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MIRACLES ARE NOT JUST FOR THE OLD TESTAMENT

By Jim Mortellaro, PhD.

In 1993 Rosie was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. She had it nearly all her life but it was just not something which exhibited in such a way as to require the services of a physician. Occasional inability to void. Occasional tingling in the extremities. But nothing which would tell yourself to "Go to the doctor, this may be serious!" You go along for 48 years with nothing but such which disturbs in some minor way. As if it were a mere silly inconvenience and nothing more. Nothing worse. Then, something happens to change the picture. Her immune system went crazy.

I won't spend the time here to explain, suffice to say that she became ill for about five years before being diagnosed with the disease. Which is somewhat normal, because the symptoms if Multiple Sclerosis are not always neurological. Sometimes they are definitely immune system oriented. "Multiple Sclerosis" said the ER physician. From then on it was all uphill. That was 1993.

In 1997 Rosemarie was required to have very major surgery. The nature of the surgery is personal, but the preparation for the surgery necessitated long treatments with IV antibiotics. After the surgery, the same was done. When you have strong antibiotic therapy, and especially when the antibiotics are broad spectrum, the flora in your intestines is destroyed. All that good bacteria is killed. What's left is very strong bad bacterium. Clostridium Difficile, they call it. Clostridium is the name of the bug. Difficile is French for "Difficult" and difficult it is. Terribly difficult to get rid of.

Meanwhile, back in time a few weeks. The Marist Brothers, on whose board of development I served, had invited me to Rome to help them celebrate the canonization of their founder, Father Marcelain Champagnat. Father Champagnat had been a fixture on the walls of my memory since the fourth grade, when I started school at Mount St. Michael Academy. By the time I had reached about the sixth grade, Father Champagnat had made it to "Blessed." And there he remained in the eyes of the Catholic hierarchy for nearly half a century. "Blessed" is one step away from Sainthood. And the process is long, and very intensely researched, verified and then, done all over again. No mistakes. Not since Saint Christopher. (Sorry, couldn't resist)

I grew up to admire the Brothers and their founder, for bringing to me a level of manhood that, without their tutelage, I likely would have missed. And so, with great sadness, I told the Brothers that I had to refuse their offer to go to Rome. The reason I gave was the my wife was at the time, quite ill with a disease called Clostridium Difficile. And even if she were well, I would never go away and leave her. In fact, I began semiretirement when she was diagnosed, in order to be with her. And I will not leave her alone. Never.

This illness (C-Diff) is usually treated with strong, focused antibiotics which target the offending bug and leave the good bugs alone. It didn't work. Not at all. In desperation and after several more hospitalizations, they decided to use the magic bullet, a serious and definitely expensive antibiotic called ... Vancomycin. It didn't work either. At about a dozen dollars a pill, with about four to six of them a day and for more than SIX months, the disease continued. When on the pill, the symptoms were minimal. When off, the symptoms were intolerable.

What happens is the bacterium's toxins poison the victim to death through the intestinal tract. Things were not going well. Not at all. That magic bullet was not working. And there was the terrible danger of serious damage to the intestines as a result of the infection, not to mention that most serious of all possibilities ... death.

I was sitting at my desk on the very day that Father Champagnat was canonized. It was a Sunday in April. April 18, 1998. A day after my own birthday. I remember telling the Brothers that hell, why not make the date on my birthday, in jest of course. Anyway there I was when I suddenly had the thought, What what a wonderful thing it must be for the spirit of Champagnat to be so honored in this way. I mean, there he was up there wherever Saints are, seeing what was going on, and in spite of being a spiritual being, there must be some feeling of emotion elicited by such as honorarium." The thought remained for a while when suddenly ... I felt a tingling in my extremities. Not unlike ones' hair standing on end. Only it was much more intense and not unpleasant. In fact, as the sensation continued it spread to my entire body.

I was filled with a feeling of intense electrical energy but it was a positive feeling. Highly unusual, I've never felt that before and never again, since. In a mere matter of moments my entire body was tingling but the word "tingling" does not truly represent the feeling. Nothing I know of may describe it sufficiently. I was vibrating with some sort of energy which was making me so happy, that the feeling was intolerable for a mere human to endure. I was so happy, so (I am sorry I must use this word) enraptured with pure joy, that I had to weep uncontrollably in order to tolerate the joy. Does that make sense? Likely as not. But, it's truth. Notwithstanding all of that, I was not in pain or any discomfort.

This intensity of electric sensation was exceedingly strong, and when combined with this unearthly feeling of joy, I became aware of a presence. I had no idea who or what the presence was, but I know as surely as I am sitting here at this computer keyboard, that there was with me at that moment, a presence. I began to weep uncontrollably but not with fear or discomfort, rather, with such great joy as any man can attain in this earthly plane and still be in the body. It was ... otherworldly. The only way to describe it. When I told one of the Brothers, I said in jest, "It's the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on in my entire life." Woof! I assumed then, since this strange intensity of feeling, of joy and of a presence, began when I thought of Father Champangat, that it must have been he. The feelings lasted for a long time, seemingly.

Not long after this episode, Rosemarie was scheduled for a colonoscopy in order to determine how much damage had been done by the C-Diff bacterium toxins. She was prepped, entered hospital and had the test. Twenty-four hours prior to the test, there was to be no eating or drinking. She was to cease the Vancomycin at midnight the day before. Now for a short lesson in bacteriology. The C-Diff bacterium had been sampled twenty-four hours prior to the colonoscopy procedure. Rosie had been found to harbor zillions of them in her intestinal tract by the count in the stool samples as well as the toxin report. C-Diff in spades, even with the magic bullet of Vancomycin. Twenty-four hours before, she had been shown to be infected badly. At the time of the colonoscopy I was in the waiting room, saying my Rosary. I think I might have worn that set out by now. I was sitting there when the feeling again came over me that I had experienced before. Only this time it was tame by comparison. I just felt ... calm, relaxed and at peace. Minutes before, I was pacing with my Rosary and very frightened.

The doctor came out and said, "Well, so far so good. No damage to the intestines. The colon looks clean. But funny thing, there is no inflammation. Nothing the indicate there is an infection. We'll wait for the lab analysis. I've requested a report stat. Still, it'll take about 48 hours to grow the cultures." Two days later the gastroenterologist calls us. "How's Rosemarie, Dr. Mortellaro?" "Uh, something is very strange. She's fine. I mean, she's stopped the Vanco but there are no symptoms of C-Diff. What were your findings?" "Nothing. Not a thing. Not one bug. NOT ONE CELL grew in the culture. No sign of any toxins. This is either a complete error by the lab or it's a miracle. These bugs just don't disappear by themselves. Not instantaneously! I mean there are literally gazillions of 'em. But if she's OK without the Vanco ... uh ... bring her in." We brought her in. And to the internist. And to the hospital for samples for a month. There was not one single bio-organism in the lot. No pain. No fever or other symptoms. She was cured.

Our internist told us that while he did not believe in miracles, he did believe in spontaneous remissions, but not from a hard to kill bacterium like C-Diff. He said that they just did not know what happened. Because what happened should not have happened. In fact, COULD not have happened. Cheeses, Mud and Gooey Gopher guts, that many bacterium, that much toxin, CANNOT disappear. It's against the freaking rules! The case is documented at Northern Westchester Hospital and the Katonah Medical Group, PC. To this day, Rosemarie has not suffered. Not from C-Diff.

That day, when I sensed the presence, was as real and Gripple Dripple and Seven Crown with a twist, folks. I know real from my own half baked emotions. I was feeling fine that evening. Wasn't depressed. Hey, I was worried about my wife, but not to the extent that I was imagining things. Quite the opposite that day. But when the sensations came over me, there was one thing which remained. That presence. It spoke volumes. It told me that there was no reason to believe at any time, that we are alone. That sometimes, miracles do happen. And when they do, they happen for a reason. We are here for a reason. And I've been informed in no uncertain terms, that there is a much greater presence beyond this insanity. Take heart. We are but children. Someday we will mature (if we don't blow ourselves off this ball of dirt first). We are learning here. Unfortunately, this is no playground. Learning for us is not fun. And when you are a knucklehead like me, you need special attention. A wake up call. "Hey, stupid! Wake up. And learn that there are miracles. And where there are miracles, there are entities which cause them to be. Deal with it."

 Since that day, that Sunday, April 18, 1998, I've been a changed man. Not changed enough, but hell, I've been a knucklehead for 58 years, gimme a break. Stuff like this takes time. But I am grateful to the God what made me be, that I've learned a lesson. I am here to take care of my wife and parents. Used to be a time when I prayed so hard for God to send me someone to share my life. Now, I pray that God let's me live longer than my wife and parents. Because NO ONE should be alone in this world. At least I know that "alone" is not necessarily a truth. Just a bad rap. God blessed us with life. Live it.