My friend Anna had been suffering from stomach pain. For a few months, she had been trying painkillers, a change of diet and acupuncture without results. She was now hoping to find a holistic treatment or some native medicine that would help her. As a last resort she’d agreed to try the psychic surgeon recommended by Romy.

When she told me what she was planning to do, I laughed. I had read several articles deriding faith healers as quacks and charlatans, but since she was desperate, and felt it was her last hope, I agreed to accompany her. I brought my camera, planning to take photos and write an article that would expose psychic surgery as a hoax.

The healer lived in a small two-story house on the outskirts of Manila. As we climbed the creaky wooden stairs, I was impressed by the letters of gratitude written by patients from around the world—faded, yellowing clippings of newspaper articles praising the healer—and photographs taken with smiling dignitaries—hanging along the stairwell wall. The landing led to a shrine dominated by an altar and several large framed pictures. The altar was adorned with donations of flowers and burning candles.

On one side of the altar hung a portrait of Jesus with a bleeding heart and on the other, the Virgin Mary crying tears of blood. A soft-spoken woman showed us a miraculous picture of the Infant of Prague. She pointed out that it was revered because unlike other statues and pictures of the infant Jesus, he was holding the globe, not in his right hand but in his left. When she was out of earshot, I whispered to Nadya, “All they had to do was stand the statue in front of a mirror and take a picture. Some miracle.”

The woman led us to a small bright room where only a picture of Jesus hung above a white examining table. She asked Nadya to lie down and roll up her shirt. She had prepared a bowl of water beside the table. Slowly she pressed a soaked cotton swab against Anna’s stomach.

Just then the psychic surgeon entered the room. He was a small, unassuming man but the room was somehow illuminated by his presence. His eyes mimicked the warm smile on his face and his gentle demeanor revealed an inner peace.

He explained to us in a soft, soothing voice that the operation he was about to perform was based on faith and entirely spiritual. The visible manifestations – the incision by the hand, the appearance of blood and the feeling of pain – were necessary, only because they helped the patient believe in the healing that was actually taking place inside his body. He humbly assured us that he did not possess supernatural powers and the operation only demonstrated how the healing power of God could be miraculously transmitted through a receptive human being.

He closed his eyes, his lips moving as he prayed silently. He washed his fingers in the small bowl, shook off the excess water, then put her extended middle fingers into her stomach. From a wound that spurted blood, he pulled long filament-like clots. I scrutinized her hands and examined the wound but could see nothing suspicious except that the color of the blood seemed a little pale. When her operation was over, Nadya claimed that for the first time in many months she didn’t seem to feel any pain.  

I tried to size him up. If this was some kind of bogus miracle performed by a shrewd hustler I didn’t want to be taken for a sucker. Since I realized that the only way I could understand what had happened, was to experience the curing session myself, I told the surgeon I also had a stomach ache.

While they prepared the bowl and tissues, I removed my shirt and climbed onto the operating table. When everything was ready and I was lying on my back, the doctor felt around my abdomen and pressed his fingers firmly into an area just below the ribcage. I felt a sharp stab, like an incision being made. Intense cramps gripped my stomach. His entire hand seemed to be violently manipulating my internal organs, causing the digestive juices to make loud gurgling sounds. I closed my eyes to shut out the pain.

When I opened my eyes to examine my stomach, it was covered in blood.     

“How you feeling?” the healer said as he wiped away the blood.

“Pretty good.”      

“There was a lot of negative energy in your stomach which needed to be purged.”

After he had finished, I felt strangely cleansed and calm.

I looked down at my stomach and thought I could see the faint trace of a scar.