I didn't intend on writing this at this time so please excuse my lack of eloquence.  I have been in the process of writing down the complete story of my 7 year old  son's healing of myelodysplastic syndrome.   This is an extremely difficult as well as emotional thing for me to do but I feel the Lord's desire for me to do so as well as an obligation to Him to honor Him with the testimony of what He has done, and continues to do, in my son's life.
 
Shortly after Thanksgiving of 1997, my son, Jonathan, became ill with a sore throat and fever.  His pediatrician diagnosed him with a strep throat and he was treated accordingly.  I noticed that he didn't seem to be bouncing back from this as quickly as he normally did whenever he got sick and was feeling a bit uneasy.  Little did I know what was soon to be.  He returned to school but fell sick again just a couple of weeks later.  I found this strange as he was not a sickly child and rarely had occasion to see a doctor.  This time, the diagnosis was a bad case of the flu.

Jonathan was given a shot and a prescription for antibiotics.  Later on that evening, the fever continued to rise and was not responding to the Tylenol nor did it seem to be responding to the antibiotics.  I called the doctor's office several times and was instructed by the nurse on what to do.  She explained to me that I should wait 72 hours as the shot often took that long to work.  That following Friday morning marked my 72 hour deadline and the fever finally subsided.  Later that evening it returned as low grade but by the next morning Jonathan seemed to be fine.  This was short-lived; however, as he fell sick again approximately 2-3 weeks later.
 
His fever was towering over 105 degrees again after he was given a shot and more antibiotics.  I knew that I needed to call in for reinforcements.  I was praying without ceasing but wanted the assurance of back-ups so I contacted the prayer chain at church.  Not only did they pray, but my pastor came to our home and prayed over my son and annointed him with oil.  He explained to us that the oil itself was not the source of power but that he was annointing Jonathan in obedience to God's word.  We brought Jonathan back to the doctor two more times that same week.  Each time he was given different medicine;  each time his fever continued to rise.  On the final visit to his pediatrician, we were sent to get bloodwork at the local hospital  as his doctor was beginning to be concerned since Jonathan was still running fever but had no signs of infection.  My husband and I had also been inquiring as to what could be wrong;  each time we were told that this type of thing was common.  As a mother, however, I knew that something was terribly wrong.
 
To make a long story not as long, I was rushed to Children's Hospital in New Orleans, LA as soon as the doctor received the bloodwork.  His concern:  Leukemia.  He reassured me that even if Jonathan did have leukemia, that nowadays it was curable and that I should remain calm. Easy for him to say!  I struggled to hold back the tears as I called my husband at work with the news.  I always made sure to thank God for my children's good health and this just didn't make any sense to me.  After all, other people's children got terminal illnesses, not mine.  At least that's what I guess I always believed in the back of my head.
I arranged to pick him up on the way to the hospital.  I was in shock but knew that I couldn't allow myself to feel the pain just yet.  Jonathan needed me.
 
When we arrived at Children's Hospital, they were waiting for us.  Jonathan was scheduled for a bone marrow aspiration and a spinal tap on Monday morning.  The nurse explained to me that I had a very sick child.  The look of pity on her face confirmed it.  The weekend creeped by as they continuously drained blood from my baby's arm and prodded him with needles.  He was given 3 transfusions in less than 30 hours as his blood counts were critically low.  His platelet count was at 18,000, instead of over 150,000 as it should have been.  Even after the transfusion, it only increased to 43,000.  I prayed like never before.  We were blessed with countless amounts of visitors from my church - wonderful men and women of God I will never forget.
 
On Sunday evening, the night preceding the bone marrow test, I received a release like I had never felt before.  I knew that it could only be God - the God who promises a "peace that surpasses all understanding." (Phil 4:7)  I began to sing and praise the Lord like never before.  I assured my husband that everything would be all right.  I knew that God had spoke to me.  Of this, I was sure.
 
Unfortunately, sometimes God doesn't answer our prayers like we expect.  That next day, several hours after the surgery was completed, our worst fears were confirmed.  Jonathan was diagnosed with myelodysplastic syndrome, a sort of pre-leukemia.  We were told that this was actually worse than if he had full blown acute mycongeneous leukemia - the most fatal type.  His doctor explained that if Jonathan had AML, he would have a 30 percent chance of his body responding to chemotherapy.  By starting with MDS, his chances were reduced.  His best chance was a bone marrow transplant.  He was given a 50 percent chance of survival with a perfect related match, less than a 1 in 10,000 chance of finding.  I was floored.  I glanced over at my husband and he was as white as a ghost.  I felt empty, like everything inside of me that had ever mattered had been taken away.  His doctor confirmed that Jonathan's diagnosis was the worst case scenario.  I couldn't speak;  all I could manage to tell my husband was that Jonathan had to be okay because God told me he would, and God was true to His word.
 
Later that evening, after I had just finished praying with my pastor and some friends, I was filled with a revelation.  Jonathan would be okay because my God was a God who was true to His word.  I felt closer to God than I have ever felt before.  I felt that we shared a strange bond - He gave His son in propiation for our sins.  Could I let go of my son in the same way that He let go of His?  I was not willing to do that and begged God to spare Him.  Again, God spoke to me -  it would just have to be a bigger miracle!
 
 
That evening, Jonathan had to have every bone in his body x-rayed.  He screamed in pain as I laid him on the tables.  I assumed the pain was from the bone marrow aspiration and spinal tap.  The nurses all assured me that it wasn't;  it was due to the progression of his disease.  I refused to accept that.  His pain got so intense that he had to be given morphine.  In addition to this, Jonathan was developing a severe reaction to one of the many antibiotics they were giving him.  He broke out in a terrible rash all over his body.  The prognosis was looking dimmer by the day.  His blood pressure dropped to dangerously low readings.  Our biggest hope was that his 13 year old brother would turn out to be a match for his bone marrow as a sibling had the highest chance of matching.  I would have preferred that it be me or my husband but I knew that I was already asking for a lot.  I pleaded to God for my son's life.  I promised that I would never stop singing His praises or speaking of Jonathan's healing.  But never did I expect to receive the gift I was about to receive from my heavenly father.
 
I assumed that Heath, my other son, would match Jonathan's bone marrow and that this would be how the healing would transpire.  Again, I was wrong.  In the meantime, we were receiving call after call from family and friends expressing their concern as well as their intents to pray for Jonathan.  I even received a call from an employee in the hospital, whom I did not know,   just to tell me that she was praying for Jonathan.   To this day, I could never figure out why this lady called me of all people.  I kept waiting for her to tell me about something I needed to take care of, like paperwork or something, but she never did.  The only thing she had to tell me was that she was praying for Jonathan.  I met another beautiful woman of God in the form of a pathologist at the hospital who came to take Jonathan's bloodwork in the middle of the night who promised me that she would go to the altar at church the next morning in prayer for my son.  I was deeply moved by her sincere concern.  All I
know is that her name was Miriam and that I will never forget her gift to me in the form of prayer for my son.   I suppose angels come in all shapes and sizes.  I think I had just met two of them.
 
By Wednesday, I noticed that Jonathan's ANC reading had increased to "15".  "ANC" stands for '"absolute neutrophil count.  This is what determines his ability to fight infection, and it should have been well over "2000".  This is the first time I had seen it go over "0" so I made a comment to the nurses that he was improving.  They looked at me with a pathetic expression and explained that the reading would fluctuate and this was nothing to get excited about.  However, the next morning my husband had told me that he felt that something had taken place at church the night before and that he felt God's presence like never before.  The church had dedicated this night to praying for Jonathan, as well as established a 24 hour prayer line especially for Jonathan in addition to Monday evening prayer services.  I told my husband that it was funny he should say that because Jonathan had gotten a reading on his ANC of "15" whereas it had never gone over "0".  I was desperate to hold on to whatever hope I could find.  We had no bone marrow donor and time was short.  I knew that this miracle would have to be huge, but
I knew that my God was huge, and merciful.
 
We were released to go home on Friday, January 16, 1998 in the evening after Jonathan had a port-a-cath inserted in his chest (a device for taking and giving blood and administering medication).  This was necessary because his veins were collapsing and the doctor assured us that he would have to be sustained with continuous transfusions and antibiotics until a donor could be found.  She explained that Jonathan was at a high risk of infection and that he would be better off at home in isolation than at the hospital.  We were told that if  he should run a fever, we should take him to the local emergency room and have them call Children's Hospital for instructions to sustain him until he could be transported by ambulance to New Orleans.  We were given an appointment for the following Tuesday to bring him in to have transfusions and whatever else was necessary.
 
On Tuesday, January 20, 1998, Jonathan's bloodwork was taken 3 times.  The doctor inquired as to where we had taken Jonathan to receive blood.  We assured her that we had not taken him anywhere.  She had never seen anything like it.  He was still critical but his bloodwork had actually improved, on its own, moreso than after he had had several tranfusions prior to this.  We smiled and told her, "Prayer works."

Everyone we spoke to over there confirmed that what happened to Jonathan was unheard of - that they had never seen anything like this happen before.  I never doubted his diagnosis; I knew that several different doctors and radiologists had concurred that Jonathan had MDS. There was very clear evidence of  dysplastic cells in the bone marrow.  Regardless, the fact that Jonathan's body was seemingly repairing itself from such a critical state was nothing short of miraculous.
 
We've taken Jonathan back numerous times for check-ups and bloodwork.  His progress is continuing.  He was given another bone marrow aspiration on May 26, 1998, which showed evidence of dysplasia, however, it was much improved.  He is scheduled to have another bone marrow aspiration in November to check for dysplasia.  His doctor has long since stopped trying to explain what is going on with him.  I, on the other hand, have no problems explaining it.  I pray because I believe prayers are answered.  God is in control of everything and He has given me the gift of my son being returned to me.  Suddenly, I feel like the richest person in the world.  And, I can't stop praising His name.  By His stripes, Jonathan is healed. (1 Peter 2:24).  Thank you, Jesus!