Medford mail tribune., July 28, 1963, Image 36

Ann O'Neill, victim of "incurable" Ulness, holds Mother Seton portrait.
Editor's Note: The first American-born person likely to be canonized
a saint by the Roman Catholic Church is Elizabeth Bayley Seton. Last
March the late pope, John XXIII, participated in ceremonies connected
with her beatification, the next-to-last ecclesiastical step toward saint
hood. Two miracles, thoroughly investigated, are required for beatifica
tion. Here, for the first time, is the personal account of one case which
the Holy See has accepted as a miracle.
WHEN our family doctor came into my room at St. Agnes
Hospital in Baltimore, I thought I sensed something
grave in his manner.
It couldn't have been about the baby I'd just delivered. It had been a
normal birth, and Mary Margaret, my third daughter, was fine.
"It's Ann Theresa," I said. "She does have leukemia, doesn't she?"
The doctor nodded. "I asked your husband not to tell you during your
labor. Ann has an acute case. She can go any time."
I stared at him. "I have faith in prayer. Ann will get well."
"Please don't build false hopes. I know of no case where the patient
has recovered for any length of time."
I prayed all that day, and it never occurred to me that God would not
answer me. Now that sounds presumptuous, and maybe it was. But I felt
Ann, my eldest, must have more of life than her four years, and I was
helpless except in insistent prayer. I didn't fully realize it then, but in
Ann's case everybody was helpless.
When my husband Bob visited me, we talked over Ann's illness. On the
previous Friday, Feb. 22, 1952, I had noticed Ann wasn't her usual play
ful, mischievous self. Her dark complexion had paled. She was running
a fever and ugly bluish splotches mottled her neck. That evening, Bob
took her to our family doctor, who was quick to advise a blood test. Ann's
blood count was 43, critically low. By Sunday, she was in St Agnes Hos
pital for a "checkup" they told me. The doctor called Bob, however, with
the "hopeless" diagnosis.
"There must be something we can do," Bob said. "I'll sell our house,
get night work . . ."
"All the. money in the world won't help Ann," the doctor said.
Bob refused to give up. Finally, the doctor said: "They are doing won
derful research at the University Hospital. Dr. Milton Sacks is world
famous for his work in leukemia. I'D see if he will take Ann."
Dr. Sacks visited Ann. He confirmed the diagnosis and said he was
willing to study her case. "There is no cure," he told Bob, "but perhaps we
can gain a remission for a few months. I must emphasize, however, that
our work is research and experimental in nature." Bob most thankfully
agreed to have Ann transferred to University Hospital.
In the hospital, Ann drifted in and out of consciousness. Her body
MY DAUGHTER f f f
MOTHER
SETON'S
MIRACLE
CHILD 1 1 1
seemed consumed in heat, and Bob and I began sponging her with alcohol
to relieve her. For five minutes we would bathe her, rest for five minutes,
then sponge again. Thursday night, Ann was restless. She would toss and
call out: "Mother!"
"I'm here, right here, Ann," I'd say, and she would become very still
for a while. But my labor pains were beginning, and I knew I must leave
her soon. I called my family to drive me to St Agnes, then I bathed Ann
for the last time. She called, "Mother!" and I pressed her hand. It was
hot and moist with perspiration.
"I'll be back soon," I promised. "You will get well, Ann. We'll see to it."
I will not forget putting Ann's hand beneath the twisted sheets and
walking out of that dim room.
It would be more than a week before I could return to Ann. In the
meantime, Bob told me she was receiving many blood transfusions and
coagulants; despite this, her blood cells kept breaking down. Neverthe
less, Bob kept my spirits up. "Some of the children under Dr. Sacks'
care have lived for two and a half years," he said.
"Ann will live a full life, if we pray," I said with certainty. As the
days passed, I was told that Ann was making fine progress. I went to
see her then, confident we had won. When I reached her bed, I gasped
in shock. I wasn't looking at my Ann, the sturdy little girl playing in
our yard only days before. Ann's face was puffed and chalky, and her
head shook in constant palsy. She looked at me through glazed eyes
half buried by swollen cheeks and said weakly:
"Don't let them hurt me anymore. Take me away."
I sat at her side. Her body was blue with bruises from transfusions
and injections. "We're trying to help you. You want to get well, don't
you?" But how can you explain all this to somebody so young?
With Enduring Faith, They Prayed Together
Bob and I were with Ann almost constantly the next month. When we
were not caring for her, we prayed together. I still refused to believe
my prayers would not be answered. God would not take our Ann.
About a month later. Dr. Sacks told us she was not responding, however,
and that we should take her home.
At home, something else happened. Raw blisters broke out on her body.
She writhed in her bed, even fighting our efforts to cleanse the sores. Now
she had chicken pox, though we did not learn this immediately. Dr. Sacks
said later it was one of the worst cases he had seen.
Helpless, Bob and I watched Ann's suffering mount It was Holy Week
now, and I found myself reflecting on our prayers for Ann. I have always
believed in prayer, and my prayers have always been answered not al
ways in the way I expected, not in miracles or bounteous gifts; yet every
petition to God has brought a reward. Sometimes it was an understand
ing of why I was not granted my wish; sometimes simply the reward of
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Family Wkl. July M, IMj