There Can Be Miracles

Think back to late 90’s, there was a movie from Dreamworks called Prince of Egypt that had the hit song “There Can Be Miracles”. It was covered by many and sung way to many times at middle school fine arts festivals and vocal showcases. Or perhaps you remember the much older song by Barry Manilow (don’t judge, my mom listened to him, I did not choose to) It’s A Miracle.    
It went something like “a true, blue spectacle a miracle come true”.  Barf. Cheesy. Gag. I don’t like either of those songs. But Tammy, why do you know the lyrics? Hmmmm? I’m defective. I know lyrics to so many songs. If I could replace the space that song lyrics take up in my brain with actually useful knowledge, I could be a neuroscientist or astrophysicist or some other genius. Alas, I’m a stay at home mom with two currently useless licenses: music education and school counseling.  Useless because I cannot currently work in a school setting due to being on immunosuppressants. But I can win at song lyric trivia or “Encore” any day of the week! My point is that those are the only two songs that popped up in my brain when I thought of “miracle”.

Three years ago today, I sat in the very chair I am now writing this blog post from and I was shivering, feverish and fighting an infection. I had been fighting a cold since Christmas and on January 18th of 2016, I went to my primary care provider for an antibiotic. She did some bloodwork just to be sure it wasn’t anything like a relapse. My counts were all low. I called Loyola and they wanted to see me so Dan and I went in. Bloodwork was done and we anxiously waited to get a bone marrow biopsy done. My dr came out and said that the bloodwork showed that my counts had come up a bit from what my test showed the day prior at my primary care dr and we were sent home without need for a bone marrow biopsy. It was probably a viral infection and since I wasn’t having fevers she was not overly concerned. I was to come back in two day and have blood drawn again to make sure it continued to show rising counts.  January 22, we returned to Loyola for more labs and waited in the exam room for my doctor. It was a long wait. She came in and said my bloodwork looked worse and told me to go get it drawn again. She wanted to be sure it had really dropped and wasn’t a lab error.  Another blood draw. Same low counts. Now an unplanned bone marrow biopsy. I cried. Sobbed. From the pain, from the fear of the unknown, from knowing in my gut I was relapsing. I cried and desperately asked her, in between sobs as she chiseled a giant hollow needle into my pelvis, “do you think I’m relapsing?”. She wouldn’t say. Doctors can’t predict the future and they won’t try. I laid on that exam table, face down, squeezing Dan’s hand as I sobbed and prayed for God to take it all away and let me live. The pain of the biopsy is brutal. It is a horrendous procedure which I’ve endured 17 times. This one was by far the worst because of the emotional baggage it had along with it.

We waited. Waited for the early results from the biopsy. We were in the waiting area in the Cancer Center and Dr. Dean came out to tell us it was inconclusive. She sent us home. Hope! Maybe it was just viral!

January 26, my favorite aunt’s birthday. Ok fine, she’s my only aunt. But she’s my favorite only aunt! I woke up and probably called her like I’m going to do today in a short while. I was feeling worse. This viral infection was getting worse. I now had chills and a fever. I called Loyola and they told me to go to my local ER for “a quick blood test”. I didn’t say goodbye to my boys beyond a quick hug and a “I’ll be back in a bit”. My mother in law, Sue, took me to the hospital and Dan stayed home with the boys. They drew my blood and we waited in a triage room at Porter Regional Hospital. Finally, a doctor came in and told me that my counts were extremely low and they had contacted Loyola. My platelets were below 20. I was in danger of bleeding out from any minor injury.  I had to be driven to Loyola in an ambulance. My God, why? I didn’t even say goodbye to my boys. My husband wasn’t with me. Why? How is this happening? I knew. I was relapsing. Nobody would confirm it but I knew. The ER staff still said it could be a bad virus. I called my mom from the ambulance and told her it could be viral. I clung to that. A sweet nurse at Porter hugged me and prayed over me before I got in the ambulance. I wish I knew her name to go thank her because after she prayed over me, I felt peace. I felt like God was in control once again and I had to let Him take the reigns and just hang on for the ride. Speaking of rides....driving 80/94 at night in the rain is hard enough but riding backwards in an ambulance knowing that you’re relapsing is a whole other level of hard. Yet, I was making small talk with the paramedic and thinking ahead to all the tv shows I will be catching up on. I could not think about my boys. Dan was meeting me at the hospital. My heart ached and yet I felt peace. I couldn’ explain it yet.

The next day was a lot of tests and waiting for answers. I was told about 6 months prior to this that I had a genetic defect and did not have any match for a donor if I were to need one. Well here I was. Needing one. I had no full blood siblings. My cousins, Justin and Julie, were both tested. Typically cousins are not considered but my cousins are special. They are double cousins. My dad is their dad’s brother and my mom is their mom’s sister. The Harrell brothers married the Weldon sisters. It sounds weird and sometimes people think our family tree has loops, but its not weird. Julie wasn’t a match, which surprised me because we look similar in some pictures, but Justin was a close match. Nurses repeatedly asked me if he was really “just your cousin”. People thought maybe he was really my brother. He would’ve been my donor if needed.

Finally, my doctor came in, the day after I was admitted and confirmed the relapse. She also said that there was a glitch. A computer glitch. I did not have a genetic defect. I had 8 donors who were a good match. There is is. The miracle. A giant world renowned medical center such as Loyola does not make mistakes like this. The Be The Match Foundation doesn’t make mistakes like this. A computer glitch? For real? Nope. It was a miracle. A true blue spectacle miracle come true. God can change water into wine, He can feed 5000 with two loaves and a fish, He can walk on water and He can remove genetic defects. And here I am, January 26th, 2019 to tell you about it. There is a God and He is good. Now, I need to go call my favorite aunt and wish her a Happy Birthday.