HEALED OF TERMINAL CANCER
On the 7th day of the 7th month of the year 2006 my life changed irrevocably. (Again!)
I have tried to recount exactly what has been said and the spirit in which it was communicated because I do not want to sensationalise nor exaggerate this story in any way, shape or form.
On the 3rd of July, (my 55th birthday) I had awakened to barely being able to stand on my left leg. It was a condition that had been in evidence for some years but had begun to worsen over the last few months and one that I had here-to-fore put down to a pinched nerve in my back, possibly exacerbated by two plus years of driving a cab and sitting through 12 hour shifts. Anyway, I finally gave into Helenmary’s (H’s) badgering and agreed to go and visit a doctor, which I did the very next day and whilst there I also asked him (because of H’s ‘encouragement’ once again!) to take blood and test my cholesterol and blood sugar as well, because I had been evincing other worrying symptoms for quite a few years, symptoms which I had continuously dismissed as irrelevant. On hearing what these symptoms were and because of my age the doctor announced that he would test my PSA at the same time, I didn’t even know what that was.
On Thursday I received a call to make an appointment to see the doctor immediately which I did so for Friday the 7th. When H and I sat down in the doctors office (we knew him outside of the medical profession!) he appeared quite emotional and declared that the scans of my back revealed no pinched nerve whatsoever and that I had a PSA rating which was “off the chart.” With that information plus that of my various other symptoms he had conferred with some of his oncology colleagues and received the news that I very probably had an advanced terminal cancer and presumably had a limited time span available to me.
My first thought was that I had not been a very obedient Christian and had in fact sinned quite badly and this was therefore my punishment, which I accepted to be just. Just as quickly I rationalised that going to heaven was not much of a punishment and the real burden would fall on my family, which made me feel really bad until I realised that I had confessed and repented of all my past actions and that God in His mercy had forgiven me. Thereafter a peace that literally bypasses all understanding settled onto my shoulders and I discovered a marvellous conviction that I was safe in the hands of God and that if I had a day, a week, a month or 20 more years, I was in His care and I was OK with whatever He had planned. All of this thinking took about a millisecond to pass through my mind but it gives anyone reading this account some idea of my first thoughts at the time.
To my amazement I discovered that H felt the same sense of peace that I did and we then concentrated on trying to make our doctor feel OK (He knows of our faith!).
We never said anything to the children at that point primarily because we didn’t know how to break it too them. That night and the next day were quite surreal, H and I shed some tears together because we were both about to lose our respective best friend in the world and we also realised that the effect on the children was going to be upsetting. That first Sunday morning, walking into church was an experience I will remember for as long as I live. We were both immediately emotionally moved about the significance of this traditional meeting together. When we started to sing, every word of every song resonated with enormous significance (I have often since wished that I could maintain this level of an emotional/spiritual elevation but I think to do so would be beyond our feeble body’s capabilities to cope with on an ongoing basis) and the presence of the Holy Spirit quickly brought me to tears. After the service Tyrone called up people who wanted prayer and turned directly to me and said: “Mike please come up to the front, I want to pray for you.” I was taken aback and when he and Leanne Benn anointed my forehead with oil and started to pray for me I became quite emotional.
All was good, we had been refreshed, encouraged and secure in God’s love but He was not finished with us. We were in the car and moving off when Helen Weaver ran up with words to this effect: “God has given me a word for you which I cannot let go of. When I saw you being ministered to I thought that all is well, the Lord has said what he intended to and that what I had to say was irrelevant, but He would not let me go, therefore this is what the Lord wants me to tell you: He has His arms firmly around your shoulders and he wants you to know how much he loves you and that he has your best interests at heart.”
I cannot adequately communicate how much those few words meant to us. It was in its simplicity one of the most profound sentences ever spoken to me and I encourage all Christians who read this account to never think that what you have from God for another believer (or unbeliever for that matter) is of little or no significance. The timing of that pronouncement and the encouragement that it brought to H and I set the tone for our entire walk through this experience, it also gave us the courage to tell the children when we arrived home.
The story then becomes an endless round of blood tests, x-rays, ultra-sounds, prodding’s, biopsies, bodily invasions and generally speaking, rather unpleasant explorations with the results being roughly articulated thus: “We have never seen such an advanced and aggressive cancer of its type in a man of your age.” “This disease has spread so rapidly that it is to all intents and purposes everywhere in your body.”(Of the six biopsies undertaken the best result was a 70 percent saturation level) The general consensus was that there was little that could be done at such an advanced stage and we were then shunted of to that highest order of the medical profession; the specialist!
At this point we were still quite at peace with everything and in fact had received what we thought was quite a positive full-body scan of potential cancer hot-spots, it appeared to show that the disease had not spread in the way that medical science had predicted it would. However, our medical specialist (urology) was completely dismissive of the supposed ‘positive’ result and said that the machines were to insensitive to illustrate the spread (insensitivity was a word bouncing around in my head, but for a different reason) and that given all the results of the various testings (thus far at three different laboratory’s) my situation was beyond treatment.
The thought that immediately sprung to my mind then was: “Great! This means that when God does something, the medical profession cannot claim the glory.” However, my very next thought was: “How can I be thinking such a thing, this fellow had just confirmed my death sentence!”
Through it all the peace remained rock steady…I thank God for His grace at these times!
The specialist then explained quite patiently why I had no hope, an explanation which appeared to be quite valid on a scientific level at least. Anyway he ended with a suggestion to have the tests done again at his institution just to make sure, but added that we would have to consult with another specialist because he was off on vacation.
If I recall correctly H and I wished him a happy holiday.
A couple of weeks passed and we returned to the hospital for a meeting with the next specialist who turned out to be a completely different kettle of fish from the first. A wiry ‘Churchillian’ (we’ll fight them on the beaches…) type character whose response to the seemingly useless situation was: “We cannot cure this disease but we can fight it with a cocktail of drugs to prolong and ensure your quality of life, and when the cancer builds up a resistance to this drug, as it will, (evidently the drugs in question only kill a percentage of the cells leaving the remaining ones to build a wall of resistance) we will try another mix and another after that, and the good news is that with the levels of research going into prostate cancer, by the time that one become ineffective another cocktail will probably be on the market.” All in all a remarkably different response from the first specialist.
This doctor also said that although somebody at such an advanced stage of cancer would not normally be treated with radiation therapy, given my age what do we have to lose by experimenting. He then set up a meeting with a radiologist friend at Flinders Private hospital, a meeting which when we attended and were given reading material re: the procedures, we discovered that there was no way that we could afford to pay the substantial gap between the Medicare coverage and the cost that they charged. When we shared this with the doctor, a man that we had met for the first time that day, he stated that he would waive the difference and we could go ahead and have the treatment. God works in mysterious ways! So ensued 7½ weeks of daily radiation treatment to which I brought my three year old son who proved to be a huge hit with the staff, an inclusion which made the whole experience not at all unpleasant.
Because no one had been sure of when the radiation treatment would begin (I was accepted so quickly that all scheduling was thrown out of kilter) it so happened that half-way through the treatment the first series of progress tests fell due. I had the necessary blood work completed and after three weeks I visited the specialist for a diagnoses of the developments. To everyone’s astonishment the test showed that my PSA levels had returned to an almost normal level. Helenmary’s first question was to ask if the doctor had the correct patients results to which he replied: “I have already double checked” which showed that he too was not quite sure of what had happened. This was the second specialist, the one who had been the most positive but even he had stated that the cancer could not be cured but that through a series of drug ‘cocktails’ we could hold it back for a period of time, that is until it built up the resistance that he said it would. His reply to this peculiar result was that we should just continue with all the treatments and see what happened at the next test.
Needless to say H and I were rather excited about these results but we decided to remain circumspect about announcing them in case the test was some sort of aberration and it would be unfair, particularly for the children, to engender false expectations. Therefore we continued along the path of the radiation treatment and hormone injections.
Three months later another series of tests indicated that the PSA readings were even better then the last time, in fact they were a ‘good’ normal. Once again the specialist was at a loss to explain what had happened and his suggestion was that we continue with the injections to a certain point and then stop them altogether (the radiation treatment had been completed) and then, after a certain period I would undergo another series of tests to see if the drugs had somehow been masking the cancer or not.
I have just recently undergone that third series of tests; blood-work, ultra-sound and internal examination and the verdict of the specialist was: “Nobody would ever believe that you have had anything wrong with you”. The tumour, evidently of a considerable size had disappeared, and the PSA reading was ‘undetectable.’
I will freely acknowledge that in the past I have struggled with a degree of scepticism when it comes to miracle healings in the church.(Western) This is not because I do not believe that God can do it or even that he desires to do so, but purely because I believe that many have ‘manufactured’ circumstances to enhance their own reputations, plus others feel the need to ‘witness’ miracles for entertainment purposes or perhaps because of a lack of fundamental faith. H and I also did not pray specifically for a healing in my situation (though I am aware that many did so and if any are reading this I thank them from the bottom of my heart and pray many, many blessing over them.) because we were so convinced that God had us in the palm of His hand that whatever the outcome was to be, it would be the right one, a conviction that surrounded us with a peace that is truly “beyond understanding” (Phil 4:6,7). I wish that such an assurance could be evident in every area of my life, though perhaps this is what we all ought to pray and work towards.
The net result of being in the very centre of such a profound healing miracle is one of wonderment and significantly increased faith. However, I am still trying to work through the implications of this experience and if I can be quite candid, I can but express my amazement by means of the question: Why me? Interestingly this was not the question asked when first appraised of the cancer but rather the question asked when healed of it!
Mike and Helenmary McMeekin
