I am the third child of my parents and have always wondered why I was the only person - out of the four children - who had sickle cell anemia.

I must say it has never been easy for me growing up as a child with this sickness, which almost shattered my dreams.

Many times, I asked myself what I had done wrong to deserve such unbearable pains; I even blamed it on God for allowing me to go through such experience. “Why me?” I would quiz.

As a child, there was not a single day that I missed Sunday School Service because I participated in all church activities to the extent that I even offered myself to play an instrument at church.

My parents are God-fearing; my father is a church leader [Elder] and he would not want to see his son in the house whiles Sunday School Service is in progress.

I was almost always chosen to represent the children's service to preach the word of God during Children's Week Celebration. I never had it easy doing that but my father helped by taking me through the scriptures, giving me the Bible verses suitable for the themes, and teaching me how to preach the messages.

I never missed out on church camping, even when I don't feel like going. The question then again is, ‘Why me?’ Growing up, I spent almost part of my life in sorrow. At least twice every month, I was admitted to the hospital for medical treatment. I think I'm the only child amongst my siblings who really fell sick most frequently.

I remember travelling with my parents from town to town, village to village in search of herbal medicine to subdue the sickness. Although, all those herbal medications I experimented with, did their part, they could not help alleviate my malady.

I was always seen - twice a month either at the hospital or on my sick bed in the house - for weeks without moving around or even having to see the beautiful morning sunshine. I hardly had a good bath then. My mother used to carry me on her back whenever I had to attend to ease myself or have a feel of the sunlight.

There used to be times my church members visited me because they never set eyes on me for weeks. It was same for my classmates. I wasn’t truant but the sickness gave me that status.

At a point, my frequent hospitalisation kept me out of school for almost a full term.

The pains were unbearable that I cried loudly, roll over, and gave my parents sleepless nights. My mother, upon seeing me in that unpleasant situation would say, "Owuraku, Nyame nti, woho b3t)’w wate, mennsu", which translates as "Owuraku [Wednesday born], do not cry, with God, you will be healed."

How do you feel about these words? For me, I found so much comfort in them and hoped that I would surely get better.

When I was in Junior High School Form 3, and about writing my mock exams, this same sickness [sickle cell anemia] just popped up and almost prevented me from participating in the examination.

It was a decision for me to either write the exams in pain or not write at all. For me, I decided not to write the mock exams because I saw it as an exams to test us before the main examination - the BECE.

I was convinced by my parents to write the exams, even if they had to hire a vehicle to take me to, and back from school for my papers. I endured the pain and got through with all my mock examinations.

This same problem happened during my final year in Senior High School, a week before school reopening and a few months to writing mock exams - well, it was pretty funny and interesting!

It was so serious that I had to be admitted to the hospital. I was hoping my stay at the hospital will not exceed more than 3 days, but days became weeks. This time, I had a swollen face with my two eyes almost closed, preventing me from seeing things clearly.

Weeks passed and I got better, anticipating to return to school quickly because I knew I was in my final year and did not want to miss the mock exams that time.

I recall the doctors and nurses taking me through eye testing due to my swollen face. I passed all the tests. Weeks later, I was discharged and given doctors' report to submit to my school management to prove I was indeed sick and that was the reason I was absent from school.

There was so much pressure on me because I had to tighten my belt, cover up from where the teacher started, and catch up with my mates. The day for the exams came and I was able to execute all my project works and exams without showing signs of sickness.

Then my miracle started

My hospitalisation while in Senior High School, turned out to be the last. I never had to call my parents to discuss sickness throughout my tertiary education.

Yes. you read it well. Throughout my three-year stay in Uni, I was never admitted to the hospital. Although there were times I fell sick, I can say within three days, I felt better.

This is a miracle. For a long time in my life, I have gained some breathing space from this sickness.

The last time I was admitted to the hospital was due to stress and inadequate sleep. But since then, I have never fallen sick; neither have I been admitted at the hospital.

I feel God has seen my suffering and He has answered my prayers. Yes! God has come through for me and has given me the miracle I have longed for since childhood.

Indeed, there’s no way I could write this piece without commending and appreciating my parents.

Discerning reader, allow me to appreciate and thank my parents for their immense support and love shown to me these past years when I was going through the excruciating pains. I am grateful for your love and support. God bless you, Mr and Mrs Owusu.

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The writer is an online journalist and a freelance graphic designer with The Multimedia Group.