The doctors were disillusioned, as my parents later told me, that they had to go make a surgical incision in my chest to relieve the fluid that that collected around my lungs. My young age, however, made this intervention even more difficult. The necessary tests were performed on that Friday, which showed that things were totally bleak, so at the meeting of the Physicians, they decided to go ahead the next Monday with further tests and the ultimately the surgical procedure.
On Friday evening, while I was sleeping in bed with the protective railings up, my mother was sleeping in a chair next to me, and something immediately woke me up, and I saw an elderly monk enter in from the door to the balcony. He turned towards me, put down the iron railing, and made the sign of the cross, blessing me three times. I was startled, and with joyous surprise, I cried out loudly to my mother who was next to me, but she, strangely, did not here me. That unknown monk smiled lovingly, and then left straightaway.
When my mother awoke the next morning, she saw with astonishment that the railing was down, and that I was cheerful. I explained as best I could at that age about this wondrous visit by a monk, and they began to show me different pictures of Saints so I could indicate which that monk might resemble. My gaze, however, fell on the picture of Elder Paisios from a book from the Holy Monastery of Souroti which my mother was reading those days.