Two years ago I was working at a facility for youthful offenders. I worked overnight, so I had many hours of quiet time where I would write mantras over and over, especially “Om Siva Baba”. This was in itself a small miracle, because I had prayed to have a job where I could get paid to write mantras.

One day, in order to fight off a bad cold, I consumed an herbal supplement to help boost my immune system. Then went to my night shift. I became progressively sicker and barely just held on until I could return home. I suffered for another two hours and then finally vomited spectacularly for a half hour. I felt much better and resumed my normal life. It turned out I was one of a small percentage of people for whom that specific herb is poisonous.

A few months later, I began to feel sick before my shift started. I went to work anyway, but I got sicker and sicker. After six hours, I started feeling like I had been poisoned again. I had been extra careful about what I put in my body after that first episode, yet here I was again: feeling the same way. I started vomiting again and did so six times in less than an hour. This time, however, I did not feel any better. In fact, I felt worse.

Finally I called my supervisor and told him I couldn’t continue. When he showed up with a driver, they found me curled up on the bathroom floor in the staff office. They asked me where I wanted to go and I said I just wanted to go home. But then he said, very gently, maybe you should go to the hospital instead, in case it’s something serious. Something in his tone told me Datta was talking to me through my supervisor so I reluctantly agreed.

I hate hospitals, but I was treated very well from the moment I described my symptoms. It turned out I had a case of acute appendicitis and I was told later I was lucky I had shown up when I did, because it was close to bursting. Every one of the staff treated me well, and the hospital even got a top-flight surgeon to take me on, even though his schedule was already full. Someone got him involved, he took on the case, and came to talk to me for a minute or two. When he left, the male nurse who was about to do my EKG, told me, “You are very, very lucky. He is one of the best surgeons here.” There was unmistakable reverence and respect for this surgeon. I started to relax, as it finally was dawning on me through my sickness that Datta was all over this problem and taking care of me.

As it turned out, HE certainly was. The surgery went off without a hitch; there were two ways it could get done and the easier one would require a hospital stay of only 48 hours, whereas the second procedure would have required a week’s stay. I received the easier surgery. Also, after the surgery, they wheeled me up to where I would spend my stay and it was packed with people. Apparently, they were putting three and four people to a room, something I did not look forward to. Instead, they took me to an entirely different hospital floor which was not overfull. On this floor, a caring staff took care of me instead of an overworked and shorthanded staff. I received e a private room right in front of the nurses’ station and my every need was taken care of.

The next day I was sitting up when a maintenance guy was in the room. Out of the blue, we started talking and then he told me I should consider myself lucky. The air conditioning had broken down in the wing I was in before being moved and my current room was the only room in the entire building that still had working AC. This was in August, on what would be recorded as the hottest day of the year.

Datta wasn’t finished yet. After I returned home and received the hospital bills, I realized that my health insurance was not going to cover the entire bill; I would have out-of-pocket expenses of over $2,500. I did not have this money and prayed intensely to Datta for help. One day I heard Him tell me psychically: “call the insurance company now!” So I did. I reached a very helpful supervisor on my first try. The supervisor reviewed my case on the spot, and decided the entire bill should be paid by the insurance company. As a result, I ended up paying just the co-pay for my medication: an insignificant fee of $25.

My gratitude to Datta for these and other miracles cannot be expressed in words.