I had a serious talk with God a couple of months ago. I told him, while I was thankful for his healing of me from cancer by modern medicine, I wanted a “miracle miracle.”

Call it selfish, call it ungrateful, call it what you want— but if anything call it honesty.

I told the Lord I wanted a miracle miracle because I wanted Him to receive all the glory. I wanted people to know that there was NO other explanation as to what he has done in my body, except for that of, a miracle.

I was hospitalized on Sunday, July 9, 2023 with neutropenic fevers. This is not the first time this has happened throughout my journey. The goal of the chemotherapy, at least in this last round, was to pretty much wipe out everything (blood cells, ect.) without actually killing me.

When I arrived at the ER, my hemoglobin was 5.9. 😳

I was in the hospital for 8 days, and during this time I received 5 units of blood and 1 unit of platelets. I ran fevers of up to 101, which doesn’t sound like much, but they typically don’t give Leukemia patients Tylenol. I felt awful. I had no relief. Some nurses wanted to try and break my fever by taking the covers off of me, even though I was chilling! I get it, though.

Midweek, I tested positive for Covid. Now a “covid patient” they moved me from my beloved “4 East” at Memorial Hospital to the 7th floor.

It’s interesting that I was afraid to leave one part of the hospital for another. “My people” knew me on 4 East. They knew my needs as a patient, they knew my character, they knew I wouldn’t complain for no reason, ect. It is scary having someone new take care of you!

To my surprise, the 7th floor was a pleasant stay (if that phrase can be used to describe a hospital stay 🙈).

I had a much bigger room and nurses who made me laugh. However, I still just wanted to be home.

But my physicians would not release me until I had an “ANC” of .500. ANC stands for absolute neutrophil count.

When I arrived on July 9th, my ANC was .03 if that is any explanation with how far away I was from reaching that number.

All I knew to do was to reach out to my community and ask for prayer. I asked for people to send me voice memos of prayers, or to private message me their prayers.

I received hundreds of prayers!! 😭

When I had the strength, I would read them out loud. When I didn’t, I would read them in my head. And when I didn’t even have strength for that, I had my “Victory” playlist going on in the background.

And for the voice memo prayers I received, I would play them over and over again. I would stand in agreement with each prayer, whispering, a “Yes, in your name Jesus.”

My room was going to be full of prayers and worship.

That is what my spirit and soul cried out for. In the darkest and longest nights, it has been the Holy Spirit who has carried me through.

The day after I was diagnosed with COVID, my oncologist walks in and says, “You do not have covid.”

He didn’t really give me a reason why when I asked him what suddenly changed, but to me—it didn’t matter. I no longer had the fear of covid or covid in my book.

At this point the antibiotics were starting to work, my cough was improving, and my fever was breaking!

I was able to now have Tylenol which was such a relief on my tired, tired body.

But still, my “ANC” was too low for me to be released. It was .08, and needed to be .500.

I had specifically asked for prayers that my ANC or in other words, white blood cells, would rise. So many of you prayed specifically for that, and I am so grateful.

I woke up the next morning, and the physician walked in. She greeted me with,

“You must have prayed a lot of prayers last night, because your ANC went from .08 to .532! That is a miracle!”

That is a 562.5 percent increase in just 9 hours between my blood work. 🤯

Even the physicians recognized the Great Physician!

I felt God smile upon me as if he was saying,

“There’s your miracle miracle. 😉”