Proof The Bible Is True

”I think I can help find your brother,” Anne said.

 

My friend had taken me by surprise. I gripped the phone tighter. “How?”

 

“From a search engine that publishes people’s names, addresses and phone numbers online.”

 

I hung up the phone feeling conflicted. I knew I needed to stay realistic, but a part of me felt a glimmer of hope. My life depended on tracking down my brother.

 

Four months earlier, I woke one morning with blinding back pain. A quick Google search indicated a kidney infection. I went in for a checkup, thinking I’d be prescribed antibiotics and be on my way. But 30 minutes into my appointment, my doctor was pointing out the bright spots on my chest X-ray, as big as hailstones.

 

I had mantle cell lymphoma (MCL). Considered incurable, MCL patients have an average life expectancy of five years.

 

At the time of my diagnosis, I was Stage IV. My bone marrow was a cancerous mush. I had so little oxygen in my bloodstream that without emergency transfusions a heart attack was inevitable.

 

The treatment began that day. After months of intensive inpatient chemo, I was emaciated and bald, but—against all odds—in remission. The bad news? To prevent a recurrence, I needed a stem cell transplant. I had to have a donor who was a genetic match.

 

Read More: How a Chance Phone Call Saved Her Life | Guideposts