King's Daughter's Kitchen

I taught first grade in the 90s and got mononucleosis, which the doctors told me had turned to leukemia. My white blood cell count was incredibly high. My spleen stayed enlarged, and I took meds by the fist fulls trying to get well. With no improvement in my cell count after eight months, my doctor sent me away to a specialist. The new doctor did a bone marrow biopsy. Then, he advised me to write a will and say my goodbyes. My kids were ages eight and two. How do you say goodbye forever to a child?

I returned to my neighborhood hospital to start pain meds and treatment. A few more weeks passed. A surgeon removed my spleen, which was folded over behind itself, was housing a tumor, and had what looked like fried egg edges. He also took out my seven inch long appendix while he was there.

When I woke up, I saw angels in my room, bright, white-lighted, beautiful, comforting, protecting angels. The doctor told my husband that I was crazy and put me on antidepressant medication. I should have stayed in the hospital and died. I have extra lymph nodes all along both sides of my face that were full of infection. All my blood counts went back to normal. I went home in six days. I still see angels. I see the handiwork of my Jesus everywhere. I am not crazy. The surgery is the most expensive thing I have ever bought. If I had the money, I would pay again to hear the doctor say he “can’t explain this bloodwork,” and he’s “never seen anything like it.”