Medicine or Miracle?

In late 2002, I was sitting at a table on the porch of the Serenity Club in Las Vegas listening to the personal testimonies of some fellow recoverees. As I idly scratched my face I found something that I suspected was an embarrassing left over from dinner and scratched it off. Very soon afterward, one of my friends pointed to the spot and remarked, “You’re bleeding.” A clean white handkerchief confirmed his assertion. Thirty minutes later, as the meeting concluded, I was still unsuccessfully dabbing away. I quickly went through the post-meeting ritual of greeting newcomers, hugging old-timers and debating the usefulness of various techniques to enlist new members to our program.

After returning home, I went immediately to the medicine cabinet and found a small band aid and was finally able to stem the flow. Even though the device featured Scooby Doo printed on it (Jan, like many nurses, allows her gallows humor to rise to the top) it worked.

The next morning I found old Scooby had done the job and all seemed normal. However, a new concern arose. In a foiled attempt to recover some falling items I apparently had provoked some bruising on my arms. After my morning shower, I checked and found bruising in several other locations, which collectively raised some warning flags. I was right in my assumption of Jan’s response to conversation on the subject, “You ought to go see the Doctor.” I did and he used the usual doctor template and took blood, used his stethoscope all over and said, “Hmmm” a lot. After we enjoyed our usual post visit “vampire” banter I went back to my life.

Now, fast forward to the eighth hole at Black Horse golf course enjoying the rare privilege of an afternoon with my brother in a sport which I love and he tolerates. My cell phone rang and it was the doctor. Through his hysteria I learned the lab results had come back and he had set up a more comprehensive test with a local lab in about two hours and an office visit immediately thereafter. Since I was last hospitalized in 1936 and enjoyed, through God’s good grace, a life free of health problems (not one sick day in fifty working years) most medical contact has been a jocular exchange after routine physicals and renewals of my CDL health card. I sensed his panic and became concerned.

None of the physicians ever attached a name to the condition other than low platelet count in the blood but it does have a name: thrombocytopenia. Platelets are the tiny discs stored in the spleen which enable clotting (a natural process) of blood when it is trying to exceed its normal flow path. For those who relate best to numbers, a normal count would be well in excess of 100,000. Mine was 1000! No wonder he was panicky. There is no pain associated with the condition so this usual warning sign is unavailable. The causes offer many possibilities but the most usual, acute alcoholism, was denied since I hadn’t partaken of any alcohol in nearly 22 years at that point.

After a couple of failed attempts to reconcile the count by oral medication, the doctor decided on intravenous use of immunoglobulin. This involves sitting in a recliner for eight hours while this stuff drips into your veins at the rate of $16,000 a quart. The upside was that I decided it was time for a re-read of the Doctrine and Covenants which always provokes the question, “Oh, what are you reading?” What better way to segue into the next logical conversation?

As a result of prayer and semi-monthly treatments, the condition abated and the platelet count rose to the point where an internal injury would not cause my immediate death. That’s always nice, though the count was still very low. Other parallel events were taking place which were to have a profound affect on the treatment.

Brother Ray Treat and his marvelous wife Jean came through Las Vegas on their way home to Independence. Marge Stanbridge called and asked if I would give them the “Cook’s Tour” of the valley. Being isolated in sin city I had no knowledge of them or of his ongoing vital work with the Book of Mormon, but leaped at the opportunity to be with them and share the beautiful aspects of that end of the desert. Once you get away from the slots and the "All-Day-Buffets" the region has a huge offering of natural wonders. It had also been a long time since I had the opportunity to be with an elder.

Marge also called Jan and encouraged her to come to our meeting Sunday AM and learn of Ray’s important work. Jan was shortly thereafter baptized into the Restored Church of Jesus Christ. As a result of the visit and the direction of God, Ray ordained two of our men to be elders. Worldly cares were set aside and we all bathed in the light of the Lord. It was a huge lift for our tiny living room branch.

Meanwhile, my doctor, knowing we were about to leave the area for Missouri, found a specialist in Springfield for me and suggested one last course of immunoglobulin since the count was still down around 25,000. While sitting in the recliner reading the D & C I came to the conclusion that this foolishness had to end and I was remiss not to use that which God had so generously promised. When I got home, I called the newly ordained pastor (Hartley Stanbridge) and requested an administration. He, of course, complied at the earliest opportunity in company with the other elder (George Toomey.)

This administration occurred in January 2004. We moved in March to the Ozarks and I am happy, but not surprised, to announce that I have neither consulted a physician about nor have I sought any treatment for my former condition. In the intervening 3 ½ years I have thanked God daily for relieving me of this life threatening condition. Am I so important that God wishes to preserve me for a long and healthy life? I do not flatter myself by thinking so. I would rather believe that He lives up to His promises and rewards faith with results. After all, it’s in the “Book.”

What has prompted all this? Yesterday, I received a succinct note from my local MD to inform me of a test which he ran as part of routine physical for renewal of a prescription for high blood pressure. I shall quote it here: “Your recent lab work showed your kidneys to be working well. Your platelet count was up from previous. It is now 92,000.”

If you’re looking for a good physician, I have one whom I highly recommend. You and your elders have His address and He does make house calls. He does not work cheap, though; He wants your all. Give it to Him.

In His abiding love,

Cecil Moon