I don't know if I have told you about my Dad's Miraculous Miracle yet. Just a little background on the story- a little over 10 years ago my Dad John was diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia also known as CLL (I wrote about it here). He was 58 years old. It is common for males to get this later in life- if they do get it at all. At first I didn't know it was cancer. Yes, it had the name Leukemia in it, but since it also had the word Chronic, I felt that it wasn't dangerous and that we would overcome it within a short time. I distinctly remember the time someone mentioned the word "Cancer". It was probably about 6 months into his diagnosis and I was surprised that no one had said it before. It was like we were dancing around the subject.
Earlier this year, my Dad had run out of options and was still fighting CLL. He had tried all of the trial drugs and the only option left was a CarT cell transplant. This is where they take cells from your bone marrow, send it into a lab to be inserted with cancer fighting cells, and then transplanted back into your body.
This is a very risky operation, but without it he would die. The leukemia cells would take over. And so in March or April, he entered the City of Hope in Southern California and we hoped for a positive outcome. Going into it, we really didn't know what would happen. They had to make his immune system very low so it wouldn't fight off the cancer fighting cells. It was quite the process but yet simple at the same time.
At the time my Parents were aware of something called a Cytogenic Storm. We were not aware of this. This is when your brain does not recognize the new cancer fighting cells and begins to not recognize anything. A few days after my Dad's transplant, he went into a Cytogenic Storm state. He could not recognize anyone or anything. It pains me to even write about this and remember what happened. He would groan in pain and we had no idea how to help him. I lived 3 hours away and made the drive to see him and to check in with my Mom who was spending all of her time with him. She was amazing- so strong and courageous. It was a very, very scary time for our family.
And so we fast and prayed for a miracle. We didn't need a big miracle. Just a tiny one. One where we could talk to our Dad again. One where he could eat and sleep and laugh and play with his Grandbabies. I didn't expect this miracle. I knew it could happen, but I was prepared if it didn't.
And then one evening, I got a message from my Mom. It said "He said my name!" This was HUGE! He spoke- which means he could communicate- and he said my Mom's name so he recognized her. I'm crying just remembering this moment.
From then on, he began to learn the nurses' names and remember our names. He remembered nothing of the time where he was out of it. He laughed. He cried. He got giddy on a new type of medicine (wasn't that funny!!). He learned to walk again in a few short days. It was a Miracle! A Miraculous Miracle and I don't know what we did to deserve it- in fact, we didn't do anything to deserve it. It just came. Through faith and prayer and fasting. If it hadn't happened, things would have been okay too.
I remember the time I got to talk to him on the phone again and later to see him and hug him. They were completely ordinary moments but they will forever be etched in my mind. I love you, Dad!
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