal. Since our insurance was valid only in the United States, I was taken by air ambulance to Miami. The surgery took place at the Jackson Memorial Hospital on January 6. I was oblivious. Baba spared me the ordeal of making the most crucial medical decision of my life. Without an immediate operation I would have gone into a coma. Divine intervention made a timely operation possible. I am sure Baba choreographed the whole thing.

Alive again

When I came out of intensive care my first reaction was, “What happened? I did not authorize to have my skull cracked!” I was furious. I would never have allowed this drastic medical intervention to take place. Maurice and the doctors in Honduras had explained everything to me but my mind had not registered it. Apparently, then I was joking with the medical staff inviting them to go to India with me to learn ayurvedic (traditional Indian medicine) healing.

I thanked the doctors but I was not grateful to them because I blamed them for the way I looked—like a casualty from a war zone. I also felt that life had been unfair to me as I had just started enjoying my retirement when all this happened.

Recovery

The recovery process was very painful and I could barely sleep. Every three hours I would get injections in my stomach and arms, while my arms and fingers were poked for blood samples. I was under intense medication, and I wanted my brain to return to normal. It was frightening to regain consciousness and realize that I could not talk or walk. I was scared that I would have a useless body for the rest of my life. At times like these I remembered the teachings: “You are not the body; you are not the emotions; you are not the intellect; you are something Divine; you are something Supreme.”

Physical rehabilitation

It had never occurred to me that walking was a function of the brain. Nine days after surgery, I began rehabilitation. Was I now a paraplegic with little hope for recovery? What was most painful was seeing so many young people incapacitated by automobile and motorcycle accidents. Particularly impactful was a beautiful Cuban-American woman who could only communicate by moving her eyes. The majority of these patients were in pain with full body braces like Christopher Reeves, the superman star.

My panic was such that when they brought me a wheelchair, I said to the nurse, “Take it away, I don’t want to see a wheelchair in my room. I am going to walk again.” I was shaky and unstable as my legs were weak and muscles flabby. To help me stand up, they sent a strong and gentle Iraq war veteran who encouraged me to move my legs and march like a soldier.

I began my daily four-hour rehabilitation sessions with the enthusiasm of a marathon runner. There were all kinds of incredible gadgets, but the therapists helped me the most. There were nurses from at least 30 countries and it seemed that the whole world helped me to survive this crisis. My body ached all over, but I pushed myself. The therapist would say, “Relax, relax.” I would respond, “How can I relax if I cannot walk? Push me to work harder because I have to walk!”

Since my 20s I had been doing yoga, modern dance, Middle Eastern dance, and swimming, and that helped me a lot in my rehabilitation. The physical therapist was amazed at my progress as every day I could do a bit more. She told me that my body was banking on all the years I had been a health fiend. After 10 days of intense rehab I could walk, but not independently; I did not have balance yet. My strategy was to not to use a walker or a cane. I would only hold on to another human being.

Swami’s divine play

During this ordeal my relationship with Sai was like a roller coaster ride. To appease myself, I did pranayama (breathing exercises), I repeated the Gayatri mantra (sacred prayer), and I called on Baba constantly. My talismans included Shiva Lingam earrings and a locket, both materialized by Swami. The locket has the image of Sai Baba on one side and Shirdi Baba on the other side. Most people noticed it, and the typical question was, “Is that your boyfriend?” My response would be, “He is my spiritual teacher.” Sometimes I would go into a more lengthy explanation.

In the hospital room, God lives in India, a DVD of a 2006 Guru Poornima (a day to honor the guru) performance in which I had the honor to participate, and of course, bhajans, were played non-stop—this was my altar. Everyone who entered my room told me it was the most peaceful place on the floor.

Sometimes I felt that Swami had abandoned me, although I felt His presence in some subtle way. I had a VIP suite and a documentary about India was playing when I entered the room. A Sai devotee sent me a package with lingam (holy) water and vibhuti (holy ash), which I consumed really fast.

In the past Baba had blessed me with dreams, vibhuti, and amrit (divine nectar). Now, somewhere between my waking and sleeping state, I saw Baba in his wheelchair giving instructions to four Hindu priests performing a puja (ritual worship). I could see the flames, the flowers, rice, and the abhishekam (ritual bathing of deity), this reminding me of the twelve-day Ati Rudra Maha Yajnam (sacred ritual) of 2006—of which I had not missed a minute. On his right side there were four angels. Baba was instructing them to help me recover.

Devastating

I was still under heavy anti-inflammatory and anti-seizure medications. The side effects of these medications played havoc with my emotions. The tumor was removed and the neurosurgeon told us that it was 99% benign and that he had removed it completely. After we were discharged from rehab, Maurice insisted on getting a final appointment with the hospital’s Director of Neurosurgery. He saw the results and told us that the tumor was malignant and I must follow it up with chemotherapy and radiation—basically he was giving me a death sentence. My emotions at this point were like a turbulent hurricane—impossible to describe.

We met with the Director of Oncology, who explained the treatment I must undertake. He actually instilled fear in me by saying that if I did not take this treatment, the tumor could re-appear and I would have to undergo another surgery. I said, “I’d rather die than have my skull cracked open again.” As I was practicing deep breathing to remain composed, it annoyed him and he said, “Young lady, you are going to hyperventilate and drop dead on my floor!” He wanted the treatment to start immediately and continue for six weeks. “No way!” I said. “If I’m to undergo these treatments, I’ll do it in New York where we have a nice home and all my toys. It seems I’m not only a patient, but clearly a client!” He replied, “It is your pleasure!”

Back to Honduras

A crucial decision had to be made. My body, my brain and my emotions were depleted. My caregiver, my husband, was exhausted. New York was in the midst of winter, not good for my anemia. We decided to postpone any further treatments, and return to our paradise in Honduras for rest and recuperation.

My sister, Leslie, had flown with us to Honduras. She is a Montessori teacher and is very patient by nature, providing invaluable companionship and puttting up with my emotional turmoil. Anxiety is a severe side effect of the anti-inflammatory medication. I took one anti-anxiety pill and I hated the way it made me feel. I tried to control these emotions through meditation, relaxation exercises, visualizations—all the tools I had experimented with in earlier years.

As soon as we arrived in Honduras, I visited my doctors who had initially diagnosed the brain tumor. They reassured me that I did not need chemotherapy, but advised me to follow up with radiation as a precaution. I was comforted by their human warmth. I wanted to embrace them and tell them how grateful I was.

I was exercising regularly. Walking on the sand by the sea at sunrise helped me to regain my balance and walk on my own. Early morning the sky is like the mandir (temple) in Prasanthi Nilayam, light blue with pink and clear light. It was awesome! This made me stronger day-by-day. Previously I always needed company as I still feared that I could fall. It is so wonderful to regain confidence and walk again. Toward the end, I walked one kilometer every morning.

I am so grateful to mother earth, family and friends and my dear Sai brothers and sisters who included me in the prayer network. You see, prayers work! Every day of my life now, I thank Baba. I consider myself his walking miracle.

Beams of photons

In New York, to my relief, the neuro-oncologist told me that chemotherapy was not necessary, and that it would have been counterproductive to start radiation immediately after surgery. Finally I had become part of the decision process in my treatment. Radiation is challenging. It sends photons to the tumor area to make sure no malignant cells survive. Maurice calls it a pre-emptive strike. It is war, with collateral damage—innocent cells will also perish. The alternative is the ‘wait and see’ approach, taking periodic MRI’s, perhaps with complementary new-age modalities.

Already I have a fragile short-term memory and further intervention concerns me. I forget things like putting out the candle after meditation, turning off the stove after cooking, going to the market without my wallet. Whenever I go crazy looking for something I repeat, “Om Gam Ganapataye Namah,” and incredibly, Ganesh (Hindu deity) removes obstacles and I find things. I need Divine intervention, even in the smallest details.

Having been through this crucifixion, one thing for sure, I do not fear death. I fear losing my mental capacity, becoming a burden on others, and lacking quality of life. After second and third opinion consultations, the top oncologist at both Weill-Cornell and Columbia Presbyterian have re-assured me that after radiation the tumor will not come back and that I’m good “for the next forty years.” I bite the bullet and accept treatment.

While under radiation, I mistrusted the competence of the technicians, I feared the kinks in the machine and had other phobias. So I called on Baba. I visualized the beautiful sunrise in the Caribbean. I placed Baba’s image in the hearts of the technicians, nurses, and doctors that were working on me knowing it will soon be over and done. Guess what! Just to re-assure me, Baba sent a new technician who is a Shirdi Sai Baba devotee. When I showed up for my MRI, conversation with the receptionist revealed that her parents have a Sai Baba center in Boston. These incidents fill me with courage.

Live in the present

We have been rehearsing a new song, Gratitude, with the Bailey sisters [the composers of God Lives in India]. It tells Baba exactly what I am feeling with all my heart. In an interview, Baba said to me, “Live in the present, live in the present, live in the present!” Even after an encounter with death, the monkey mind still continues with its antics. For this “walking miracle,” Baba’s easiest teaching is still his most profound: “Start the day with love, spend the day with love, fill the day with love, end the day with love. That is the way to God.”

Om Sai Ram!

~Rosa Celeste Raveneau, NY