My Spirit-filled Walk Through the Valley of Cancer

By Calvin McGee

Calvin W. McGee, JD is a pastor, husband, and father. He retraces his awesome spiritual odyssey from a diagnosis that he would die of cancer in six months to the medical determination, two years later, that cancer was cured. The author's clear vivid narrative allows the reader to viscerally experience the: signs and wonders, words of knowledge, and anointed dreams, miracles and more which bestowed healing upon this ordinary servant preacher. The author describes how he continually invited God's presence through: meditation, prayers of petition, and spirit helped prayers. He describes the favor he found through songs of adoration and praise in tongues. The author presents evidence worthy of a legal brief, demonstrating that that the favor he found is available to all who know Jesus as Lord, no matter what they may be going through. While giving due consideration to the seminal theological works of the ages, the pastor outlines his beliefs by referencing warmly remembered events in his life such as receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit as a nine-year-old boy who had climbed up into a chinaberry tree to pray. His constant companion during this journey was his wife, Carol. The intimacy and love between the two serve as a testimony to the inspiring and healing effect that God intended to emanate from the holy institution of marriage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098021139

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My Spirit-filled Walk Through the Valley of Cancer

Calvin W. McGee

Copyright © 2020 by Calvin W. McGee

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Not Forsaken

Faith, My Funnel of Power

A Fresh Anointing

Our Admission Day

Biblical Meditation: The Shadow of Death

Praise

Transplant Day

Anointed Dreams

The Sign of the Light

The Dove Returned

My Counselor and Comforter

Walking in Faith While Standing in Hope and Trusting in God

Sanctifying Myself for Tomorrow’s Blessing

Little Moments

Dedicated too

My wife Carol, my son Calvin W. Mcgee II, and Dr. Michael Carroll

Chapter 1

Not Forsaken

We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.

—2 Corinthians 4:8–9

I awoke from a pleasant daydream to what appeared to be a nightmarish reality. As I returned to a present state of mind, I realized that I was in bed in room 4316 in Sutter General Hospital, Sacramento. It was the fourth day of a scheduled thirty-day hospitalization for a bone marrow transplantation. l was being treated for myelodysplastic syndrome, a fatal form of cancer.

Moments before, a scene on the wall-mounted hospital television set had featured mid-twentieth-century film star, Joan Blackman, cruising down a levy highway, Hawaii Route 61. It stretches along the southeastern coast of the island of Oahu. She drove a little red MG Roadster. Elvis Presley sat in the passenger seat. Foamy white surf glided atop deep-blue Pacific waters and cascaded onto the sandy beach which abutted the levy. Elvis was flirting with Joan, crooning a tune into her ear. The scene became pale and imperceptibly faded from focus. It had triggered a daydream that drew me away to the romantic Hawaiian retreat where my soul mate and I had enjoyed our honeymoon.

My wife, Carol, was ever-present with me for the duration of my hospital stay. She and I had been sort of half watching the 1961 beach movie classic, Blue Hawaii. The attention of my mind had gradually shifted from the movie to my decades-old memories of our honeymoon. Carol and I had been married five years before our honeymoon. At the time of our marriage, I worked a graveyard shift as a janitor, and we both attended college during the day. I even took a midterm the day we were married.

Upon graduation, we settled into careers, started a family, and bought a home. We had both always wanted a honeymoon. However, we never figured that our finances were sufficient to afford the kind of entrancing upscale destination that we both really desired. I had just been promoted to the classification staff services manager, the first level of administrative management in California state government. Carol, also with the state, was progressing nicely in an accounting and budgeting career. So we could finally afford our long-delayed dedicated time of intimate cherishing.

We chose the luxury resort hotel, then called The Dell Webb’s Kuilima located in the Kuilima Cove on the north shore of the island Oahu in Hawaii. It boasted five miles of warm sandy beach, snorkeling, and a beautiful coral reef. In the soothing daydream, we were there again. I was still marginally aware of the images of Elvis and Joan on the TV screen and the mid-tempo romantic anthems of the movie’s soundtrack. Regardless due to my daydream, Carol and I were in the Kuilima Cove. The contemporaneous version of us, not the kids from all those years before. We were walking, snorkeling, taking in that warm sunshine, and simply loving each other. I was quoting to her from the Song of Solomon 4: Your lips, O my spouse, drip as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under your tongue; and the fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.

When the here and now rudely reclaimed the attention of my mind, the present did have one thing in common with the daydream, the love of my life, Carol, was by my side in both. In the daydream, we played on a beach, and in the hospital room, we prayed at my bedside. In both places, the almost visible aura of Jesus circumscribed us. We’d both been baptized in the Holy Spirit¹ at a young age. The aura of Jesus has covered us as a composite unity² since day one when I was seventeen. We held hands and committed ourselves to each other as we walked across the campus of Sacramento City College.

As I stirred from my sleepless slumber, my refocused conscious mind affirmed that my Lord and my lady—the two who had never forsaken me—were indeed with me now. Shortly before I was admitted to the hospital, a friend had called me. Never schooled in diplomacy, he empathetically asked me, You are not dying, or nothing are you?

I answered, Yes, but not anytime soon.

So the doctor said it’s not terminal? he inquired.

No, I answered. God did.

My friend said, I hear you!

I knew what I was asking God to do, and I had every expectation that He would do it. Even beyond that, I’d received a fresh anointing³ just days prior to being hospitalized through which I received assurance of my healing.

For a moment, perhaps three to five seconds in real time after the daydream dissipated, I became radiant with the joy of the Lord. The still small voice⁴ of the Holy Spirit during that moment gave me a divine illumination by whispering a word of knowledge to me. The Lord pressed upon me that the reality to which my focus had returned far from being a nightmare was rather a place to be thankful. I was saved and filled with the Holy Ghost, and I had my best friend by my side. I thanked Him for speaking to me in this way. I vowed that for the span of my walk through this valley of my life called cancer, I would no longer allow myself to daydream. Daydreaming that is done in a positive God-affirming way (as with the honeymoon fantasy) is an effective and fun-filled escape.

Empirical studies⁵ have shown that daydreams like the one I experienced are normal and healthy escapes from stress. However, I now realized that there was so much wonderous adventure, healing grace, and joy in my Spirit-filled reality that I did not need to escape. I determined that thereafter, I’d use the resources available to a Spirit-filled believer to embrace my reality—cancer and all. I would replace daydreaming with meditating. I would replace my apprehension about my situation with praise within my situation. I’d never lost my praise, but now I vowed to dwell in that praise. After all, my praise is where Jesus abides.

My eyes turned toward my beautiful wife. Her coal-black hair framed the soft features of her caramel-hued face. Her sparkly brown eyes and tender smile were awe-inspiring. Just as I open my mouth to call out to her, a voice surged through the room.

Mr. McGee, the young, always cheerful medical assistant called.

Yes, I responded.

I have good news, she said.

Oh, what is it? Surely ready for good news, my curiosity filled my words.

She said, I know your bed is lumpy and uncomfortable, and an almost new one has just become available. I can have it ready for yah in a jiffy.

I recalled that only a short time earlier, I had heard a man’s crying prayer in the room next door. It sounded like the man was beseeching the Lord to receive his mother’s soul, for if there had ever been a woman full of love and faith. He’d bellowed. It had been his dear sweet mom!

The woman next door just died, didn’t she? It’s her bed, isn’t it? I asked the medical assistant.

The young lady took a long pause. I don’t think she knew how she wanted to answer me because I don’t think hospital staff are supposed to answer questions about other patients.

Yes, sir, she eventually replied. She did die in it.

Then no, I don’t want it, but I thank you though for thinking about me.

No problem, she said as she turned and walked out of the room.

I said to Carol, This bed is lumpy. It is saggy in the middle, and I am uncomfortable in it. Nevertheless, it is a bed of life where Jesus is sketching out a victory over this cancer. I cannot have this wonderful spiritual process of deliverance weighed down death bed thoughts.

She responded, In a bed where someone just died? I wouldn’t have taken it either.

It was about time for our daily walk to a sunroom which overlooks Sutter’s Fort. Sutter General Hospital in Sacramento is located across the street from Sutter’s Fort, which is situated in midtown Sacramento. The history of the region chronicles how the fort served as the wellspring for the growing community which became the capital city of the state of California.

For the past couple of days, Carol and I had walked together down the corridor, which ran past room 4316. This was in response to the advice of the physical therapist. Carol was going to have to be away for a while the following day, so the therapist would accompany on my next walk. For the hallway walks, I wore pajama bottoms and a hospital gown. I was never without the drip, drip, drip of an IV bag releasing medicine into my veins during my hospital stay. When the IV pole was unplugged, it would operate on batteries for a couple of hours. So as I walked pushing the pole in front of me, my IV was not interrupted. While walking, I quoted verses from the Song of Ascension under my breath. I had just made a vow to dwell in praise. These walks were a perfect time for that. Psalm 120–134 are designated collectively as the Song of Ascents or Pilgrim Psalms. Bible Psalms are songs. They were sung by people in their homes and by choirs in the temple in Jerusalem. Many people from all parts of the Holy Land made pilgrimages up to the holy city each year to commemorate and celebrate annual feasts. This was especially true during the Passover in the springtime and the Feast of Tabernacles in the fall. This group of fifteen Psalms were sung as the pilgrims walked up toward Jerusalem, which sits on a hill called Zion. So on the first day of doing this practice, I recited Psalm 120, which begins, In my distress I cried to the LORD, and He heard me. I recited the Psalm softly under my breath as we walked. The Psalm is a praise. It was my personal truth. I had indeed cried out to the Lord, and He had compassionately heard me. At the end of the corridor, we made a left turn and then continued about eight feet to the door of the sunroom.

I found the glass-walled room to be the ideal destination for these walks. Local schools scheduled field trips to the fort. Each day, when we reached the room and its relaxing quietness, I looked across the moderately busy street below to view the fort. It was September, so the deciduous valley oak trees, which lined L Street below and graced the grassy knoll just outside the walls of the fort were in full color. I peered between the spikey edges of their yellowish leaves into the lively courtyard beyond. I gazed with effervescent pleasure at the children, teachers, and costume-wearing adults. The adults wore nineteenth-century blacksmith, baker, and candlemaker costumes. They all mingled about the courtyard of the fort. I joyously absorbed the zest for life exuded by these children. Satan had tried to impart thoughts of death to my mind. This being exemplified by the bed freshly associated with death that was offered to me. Jesus in the meantime used this rich vibrant scene to quicken my spirit with the buoyant rhythms of life. The first time that I stood in that spot observing these lively people, I offered a quiet prayer of praise and thanksgiving.

Dear Lord, I’ve come to this hospital to seek the defeat of my enemy, cancer. You have prepared this table of spiritual food for me in the very presence of that enemy. I see smiles. I hear laughter. I see the impetuous curiosity of youth. I see the flamboyant manifestation in mature adults of the motivation to nourish and teach the next generation. All of it is spiritual food for me! I feel the sap of life flowing through me, nourishing my body and soul. I know that by that flow of life, all vestiges of cancer will be vanquished from my body. I thank you Lord!

I had a form of cancer known as myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS). It is cancer of the bone marrow. MDS is generally caused when unknown factors disrupt the regulated and methodical manufacture of blood cells. Individuals affected with this deadly disease have immature and faulty blood cells that do not develop normally. As a result, they die when in the bone marrow. Several treatments exist for MDS. None of the treatments, with one exception cure the disease, but they extend life and make the patient more comfortable. Only a bone marrow transplant is known to be capable of curing this cancer. The MDS in my body was quite advanced. It was poised to evolved rapidly into acute myeloid leukemia (AML). This progression was so firmly expected that the condition was once referred to in medical circles as preleukemia.⁶ Such a progression would typically lead to death in a matter of weeks or months. In advanced cases such as mine, the comforting life-extending treatments are of little consequence. From a medical perspective, the practical choice is to either attempt the arduous approach of bone marrow transplantation or simply prepare the patient for death.

A bone marrow transplantation requires finding a matching donor. The donor’s tissue must match that of the patient. Matching is based upon the patient’s human leukocyte antigen (HLA) tissue type. Everyone has ten HLA genes, five from your mother and five from your father. Ten of ten HLA matches constitutes a perfect donor. Nine of ten HLA matches is generally acceptable. A sibling having the same mother and father maybe a perfect match. A biological child is a half match.

It is estimated that 130,000 patients need bone marrow transplants annually.