Conquering cancer and heart failure

Daddy came back from the dead

2008-07-18T00:33:36Z

God bless you.
My faith that God will completely heal me from brain cancer, prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure owes some of its support to my daddy, the late Rev. Anderson Douglas Banks, Sr.
In 1951, daddy, then 40, was driving through a rain storm from our hometown, Indianapolis, Ind., on U.S. highway 24, on his way to Nashville, Tenn., for a board meeting of the National Baptist Convention, USA, Incorp.
When he came across two women trying to push their bogged-down car out of roadside mud, just outside of Paducah, Ky., the Christian and gentleman in him refused to let him pass by on the other side. So he stopped and ran across the road to help.
Thanks to his 5-9, 230-pound frame, daddy succeeded in pushing the car sufficiently forward to gain traction and spin its tires out of the mud. The women went on their way. His good deed done, daddy says he then pushed his luck and tried to run back across the highway to his car. But the rain and an apparent bend in the road blinded him from seeing a pickup truck that hit him and propelled him some 25 feet through the air.
When daddy landed and would-be rescuers came to him, he lay unconscious on the ground, bleeding profusely from compound fractures of both legs. Unable to feel his pulse, the rescuers concluded he was dead and called an ambulance to take him to the nearest funeral home.
But during the slow trip to the mortuary, one of the ambulance attendants saw him move a finger, examined him, found a pulse and had the driver to turn on the siren and change his destination from the funeral home and speed to the nearest hospital.
After hours of emergency surgery and pints of blood transfusions, daddy's life was saved.
When the news of his accident reached home within hours, my mama, the late Sarah Loraine Sanders-Banks, announced its arrival with a ear-piercing scream that woke up her four sons and two daughters.
I awake to find her standing in the frame of our opened front door, looking up to the gray, rainy, early-morning sky, crying and praying in epileptic anguish.
"Your daddy's been in a bad accident and they don't think he'll live," mama said. "We all gotta pray."
We joined her in tears and prayers as my older sisters Maude Lee and Lue Kuicious hugged and consoled her.
Within a couple of days, daddy regained consciousness, but remained in critical condition. When his condition was stabilized and ungraded and he was transferred to Indianapolis, he says his chief doctor gave him a grave prognosis.
"You're lucky to be alive because you had been severely injured," the doctor said, "had lost a lot of blood and your heart had stopped beating temporarily. You'll live. But it will take a miracle for you to ever walk again. And if you do, it will be with the aid of crutches or a walking cane."
I was eight years old at the time and I remember the great jubilation when they brought daddy home and camped him in a hospital bed in the dinning room, so that he could better receive visitors. My mama and we children waited on him and bathed him in prayers around the clock. It was doing that time that I was called to preach at the age of nine.
Within six months of his return home, daddy recovered well enough to return to the pulpit at the Mt. Carmel Baptist church, where he was pastor. But he preached from a wheel chair with both his legs in casks. Members shouted for joy each time he preached.
A few months later, he preached, aided by crutches. Members shouted even more vociferously.
A few months later, daddy would shed his casks and preached with the aid of a walking cane. The shouting grew more madly with mama leading the joyful wrecking crew.
A few months later, daddy was able to stand flat-footed, preach with even more power and no tear glands of true believers could withstand seeing and hearing him without unleashing torrential praise.
Thereafter, for the remaining 20 years of his life, that miraculous recovery was the principal testimony that daddy used to close his sermons until he died from a stroke in 1974 at the age of 63.
That testimony was branded into the hearts, minds and souls of me and my siblings. Again, at the time of his convalescence, I was called to preach. Daddy and I then became a tag team, preaching and fighting the devil bare-handed, slaying satanic dragons and combing Mississippi cotton fields for sinners after daddy had lost his pastorage in Mississippi and moved his family back to Lyon, Miss., to live in the same house where I had been born with the aid of a midwife.
Life was hard at times in those days as daddy pastored four churches, that held services once a month. Plus, we sharecropped 15 acres of cotton for a couple of years to make ends meet. Daddy pastored the poor, who paid him with farm produce and game when they could not pay him money.
Mama died at the age of 42 from blood poisoning after unknowingly carrying a dead fetus, her 13th child, in her womb for a couple of weeks. Daddy greeted the news of her death by sitting on the steps of the front porch of our house (the church parsonage) in Lyon and unleashed a crying scream I'd never heard before, have never heard since and don't want to. Death had parted him from his loving wife of 23 years.
Mama never lived long enough to see one of her eight surviving children get married or have one of us to take her out, or invite her over, for dinner. To this very day, I cry when I recall how mama--an old-schooled housewife who could cook, iron, wash (with scrub board), sew, keep house, make the most beautiful quilts--lived so little and died so young.
After her funeral, her brothers and sisters wanted to parcel out her children because they didn't think a traveling preacher like daddy could do a good job of raising us. But daddy refused to break us up. He had promised mama that he would keep us all together.
"There's not a step child in the bunch," he'd often say.
In 1956, daddy left the Liberty Baptist Church in Lyon to become pastor of Antioch Baptist Church in Kansas City, Kansas. There, as liberated refugees from the Mississippi cotton fields and the ruthless racism of the South, my sisters and brothers and I found new hope and great opportunity to upgrade our lives north of the Mason-Dixon line.
But the testimony of how the Lord raised my daddy from the dead and healed him of crippling injuries, suffered while playing good Samaritan on a rain-drenched Kentucky highway, has remained, for me, an abiding anthem of my faith. And it is from that miracle that I draw confidence that the same God who delivered him will deliver me for all the world to see.
I'm ready to accept whatever God's final decision is. In the interim, I want Him to get glory out of my aches and pains, my losses and gains. I am a healing in progress. The brain cancer has been ruled benign. The prostate cancer, despite resultant incidents of painful and embarrassing incontinence, is being effectively treated with radioactive seeds. And my heart is strong enough to no longer warrant an emergency heart transplant.
God bless you!
Praise the Lord.
Hallelujah!
Thank you Jesus!

Best wishes from high school classmates

2008-07-11T02:49:44Z

God bless you.
Three months ago, when news of my newest health issues hit my former hometown of Kansas City, Kan., I got a lot of calls and get-well cards from former high school classmates, who have assured me ever since that they have been praying for God to heal me from my brain cancer, prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure. Indeed, God is doing just that.
But the closest I've ever been to a reunion of my Sumner High School graduating class of 1961 came last Sunday when 30 of my former classmates came to hear me preach at the Strangers Rest Baptist Church in KCK, where my brother, the Rev. Jimmie Lee Banks, is pastor.
My good friend, Joann Ferguson Kendall, with the help of Annette Williams, was kind enough to call a couple of days in advance and inform fellow classmates that I would be preaching. I was extremely surprised, pleased and encouraged to see so many faces that I had not seen in 47 years and that gathering reminded me of how blessed I am.
Class reunions help many of us to count and relish our blessings as we see how we and our classmates have handled the many challenges of life since graduation. Especially hardships. Perhaps, you, too, have been equally touched by such reunions.
You've never met them. But nobody could have had better high school classmates than I had in the likes of Joann, Jimmie Lee (who was so smart he skipped a grade to be in the same class I was), his wife the former Alice Yates, Annette, Shelby Johnson, Lemuel Norman, Beverly Fouse, Henry Briscoe, Lurie Horton, Robert Scroggins, Carolyn Officer-Cook, Wiletta Easley, Herman Love, Jackie Brown, Margaret McGilbray, Sam Fennell, Annette St. Jean, Margaret McCluney and so many more. Former underclassmen present Sunday included Dr. Bertram Caruthers, an highly accomplished dematologist, my wife Joyce and Betty Maddox.
Many of our classmates, as old folks used to say, died before time. We lost some in the Vietnam War and some from the Vietnam War after they came home with drug addictions and assorted other afflictions that proved terminal. Others died young from cancer, heart attacks, auto accidents, violent crimes and other accidents. Most of my classmates, who got married, suffered at least two divorces and have been single ever since. Bad marriages can be hard, but good, teachers.
I especially hate to see so many of our fine black women unable to find good husbands, who are willing to love them, work hard, respect them, help raise their children and preserve their marriages. Too many are looking for wives to be their meal tickets, second mothers or punching bags. So I agree wholeheartedly with the exhortations of Presidential candidate Barack Obama. It's the same thing I preach about again and again as I look out from the pulpit and see that women make up 85 percent of the congregations I preach to. They are the backbone of our churches and families. And that's the raw, ugly, but honest ,truth.

]]> "We were just glad to see you're still alive and doing well," Joann said. "Now we hope you'll fully

recover and be able to attend our 50th class reunion in 2011."

I assured her that if the Lord preserves me until then and they won't have to roll me in on a hospital

bed and in a critical illness, I promise to attend.

As a native of Lyon, Miss., who spent three years there attending an elementary school that had no

plumbing, no electricity, where one teacher taught five four grades in one room, where school was

scheduled not to conflict with the cotton-picking season and where our textbooks were the out-dated,

ragged publications that the white schools had thrown away, I saw first-hand the vicious lie in the

so-called "separate-but-equal" claim by southern white racists. School were racially separate but far,

far from being equal. And that was by design.

But when my mother, Mrs. Sarah Loraine Banks, died in 1954, and my father, the late Rev. A. D.

Banks got elected pastor of Antioch Baptist Church in KCK and moved us there in 1956, it was like

moving from a wilderness to a paradise in terms of improved opportunity and quality of life. I

was shocked to walk into Northeast Junior High School and find students taking for granted the

indoor plumbing, the electricity, the water fountains, the bathrooms with showers, the gym, the

cafeteria, the air conditioning, the beautiful classrooms and wonderful teachers.

Although I did not attend an integrated school until I enrolled at the University of Kansas, I was

blessed by the wealth of knowledge, experience and dedication of the all-black faculties at Northeast

and Sumner. I took advantage of every opportunity to excel and prevail at a student and as a boy

preacher in KCK. I started preaching at the age of nine. But as a 13-year-old preacher in KCK, I was

still a big attraction in the black churches there.

As a consistent honor society member, an athlete, singer, actor and leader, at Northeast and

Sumner, where I rose to student council president, I was considered one of the most likely to succeed.

My classmates looked up to me and have always admired me of my many accomplishments. I was the

president of all the YMCA's Hi-Y clubs in Wyandotte County and, as a senior, was elected the first

black boy governor of Kansas, when Kansas Hi-Ys took over the state house for an annual day of mock

rule.

At KU, I was president of the largest student organization on campus, the KU-Y, and I also

represented the national YMCA with a dozen other YMCA youth leaders from across America in the

1964 International Workshop Seminar that was held that summer in Omuta, Japan, Hong Kong, China,

and the Philippines capital of Manila. I also joined the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in the 1963

civil rights march on Washington, D.C.

After college, I was the first black reporter for the Kansas City Star before I joined the Navy as an

officer after graduating from the U.S. Naval Officer Candidate School in Newport, R.I.

So all that history and more came to play in my former high school classmates coming to hear me

preach last Sunday. I'm sure that most, if not all, came praying and believing that that would not be the

last time they would see me alive. But just in case, they wanted to make sure because so many of our

other classmates died much earlier though they were much younger and in much better health. Death

plays no favorites. Death is an equal-opportunity destroyer.

The subject of my sermon was "You've Got Mail." taken from that AOL greeting we hear when we

gotten from heaven. He is God's best love letter. I closed by identifying my ongoing healing as the

latest email that God is giving me and those who believe that He is still in the healing business. I got a

standing ovation and was greeted by heartening smiles and best wishes afterward.

God bless you.

40 years of marriage to my high school sweetheart

2008-06-29T11:26:27Z

God bless you.
Today (Monday, June 30), my wife, Joyce, and I celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary.
Those are shouting numbers that remind me how blessed I am to find a woman to put up with me that long.
They don't make too many marriages like ours anymore. So ours to truly extraordinary.
Right now, it's 6:28 a.m. Sunday (June 29) as I write this entry. Some 20 feet in back of me, Joyce, my beautiful, adorable, tender and sweet Kansas City honeybabysugarpie, is power-walking on our family-room treadmill as I await my turn in our fight against fat. Around 10 a.m., we leave for Mt. Pisgah Missionary Baptist Church in Chicago, where Pastor Joseph Jackson has invited me to preach and I shall preach about "The Inseparable Love of God."
While I first thank God for blessing me to have Joyce put up with me as my wife for 40 years, after she had been my girlfriend for seven, I second thank God for blessing me to be alive for this day.
Just three months ago, when I was diagnosed with end-staged congestive heart failure (requiring a heart transplant), brain cancer and prostate cancer, and my heart was so weak I could not walk 10 steps, eat a meal or wash my face without stopping to catch my breath, I was scared to death for my life.
Yes, that's right.
Me, Lacy J. Banks, the fiery preacher, the Mr. Tough Guy and brave sportswriter for the Chicago Sun-Times for 36 years--I was scared. I even doubted whether I could outlive this triple dose of doom to see today.
But by the healing grace and mercy of Almighty God, the prayers of His saints, the care of competent doctors like Dr. Allen Anderson, Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam, Dr. Glenn Gerber, Dr. Brian Moran, Dr. Jim Flaherty and, now, Dr. John Alverdy, the love and care, among others, of my wife, first and foremost, and the application of my faith and common sense, I am a very impressive "healing in progress."
Now, here you are, my loyal readers and faithful prayer partners--you have accepted my invitation, through this blog, to watch God work. Through your hundreds of emailed comments and through your more than 50,000 silents hits on my blog, making it one of the tops in this distinguished big-city newspaper, you let me know that there are still a lot of caring and sharing people in the world.
God bless you.
Before I give you a more detailed update on my health situation, I want to hand out a round of thanks.

]]> First, I want to thank God, my primary care physician, for the systematic and miraculous way in which

He ironically--check this out--has upgraded my recovery by downgrading my health.

When my heart had become so weak from years of high blood pressure, an enlarged left ventricle

and a defective mitral valve that I was hospitalized to undergo tests for a heart transplant, God

disqualified me from the waiting list by blessing me to be diagnosed with the cancers of my brain's

pituitary gland and of my prostate. Then, in order, He blessed the brain tumor to be benign and the

prostate tumors to be limited (two), early-staged, localized and conducive for effective treatment by the

minimal-invasive procedure of brachytherapy, or the implantation of radioactive seeds.

Second, I want to thank my family. It starts with Joyce, my loving primary caregiver. She

gives me a reason for wanting to live. Then, she helps make sure that I take my medicines, keep my

doctor's appointments, watch what I eat and watch how hard I work and exercise so that I don't do too

much too soon. Then, there are my daughters Nicole Chapman, Noelle Banks and Natasha Banks, who

strengthen me and help sustain me with their love and prayers. Next, there are my five

grandchildren--Laren, David, Timothy and Nina Chapman, and Caleb Banks. They also give me lots

to live for and they pray for me and with me.

Third, I want to thank God for blessing me to have a fruitful career at a first-class newspaper

like the Chicago Sun-Times, where I have had good bosses and great fellow journalists to work with for

36 years. A lot of other papers would not allow me to run this kind of blog, where I can praise God and

preach as I report the agonies and ecstasies of battling cancer and a bad heart.

Fourth, I want to thank you readers, you prayer partners, you well-wishers and you fellow Christians

for helping me to keep my mind stayed on Jesus and to inspire me with the feeling that countless

people are behind me. This past week, for example, WLS-TV news anchorwoman Cheryl Burton, sent me

a most heart-warming, hand-written get-well card.

Fifth, I want to thank all my doctors, who have been readily accessible as well as encouraging and

competent in their care.

Now, for a most encouraging praise report and health update.

Presently, my main concern now is not my bad heart, my brain cancer or my prostate cancer. Rather,

it is an abdominal hernia. Although, I had suspected I had one for years because of pains in the area of

my lower back, lower stomach and left groin area, it was first originally spotted in an echo ultra-sound of

my stomach on April 3 at theUniversity of Chicago Medical Center and then officially confirmed Friday at

the UCMC by Dr. John C. Alverdy, the institution's world renown professor of surgery and director of its

Center for the Surgical Treatment of Obesity.

The first doctor, a younger fellow and promising apprentice, could not find it. He examined me

diligently as he had me lie on my back. He even thought it might be an herniated disc in my back, another

suspicion that I have had.

But when the inimitable Dr. Alverdy came in, he crystalized chaos into cosmos. He gloved his

hands in blue plastic rubber, had me stand and drop my shorts. Then he raised his right index

finger for emphasis and used it to prove the crevice of my left groin until he found that evasive breach

and poked it until I echoed an agonizing, but joyful, "ouch!" because he had identified the problem.

Dr. Alverdy's staff now will set up a date within six weeks for what he says will be a

minimal-invasive, out-patient operation that afterward will require a six-week recovery.

Thursday, roughly 20 hours earlier, Dr. Anderson, my UCMC cardiologist, had examined my heart

and had given me a praise report to pass on to you. After his nurse Barbara had checked me in with a

blood pressure reading of 99 over 67, a pulse rate of 47, a temperature of 97.6 Farenheit and a weight of

231 (including my three-pound baggy britches), Dr. Anderson listened to my heart from various points

on my body as I coughed and then gave me his conclusion.

"I am really pleased and impressed with the wonderful way your heart is responding to the new

medicines I've prescribed," he said. "First, I was thinking I might have to add some. But after examining

you, I believe we can decrease some of the medicines you have been taking."

Friday, Dr. Anderson's nurse called and told me to eliminate two of the nine different medicines

I had been taking daily and also decreased the dosages of a couple of those I continue to take.

Excuse me, English teacher, but ain't God good?

God bless you.

I'm fighting to live while others are fighting to die

2008-06-25T03:42:31Z

God bless you.
Few things teach us the priceless value of life better than sickness and death.
Ever since doctors diagnosed me three months ago with suffering from life-threatening brain cancer, prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure, I have been greatly inspired to appreciate the fact I'm still alive and being healed while so many others are playing life cheap with murder and suicide.
It reminds me of that wise saying that, in substance, says it's a shame that youth is wasted on young people.
Life is good.
Love is good.
Why aren't young people loving more so that they can live longer and better?
Indeed, we older peopl were equally guilty in our youth. Misguided by poverty, ignorance, immaturity, gangs, guns, substance abuse or hopelessness, we also ignorantly wasted many opportunities and made bad decisions that set us back.
If we had known then what we know now ,and exercised that wisdom responsibly, we would have had more money, better health, better security and more to look forward to today.
So when I view my solo suffering against the backdrop of our society's seething savagery, it moves me to echo those ol' top-hit Marvin Gaye lyrics: "What's goin' on?....Makes me wanna holler....throw up my hands."

]]> Here I am fighting for my life while so many others are throwing their lives away or are violently

taking the lives of their fellowmen and women. This has been painfully illustrated on the Sun-Times'

recent riveting four-part series chronicling "59 hours of violence between April 18 and April 20" when 40

people were shot, seven fatally, in the Chicago area.

I love life because I love love and I want to live. My life is also predicated on my faith that Jesus

came that we might have life and that more abundantly. I see my doctors--Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam, Dr.

James Flaherty, Dr. Brian Moran, Dr. Allen Anderson, Dr. Jeffrey Trunsky, Dr. Kenneth Cline, Dr. Glenn

Gerber--as God's instruments toward abundant life. I go to them to do their best. Then I trust God for

the rest.

A primary ingredient of my "healing in progress' is the prayerful encouragement and

empowerment that I am receiving from readers, relatives, friends and fellow Christians. People I have

inspired through my writing and preaching now turn toward me to return the favor. And this kind

of synergy and communal energy represent America at its best. We caring people are the core of our

nation's greatest strength and hope.

While my health is not yet at its very best again, my sensitivity toward the suffering of others is

higher than it's ever been. If I were well, I might take that great health for granted. But my greatest

pains right now come from seeing others suffer greater loss and pain from storms, violence, more

serious disease, corporate greed, political corruption, environmental crimes and epidemic societal

ills.

My sickness and ongoing healing thus have put me in closer touch with suffering people and all

this is making a better preacher, a better husband, father, reporter and human being out of me.

God bless you.

This blog reaches a proud milestone

2008-06-17T23:33:58Z

God Bless you.
A milestone was reached today when Monica Giles and Fannie Oliver co-posted the 200th comment for this blogs.

It reads as follows:

"God bless you.
Helloooooooo Rev. Banks!

Greetings from Fannie Oliver and myself.
Loving and missing you! GOD IS GOOD AND STILL IN CHARGE!
Tell Joyce we said hello, and we will be praying for you and your family.

Love,
Monica"
Banks' response: Congratulations for posting the 200th comment on this blog. Also, thanks for your prayers and best wishes.

Some four weeks ago, My 100th comment came from a reader named John: It read:

LACY,

i HAVE ALWAYS ENJOYED YOUR WRITING AND MY WIFE AND I ARE BOTH ACTIVE PARTIPANTS AT THE CANCER WELLNESS
CENTER IN NORTHBROOK.IN OUR SPIRITUAL SUPPORT GROUP WE ARE VIEWING OPRAH'S INTERVIEW WITH ECKHARDT TOLLE AND READING HIS NEW BOOK..A NEW EARTH. PERSONALLY I FIND IT EXTREMELY HELPFUL TO ME. I WISH
YOU WELL."

My very first entry came from my youngest daughter Natasha. She submitted it as soon as she heard I was blogging and really didn't know she woud be the first. Here was her entry:

"I am very excited about the blog. This will be groundbreaking. I love you and await for God's healing."

]]> Since I started this blog on May 5, informing readers that I had been diagnosed with brain cancer,

end-stage congestive heart failure and prostate cancer, and inviting readers to join me in watching God

heal me, I have filed 17 entries. This is the 18th.

The first 17 entries thus averaged 11.7 comments apiece, which, I am told is very, very impressive. I

am especially grately to regular repeat commenters like Natasha, Donna Pittman, Connie, Ig Murphy,

Beverly D. Rogers, Stan Ketcik, Elizabeth Lofton, Dec. Romia Woods, Dec. Erwin Dabley and Sister Carroll

Lewis-Morris. Among the churches represented by my commenting readers are Cathedral of Joy

(Homewood), Liberty Baptist Church (Chicago), Fellowship Baptist Church (Chicago), Mt. Pisgah Baptist

(Chicago), New Faith Baptist Church (Matteson), New Covenant Baptist Chuch (Chicago), Morning Star

Baptist Church (Chicago), Trinity United Church of Christ (Chicago), Cosmopolitan Community Church

(Chicago), Community Covenant Church (Chicago), True Vine of Holiness MBC (Chicago), 1st Baptist

Church (Melrose Park), Second Baptist Church (Wheaton), Strangers Rest Baptist Church (Kansas City,

Kan.), Alpha Temple Baptist Church (Chicago) and Christian Temple Baptist Church (Chicago).

An overall double-digit average exceeds the number of comments averaged by other better

established and more notable blogs associated with more popular subjects like the Bears, Bulls,

Blackhawks, Cubs, Rush and Fire.

What this means is that your readers are interested in real, live, human issues. It also means that

your compassions and your prayerful support cuts across racial lines, economic, social, political,

educational and economic lines.

And with the so-called "virtual reality" shows getting a lot of play, I am one of the real virtual reality

shows presently being played in the media. My suffering and the threats on my life are real. My pains are

real. The slew of medicines I take daily are real. The very serious, even critically sick condition I was in

seven weeks ago were real. The X-rays taken of my brain, my heart and my prostate revealed diseases

clinically documented by some of the finest doctors and most outstanding labs in the world.

We serious sick patients fighting everybody to live and to gain complete recovery, we are the real

virtual reality shows that people can be encouraged by. Especially me because I am a healing in progress.

And what about you, my dear readers?

Are there any more of your readers who have ever been healed of something or have seen

somebody else get heals, email me a comment on that. God is still in the healing business and I'm not the

ony one being healed. And the least you can do to show your gratitude to God is to testify in in public

through this blog, which is being read by thousands of readers every day.

Give God some glory and some praise and email a comment back to me telling me how the Lord

either has healed you, is healing you or will heal you.

As for my progress, so far, my brain cancer had been ruled benign, my prostate cancer is in

remission from radioactive seeds transplantation and I am scheduled to meet soon with my cardiologists

Dr. Allen Anderson of the University of Chicago Medical Center and Dr Jim Flaherty of the Northwestern

Medical Faculty Foundation to determine the next treatment or operation to address my serious

congestive heart failure condition.

God bless you.

Attended NBA Finals just in case

2008-06-16T11:38:46Z

God bless you.
Attending Game 5 of the NBA Finals Sunday night in Los Angeles was a relative paradise because it was like old times without having to work and sweat deadlines and it was enjoyed, for the first time, with my wife Joyce as we were special guests of the NBA and the Lakers, who won 103-98 and now trail 3-2 in the best-of-seven series which returns to Boston for sixth and, if necessary, seventh game.
My wife accompanied me for two reasons. First, she's very sensitive about my health issues and wanted to be by my side, instead of 1,735 miles away, in case something went wrong. Second, she loves California, especially Los Angeles, where we have enjoyed some of our best vacations..
We got the star treatment that started with fifth-row seats behind courtside. This enabled my wife to gleefully see the stellar likes of Jack Nicholson, Denzel Washington, Sean (formerly alias "Puff Daddy") Combs, Damon Wayans and others. But the real thrills came from my fellow veteran journalists like John Jackson, Sam Smith, Michael Wilbon, Bill Walton, David Aldridge, Stephen A. Smith, Howard Beck, Marc Spears, Ailene Voisin, Helene Elliott, Ric Bucher, Brad Townsend and others who greeted me with smiling hugs as I introduced them to my wife.
"It's nice to see people still remember a dinosaur like me," I said.
"You're no dinosaur," Aldridge said to my ego's delight. "You're an icon."
In April, when doctors gave me the dire diagnosis that I had brain cancer, prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure, I started making a list of things I definitely wanted to do with my wife just in case I didn't survive the summer. They included a trip to one NBA Finals, which I had covered exclusively for some 27 years for the Sun-Times, a trip back home to Kansas City so that I could take my wife to see her aging mother, and the celebration of our 40th wedding anniversary, which we already had planned last year to do in Hawaii.
"Oh don't worry," NBA veteran chief publicist Brian McIntyre told me. "You'll be seeing many more NBA Finals and we can always find you a ticket."
I am a pioneer in the diversity aspect of NBA newspaper coverage. I've not only covered the NBA for 40 years as an Ebony magazine sports editor and as a Sun-Times reporter, but the late Larry Whiteside, David Dupree and I were to the first black beat writers to cover the NBA for major American newspapers.
I also integrated the news staffs of the Kansas City Star, the Indianapolis Star and the Indianapolis News before the become the first black to work fulltime for the Sun-Times as a sports columnist and reporter. Consequently, the National Association of Black Journalists have chosen to honor me in July by presently to me its first Larry Whiteside Award when it holds its annual convention here in Chicago.

]]> In my 35 years as a Sun-Times sports reporters, I have covered more championships on my beats

than any other staff beat writer. While I covered them, the Bulls won six NBA championships, the

Sting won two North American Soccer League titles, the Rush one Arena Football League crown and the

Wolves one American Hockey League crown. Teams I covered also won close to 30 division titles,

advanced to the playoffs some 50 times and won close to 400 playoff games.

I first started covering the Bulls in 1972 when Dick Motta was coach and the teams revolved around

stars like Bob Love, Chet Walker, Jerry Sloan, North Van Lier, Tom Boerwinkle, Bobby Weiss and

Clifford Ray. But my biggest honors came from covering the Bulls championship dynasty, where Michael

Jordan, Scottie Pippen and coach Phil Jackson led the Bulls to win six championships in eight years.

In their respective championship runs, Owner Lee Stern's Sting was powered by coach Willy Roy and

striker Karl-Heinz Granitza, part-owner Mike Ditka's Rush followed the leads of coach Mike Hohensee,

star receiver Bobby Sippio and quarterback Matt D'Orazio and owner Don Levin's Wolves revolved

around coach John Anderson, star goalscorers Jason Krog, Darren Haydar and Brett Sterling and goalie

Andrej Petrovic.

The Rush got off to a great start this season clinching its eighth straight playoff appearance,

its fourth Central Division title even tied briefly for the league's best record four weeks ago. It still

could rally to win its second championship in three years. But a plethora of injuries has sent the team

into a tailspin where iot has lost three of its last four games.

Here's praying that my healing results in me not only seeing and enjoying a meaningful

retirement with a couple of years, but also to enjoy seeing many other Chicago sports championships as

a healthy spectator.

God bless you.

A healing for variety of reasons

2008-06-11T16:10:24Z

God bless you.
I thank God for my healing in progress from the life-threatening brain cancer, end-stage congestive heart failure and prostate cancer.
But I want to make it clear that I don't want God healing me for nothing. No. First, I intend to pay Him back. Yes, I don't want to just get and not give. I will pay God back by praying, preaching and praising better than I ever have.
Actually, I'm already doing those things while I'm being healed. What better way for me to show my thanks than to promote God and His Kingdom by urging people to seek Him while He can be found and to call upon Him while He is near and give Him His deserved glory.
Second, I don't want Him to heal me for doing nothing, either. Understand? I don't want to be heal just to sit and chill and selfishly and privately wallow in the thrills and frills of the healing. No, I want to be healed to get back out and enjoy life to the fullest and help make life better for others.
I get this idea from a good friend, Stan Ketcik. It was so excellent that I decided to share it with the rest of you and I want each of you to share back with the rest of us.
There is healing power in setting future goals and wishes for yourself. They fuel the drive to survive and thrive.
Here was Stan's comment:

Dear Lacy,
Your journey of healing is inspirational!!! I have a suggestion. I think you should make a list
of interesting things that you would like to do for the next 15 to 20 years. The list would
consist of things you would like to do, places you would like to see, and goals that you woul
like to accomplish. I think that a list like that will help you on the road to recovery, and give you
a lot of specific things to look forward to on your road to healing. I look forward to seeing you
cover sports again, and reading your stories for many years to come. Have a phenomenal
day!!!
Stan Ketcik
************************

Banks' response: Great idea, Stan! I love you mannnn! Great idea! Why didn't I think of that before? That kind of mindset fuels the survival instinct. Incentives. Visions. Aspirations. Hope. Yes, Stan, yes. I feel good about this. Here are some of my key plans and wishes for the future:

1. Get totalIy healed of my cancers and bad heart so that I can see all my doctors
shake their heads, grin and say, "Well I'll be doggone!"
2. Give (along with my wife) our daughters Noelle and Natasha away in marriage

]]>
3. Go to Hong Kong again, especially for a Chinese New Year's celebration
4. See all my grandchildren get baptized graduate from college
5. Retire with my mortgage paid
6. Take my wife Joyce to Rome for once
7. Move my aging mother-in-law either in with us or into a cozy apartment in a safe
area.
8. Vacation in Vancouver
9. Get my weight back down to 200 pound without having sickness to do it
10. Live with Joyce in a retirement place where I don't have to worry about having
lawns cut and driveways shoveled and house painted, etc.
11. Help Barack Obama get elected President of the U.S.
12. See global warming reversed for my grandchildren's sake.
13. See world at peace
14. Help bring overpopulation under control
15. Tour China throughly
16. Pastor a good, small, strong Christian church
17, See my daughter Noelle and her son Caleb both get called to preach
18, Give my oldest daughter Nicole and her husband Larry a nice wedding
anniversary vacation.
19. Joyce and me celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.
20. See Natasha get married to an educated, hard-working, mature, Christian,
faithful man and give Joyce and me another grandchild.
21, Never ever have to bury any of my children or grandchildren.
22. See Amercan government protect the rights of the American laborers and
citizens first and foremost.
23. Help scientists find a cure for cancer, AIDS and other diseases presently
incurable.

So what are some of the things you would also like to do in the next 15 to 20 years?

God bless you

Healing train is picking up steam

2008-06-08T13:18:09Z

God bless you.
Early Sunday morning, I called my baby sister in Grand Rapids, Mich., Veruynca Williams, to get additional information about our departed oldest sibling, Mrs. Maude Lee Burrell, who lost her battle with end-stage congestive heart failure in 2001.
I got more than the information I sought. I got fervent supplication as she led me in a prayer so powerful that I wouldn't be surprised if it shook both the ceiling of hell and the basement of heaven. It certainly filled my soul with joy and boosted my faith to continue my successful healing from brain cancer, end-staged congestive heart failure and prostate cancer.
Roughly four months before Maude Lee died, I had undergone a triple-bypass at the University of Chicago Hospital to address a 50 percent blockage of my main left artery. I did that to hopefully position me to avoid the end-stage congestive heart failure that, with the aid of an infection, finally killed Maude Lee three months after she had spent six futile months at the Cleveland Clinic trying to qualify for a heart transplant.
Maude Lee was 65 when she died three months before her 66th birthday. I will be 65 in August. By the healing grace of God and with my faith, common sense and the help of competent doctors, I plan to fare better. I am a healing in progress not just for my personal benefit, but for the benefit of my family members and others who may need to be encouraged and enlightened in their battles against life-threatening health issues. People like you prayer partners are helping me achieve that.
I am happy to report that I continue to feel stronger, continue to respond exceptionally well to medication and this blessing is inspiring more and more people to prayerfully join me on this healing train.
On Wednesday, I power-walked three miles non-stop in 63 minutes on my treadmill and weighed 230 afterward. That's a magnum improvement since eight months ago, my weight had shamefully reached 253 pounds, and two months ago, I could not take 10 steps, wash my face, shower or eat a meal without stopping every 30 seconds to catch my breath.
Last week, I also covered a Rush arena football game, my first assignment in more than two months. This week, I plan to drop below 230 pounds for the first time in six years. And while radioactive seeds work to dissolve my prostate cancer and my heart continues to respond well to medication, rest and consistent low-grade exercise, I will ease my way back to work.
In three weeks, I am scheduled to undergo a stress test and other examinations to confirm progress in terms of my end-stage congestion heart failure to clear me to return to work full-time. By that time, I plan to have lowered my weight to a consistent 225 and have my heart strong enough where the need for a heart transplant will be significantly minimized at the least and eliminated at the most.

]]>

I wish you could have met Maude Lee. She was one of the most faithful, loving wives and mothers

you'll ever find. She loved her Jesus, her family, her church and friends with all her heart. Working

feverishly for years to support five sons and a disabled husband, my sister literally worked herself to

death. As such, she was a symbol of the great suffering and uncommon sacrifice that so many black

women have invested to preserve our black families in particular and our race in general. She simply

continued the proud tradition of our hard-working mother, who was outlived by each of her surviving

eight children by at least seven years and as many as 27 years and counting,

I was the first of my siblings to graduate from college. Two of my brothers, Rev. Jimmie Lee Banks

and Rev. Ephthallia Lucas Banks, both pastoring in Kansas City, Kan., not only followed me in graduating

from college, but did even better by receiving their Masters degrees in divinity. Jimmie excelled in the

corporate world, in community service and leadership, and last year he did our family proud when he

barely fell short in his political bid to become the first black mayor of Kansas City, Kan.

My oldest living sister, Luekicius Brown, became the first of our generation to reach age 70. Our

mother Sarah Loraine Banks, died a tragic death, at age of 43, from blood poisoning after carrying the

dead fetus of her 12th baby in her womb for at least a week. Our father, the Rev. A.D. Banks, Sr.,

died of a stroke at age 64, and our youngest sibling, Hansel Jordan Banks, died of a heart attack

at age 50. My older brother, Anderson Douglass Jr., A.K.A. Sonny, 68, is retired. Although a childhood

illness retarded Sonny mentally to where he was never able to read or write, he was perhaps the most

enterprising of our family, working tirelessly at assorted minimum-wage jobs. Jimmie saw to it that

Sonny got his social security and Medicare benefit to sustain him economically for the rest of his life.

On the whole, we have done well for a family that rose from Mississippi poverty. We were all raised

in the church and, with the exception of Veruynca and Hansel, born in Mississippi. My father baptised

each of us and my mother shouted each time one of her children joined church and got baptised.

Lue and her husband, Sylvester Brown, recently became the first of our family to celebrate their 50th

wedding anniversary in their Cincinnati home. Jimmie and his wife, Alice, have been married 43 years.

Maude Lee and her husband, N.L., were married for 45 years. My wife, Joyce, and I will celebrate our 40th

wedding anniversary June 30. We've been married far longer than any of her five siblings.

I share this information with you because this is part of who I am and I come into this healing

process drawing strength from my immediate family members and our collective experiences. They help

power my drive to thrive and survive. And although I have a family history of heart disease, my healing

will henceforth add to my family's heritage and provide positive direction for my relatives, friends and

even strangers to be encouraged to follow and fare even better than I will.

God bless you.

Never too late when Dr. Doctor Jesus is involved

2008-06-04T18:32:55Z

God bless you.
For this entry, I want to use a live medical emergency in progress, one that is squarely associated with my situation.
I am asking Donna Pittman, a fellow passenger on this "trust train", being engineered by Jesus as we ride the track of faith straight to His Healingville, to welcome aboard a sick aunt of her girlfriend. Let's all say "hello" to Auntie by praying "May the good Lord bless and heal you, Auntie, in Jesus' name. Amen."

Let's let Donna explain the situation.
"Bless You Rev.,
I am happy to hear that you have been out and about. I was speaking to my girlfriend on yesterday and she was talking about her Aunt who is suffering pancreatic cancer. She is undergoing treatment but she seems to have given up hope. This woman has always played a big part in her church and is a lead singer in the choir. But she has given up. She complains all of the time. She speaks as if she is in her last days. The doctors have not given her up but sometimes when she goes for her treatment they can't administer it because she is too weak. I know it is hard to stay encouraged when you are going through but part of our healing comes through our outlook. If we don't expect the best, we won't receive the best. Who is it who said 'much faith, much power, little faith, little power'? I believe that. Anyway, I told my girlfriend that I was going to send her the link to your blog. She needs to hear you speak on your situation. Perhaps it will encourage her. I know it has encouraged me. I continue to lift you and your family up in prayer. Talk to you soon!"

Well, I want to talk to her right now. But first, let me call headquarters: "Dear Heavenly Father, Lord, God Jehovah, creator of heaven and earth, please speak to this dear suffering handmaiden through me. Speak words of encouragement and enlightenment that will strength her faith and her body to receive Your healing. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen."

Auntie, the easiest thing to do and the first thing the devil and death want us to do is to give up hope when we get a grim diagnosis like the one you got, involving pancreatic cancer, and the ones I got, involving brain cancer, end-stage congestive heart failure and prostate cancer.
As a fellow veteran soldier in the army of the Lord, you know that our hope, first and foremost, is in Jesus, the hope of all glory. In fact, we have given that testimony in song many times:
"My hope is built on nothing less,
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly lean on Jesus' name

]]> On Christ the solid rock I stand

All other ground is sinking sand

All other ground is sinking sand"

Auntie, when we trust is Jesus, it's never, ever too late. Our greatest challenges after we pray for His

healing or His deliverance is to wait on Him and watch for Him. God does not always heal us instantly. I

believe that most of the times when He heals us of sicknesses before we know how sick we are, He does

so instantly. But we can't hurry God. We just have to wait. Just as His ways are not our ways, His thoughts

are not our thoughts. In other words, He may not always heal us when we want, the way we want, where

we want and how quickly we want.

But because you and I deal in time and Jesus deals in eternity, He's never out of time to heal us.

All the time that you and I ever get to live in this world is dispensed by Jesus off His spool of eternity.

Thus, when Dr. Jesus is the head of our medical staff, it's never too late and it's never impossible for

us to get healed.

The bible is filled with recorded incidents when it looked like it was too late for somebody to get

healed or saved.

When Jairus' daughter died while Jesus was on His way to her house, it looked like it

was too late. But when Jesus arrived, He ran all of the doubting weepers and wailers away, raised the

girl from the dead and had her family to give us something to eat because she was hungry. Death

never feeds its victims.

When the dead body of the son of a widow in Nain was being carried to the cemetery to be

buried, King Jesus went up to the boy's mama and in a manner most meek, mild and merciful, He

said, "Weep not." Then Jesus reached out and touched the casket of the dead son and said, "Young

man, I say unto thee, arise."

The righteous record reads saying, "He that was dead sat up and began to speak." No, no, Dear

Auntie, it's never too late for Jesus.

Still, on another occasion, Lazarus, who is said to have been Jesus' best buddy, took sick and as

his condition deteriorated, his sisters, Mary and Martha, sent word for Jesus to rush home to be

bedside with Lazarus to either heal him or to see him die.

But Jesus took His time coming because he knew that destiny had placed Lazarus on program to

die and then to be raised from the dead for the glory of God.

Indeed, Lazarus did not only die, but they had his funeral and they buried him in a stone-enclosed

tomb. Yes, it seemed to Mary and Martha and all others that it was too late for Lazarus to be saved.

By the time, Jesus reached Mary and Martha, Lazarus had been dead for four days. Rigor mortis had

already set in. The brain had been denied oxygen for four days. It seemed too late. Decomposition had

already started occurring and worms had already started eating the dead flesh. Yes, it seemed too late.

Too late for man? Yes. But too late for Jesus? No.

Mary and Martha cried something fierce because they felt that Jesus had let them down. How

could He have turned His back on His best friend, Lazarus? How could Jesus have caused Mary and

Martha so much sorrow and shame after all the good times they had had and the good dinners they

had cooked and served Him?

But our never-too-late Jesus simply told them, "Thy brother shall rise again."

Martha said, "Yes, we know he will rise in the resurrection at the last day."

Then Jesus set the record straight when He said, "I am the resurrection, and the life; he that

believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall He live."

Jesus then had them to take Him to the grave yard and then had them to remove the stone that

sealed the tomb despite their objections about the stench that would overwhelm them. But

apparently, they did not realize that for every stinky situation, Jesus can deoderize it with a floral

fragrance because he is both the Lilly of the Valley and the Rose of Sharon.

When they had removed the stone, Jesus prayed and then He said, "Lazarus, come forth."

Instantly, Jesus' voice revitalized, renovated, resuscitated and rejuvenated the dead body of Lazarus

back into a living soul. Sure, Lazarus again would eventually die again for good, as all recipients of

Jesus' miracles did. But this was not that day.

Auntie, I know that pancreatic cancer is one of the worst kinds of cancer to have. But Jesus is

the best doctor to handle it. And if your doctors haven't given up, you should not give up. Grab

back ahold to your hope and hold on to Jesus, hold on to God's unchanging hand. Hold on through

the pain and keep hoping for your healing. Fight the good fight. I pray that God eases your pain and

increases your faith, your peace and joy.

Dr. Clay Evans, founder and pastor emeritus of Fellowship Baptist Church, where I have been a

member for years, was diagnosed with that same pancreatic cancer in March of 2000. He went to the

best doctors he could find and they told him that he had only about six months to live unless he had

surgery. But I'm glad that Pastor Evans and the rest of us serve a never-too-late God. So Pastor Evans

underwent surgery.

Well, that was more than eight years ago when they gave him six months to live.

And guess who I just got off the phone talking and praying with?

Yes, Pastor Evans.

And this is what he has to say you: " Tell her, 'Honey, don't give up. Jesus is still in the healing

business. I'm still living and I'm still preaching. Not as much as I used to do because I'm 82 years old and

I'm still recovering from a stroke I had early this year. But I'm cancer-free , my mind and my speech are

clear and I'm not paralyzed in any way, shape or form. So don't give up. I'm a living witness that Jesus

is still able to heal and bless us with life more abundantly.'"

God bless you Auntie. And, Donna. please call me at 312-810-5027 and set something up where I

can go to Auntie in person, pray and have holy communion with her. For while God is healing me, I must

continue to work the works of Him that sent me while it is day. For the night cometh when no man can

work.

God bless you.

Easing back into action by God's grace

2008-06-03T22:42:30Z

God bless you.
Last Saturday night, I covered the Rush's electrifying 52-47 comeback win over the Kansas City Brigade. It was the first game I had covered in two months since being hospitalized and diagnosed with brain cancer, end-stage congestive heart failure and prostate cancer.
The fact that I got through the coverage successfully and did not suffer a heart attack with the way the Rush rallied back to score 17 unanswered points for the win is proof that God is healing me. My health continues to improve. Rush general manager Mike Polisky and I watched the last quarter of the game on the press room television. He had confidence all along that his team would tough it out. But most people may say that it was a game the Rush did not deserve to win.
My only difficulty was a couple of incidences of incontinence. But I fortunately was able to get to a restroom in time. Incontinence, an excruciating and often uncontrolable urge to urinate, is a popular side effect from prostate surgery. Dr. Brian Moran and others have warned me that the worse may be yet to come as the radioactive seeds increase their attacks on dissolving and dislodging the cancers that invaded my prostate.
Yes, our prayers are paying off. And I can't thank you prayer partners enough for joining me in this "healing in progress."
But what also impress me are the tons of people who have shone me love whenever I have gone out in public. At the Rush game, dozens of individual fans greeted me by name out of the blue as I moved through the arena traffic to and from the press box and press room.

]]>

While I am thankful to my medical dream team for providing me the knowledge I need to do my part in

making the best decisions in terms of treatment options, I thank God first and foremost because all

healing comes FROM God. Though it may come through doctors, through nursing care, through

medicines and through therapy, all healing comes FROM Jehovah, the God of healing.

I'm just hoping that people, who don't know Jesus as Saviour and are indecisive about God, would get

in touch with God as soon as possible so that when sickness and other adversities overcome us, they

will have the power of the universe at their disposal with withstand, endure and prevail.

I may sound like a broken record. But I can't thank God enough for each day, even each moment,

that I live now without experiencing an great pain or discomfort. I thank God for the way He is healing me

and is giving me more and more hope that the healing will be comprehensive and complete.

My healing has not happened all at once the way the healings are portrayed in the bible. He is

healing me gradually, day by day, as I regain more strength and an increasing sense of well being. So

what are the real challenges to me? They are for me to have faith and the patience to wait on the Lord.

The hardest part for so many of us when blessing time comes is to wait on the Lord when the blessing

doesn't come all at once.

Few weights are heavier than waiting. The devil likes to attack us while we are waiting. He attacks us

with doubt, with frustration, with anger, with fear, depression and, if he's lucky, death. But if we trust

and never doubt, God will surely bring us out. He will make our enemies our footstools. He will make

death shut up, get somewhere and sit down and keep his icy hands to himself. He will fight our battles

when we are out-manned and out-gunned.

God bless you today. But I also want to add an extra benediction to this entry. It's an old hymn that

the Lord has been placing on my soul, my heart and my tongue of late. I sing it in the morning. I sing it

at noonday and I sing before I go to bed. And sometimes I sing it in the midnight hour. Some of you

will recognize and feel the Spirit of the living as we recite the lyrics in song:

My faith looks us to thee

Thou lamb of calvary (tears are falling from my eyes right now)

Savior divine.

Now hear me while I pray.

Take all my guilt away.

Oh let me from this day

Be wholly Thine.

May Thy rich grace impart

Strength to my fainting heart

My zeal inspire

As Thou hast died for me

Oh may my love to thee

Pure, warm and changeless be

A healing fire

Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus!

Yes, God is real and still healing.

2008-05-29T14:06:59Z

God bless you.
Thank you readers, friends, strangers, relatives and Kingdom sisters and brothers.
Your prayers and best wishes are not in vain because day after day after day, I'm feeling God's healing coming on strong.
Truly, God is real. And because He's real, there is still healing in the holy hem of His son Jesus if we dare reach out and touch it with fingers of faith. Yes, there also is still some balm in yonder's Gilead. Check out these latest reasons why I know.
Tuesday, the first time I had exercised since undergoing May 21 radiation therapy for my prostate cancer, I walked 2.5 miles nonstop on my home treadmill in 55 minutes. One day later, I walked three miles nonstop in 61 minutes.
That's great news both for my prostate cancer and especially my end-stage congestive heart failure.
Thank you, Jesus!

]]>

Nine weeks ago, when I was admitted to the University of Chicago Hospital with what had been

diagnosed by a half dozen renown cardiologists as end-stage congestive heart failure, I could not walk

from the hospital entrance to the courtesy desk, just 10 yards from the elevator, without stopping to

catch my breath.

My wife Joyce, our middle daughter Noelle and grandson Caleb accompanied me. Noelle drove us

into town. But once inside the hospital, my wife Joyce had to wheelchair me through the meandering halls

some 200 yards to the room where I was to undergo a transesophageal echo cardiography of my

weakened heart because no way could I walk that distance alone without stopping every 10 paces to rest.

After two weeks of tests, cardiac surgeon Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam and his staff concluded that my

best chance for short-term survival was the implantation of a Heartmate XVE LVAS pumping machine and

my best chance for long-term survival was a heart transplant. Otherwise, I probably could expect to live

no longer than six to 12 months.

But on my way to a heart transplant, God allowed two roadblocks, brain cancer and prostate cancer,

to pop up and keep from getting on the transplant waiting list.

Excuse me English teachers, but ain't God good?

Having now been diagnosed with three potential killers, I had to turn up the dial of my faith in God

from simple to super. Then God's Spirit moved me to not just go super on believing in Him, but

super-sensational by telling the world that He is going to heal me from these deadly diseases.

Well, so far, is God healing or is God healing? Catch my drift?

Thank God for blessing the Sun-Times to be kind enough to allow me to put God and me on public

display to allow all y'all to watch God work.

My first breakthrough was the doctors' determination that the cancerous brain tumor, discovered by

an MRI at Northwestern Hospital, is benign.

( Let's pause here for station identification: You are watching a HEALING IN PROGRESS, brought to

you by the makers of such providential products as heaven and earth, time and eternity, life and death.

This program is intended for our viewing pleasure, our glorification of God and our increase in faith.

Any other reproduction of this program without the expressed written consent of God the Father,

the Son and God the Holy Ghost is hereby forbidden.)

The second breakthrough was the determination by UCMC urologist Dr. Glenn Gerber that my

prostate cancer was early-stage, localized and could be treated with radioactive seeds. Last Wednesday,

Dr. Brian Moran implanted 87 permanent radioactive seeds into my prostate while I was under general

anesthesia at his Chicago Prostate Cancer Center in Westmont. It was an out-patient procedure that

allowed Joyce to drive sore me home within three hours after it was performed.

So far, Dr. Moran says I have been responding exceptionally well to the brachytherapy and the

medications he prescribed, raising my daily intake to 19 pills. By next week, that total drops to 17.

After my next appointment with UCMC transplant cardiologist Dr. Allen Anderson, that total may drop

even more as I am gradually being weened off of medication.

Some of my friends like Rev. Samuel Hinkle and Dec. Erwin Dabley also underwent chemotherapy or

radiation beam treatment or both in addition to brachytherapy. Dr. Gerber and Dr. Moran say my

brachytherapy alone is sufficient treatment for my prostate cancer.

"Roughly 90% of my patients received seeds alone," Dr. Moran said. "In the case that there is locally

advanced disease, we would use a combination approach which may include external beam radiation

(IMRT) with or without hormonal therapy. There are many factors to consider including your PSA,

Gleason score, clinical stage, age, comorbid conditions, etc. I am confident that the best course of

treatment for you is the seed implant alone without additional therapy and anticipate excellent results."

Side effects from the brachytherapy have been minimal even through they are expected to

increase in the coming weeks. If and when they do, you'll be among the first to know.

Also on Wednesday, after getting off my three-mile treadmill walk, I weighed 231 pounds. That's

the closest I've been to 230 in years. My next stop is to drop south of 230 on my way to 200-210.

Stay tuned for the next installment of God's HEALING IN PROGRESS, starring Lacy J. Banks and a

cast of praying legions.

God bless you.

A healing in the midst of holy harvest

2008-05-25T04:40:16Z

God bless you.
This Memorial Day weekend is memorable for me not just because I am undergoing God's healings from brain cancer, prostate cancer and a bad heart, but because I am enjoying a holy harvest in my household.
On Friday morning, following my chest pains occuring two days after radiation treatment on my prostate, my daughter Noelle helped bring me profound relief with a powerful prayer.
This morning (Sunday, May 25), her six-year-old son Caleb is being what he calls "bapatised" at Rhema Word Kingdom Ministries in Riverdale.
My daughter's fervent prayer of faith and my grandson's baptism represent holy harvest for my wife Joyce and me. We were both raised in Christian families, we raised our three daughters to become born-again Christians and now we are enjoying the fruits of our prayers and labors by seeing our children and grandchildren receive God's salvation.
Godly stuff like this is added medicine to me. While my healing comes from God and is ignited primarily by my faith in Him, my faith and your faith are also fueled by those around us. So it pays, especially in times of adversity, to be in the company of fellow Christians who will touch and agree with you in prayer to God for the desires of your heart.

]]>

Singular prayer is invaluable, for the bible says men ought always to pray and not faint. In fact, pray

without ceasing. But there is also increased power in corporate prayer because Jesus said when as few

"as two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of

my Father which is in heaven."

My wife and I are blessed because, in times of need, we can turn to either of our three daughters--

Noelle, Natasha or Nicole-- and get a powerful, fervent and doctrinally sound prayer. As we have

ministered to our children in raising them up to become Christians, now they also minister to us.

Not only am I now getting good prayerful support from our daughters, but from three of our five

grandchildren--Caleb, nine-year-old David and 11-year-old Lauren. Even before he accepted Christ as

Lord and Saviour, Caleb would request and be granted the opportunity to help close out a Rhema Word

choir practice by leading everybody in prayer.

"And he does a real fine job of it, too," Noelle said. "It amazes everybody and it makes me happy."

Yes, I've also prayed with Caleb and have had him pray for me. So as I pray for my total healing, it's

not a solo effort. It's an immediate family affair and it's also an extended Kingdom affair as our friends

and Christian sisters and brothers from around the world are touching and agreeing with us.

I am especially happy for and proud of Noelle. She is a single Christian mother whose life is

streamlined between her God, her son, her biological family, her church family and her job. You fellow

Christian parents can appreciate what I'm saying. Our greatest joy, before we die, is to see our children

receive God's salvation by accepting Jesus Christ as their Lord and Saviour.

When my mother died of child-bearing at age 43 when I was 12, and my preaching father died some

20 years later at age 64, they had no money or significant material possessions to will to my sisters and

brothers and me. But what they helped give us while they lived is far better than anything they could

have left us after they died. And that's Jesus.

It has to be difficult and sad to live in a family where you are the only Christian and you have to go

outside the household for prayerful support. Thank God, I don't have to panhandle because my

support starts at home.

Joyce and I first raised our children to worship God inside our home through family devotions,

prayers, sermons and song as well as inside formal church buildings. And I still remember Noelle's

attentive eyes being trained on me as she sat on the family room floor while I preached. She has grown

tremendously since then. But each of our daughters first shouted with us at home before they started

shouting in the church. That's the kind of family environment we have developed and enjoyed.

Now, our kids are all grown, have moved out of the house and left poor Joyce and me home alone.

But they are always just a prayer away. And that's a priceless convenience and harmony. The doctors are

doing what they can as God's instruments in my healing process. So are our daughters.

God bless you.

One surgery down, ??? to go.........Praise God!

2008-05-22T18:44:03Z

God bless you, today.
Yesterday's (Wednesday, May 21) radioactive seeds implantation for my prostate cancer went as Joyce and I prayed it would. Smooth. Wonderful. Even great?
I don't want to jump to conclusions too quickly. But so far, I not only feel better than expected but better than I've felt overall in a long time. As I told you at the start of this journey, I want to carefully take you through each stop along the way. I want to share with you even some--but not all--of the subtle details of this "healing in progress" trip.
Enjoy the scenery as we travel. Enjoy the trees and the breeze. The flowers and April showers. The hills, wind mills, frills and thrills. The valleys, the mountains, the sunshine, the clouds and all the whatever-else God bestows upon us as we reach our respective destinations of healing if you are truly praying along with me.

]]>

As usual, Joyce got out of bed before me, bathed and dressed. After we made up our common

king-size bed together, we knelt at the foot of the bed and prayed for God to see us through the day with

no complications. Our baby daughter Natasha called to pray us well. Noelle and Nicole also called Joyce to

assure us their prayers were with us. And off we went to the Chicago Prostate Cancer Center in

west-suburban Westmont for my 10:30 a.m. appointment for the world-renown Dr. Brian Moran to

implant my cancerous prostate with radioactive seeds.

Before we go farther, pause with me and give a prayerful shout out to all my fellow suffering warriors

fighting to survive cancer. I'm especially grateful to and prayerful for my Sun-Times colleague Roger

Ebert and my longtime idol Senator Edward Kennedy. I draw strength and encouragement from the

courageous battle Roger and honeybabysugarpie Chaz have been waging against his cancer. And I pray

that Senator Kennedy joins Roger and me in defying the naysayers and doing better than they have

projected. I'm more fortunate that my brain and prostate cancers are operable and that the brain tumor

is benign and treatable with medication.

Like so many Americans, I've admired the supreme sacrifices and selfless service members of the

Kennedy family have made to help our nation continue its stride toward peace, prosperity, freedom and

joy for all. Few families have lost as much in their giving to our nation's leadership. Many are calling

Kennedy the last in the Kennedy line in terms of magnanimous service, but certainly not the last of his

breed. I really think Barack Obama is of the same ilk.

Meantime, back to the CPCC. As we drove I-294 from Hazel Crest, Joyce and I listened to a CD of an

old watch night sermon I preached at Fellowship 12 years ago entitled, "I'm Just A Rubber Band

Being Stretched in God's Hand." It is about how Hezekiah, bed-stricken with a terminal illness, turned

from his wall of time to God's wall of eternity and prayed to God. In turn, God stretched his life by writing

out a cashier's check for15 more years. Hezekiah then cashed that check at the First National Bank of

God's Amazing Grace and it was shouting time in his house that day.

It was a sun-splashed Wednesday . We arrived at the CPCC on time, kissed and went into the facility

that Dr. Moran says did "1,100 brachytherapies last year, which amounts to roughly 80 percent of the

total performed in Illinois. We will do about 1,400 this year."

I was the eighth of 10 that the CPCC performed Wednesday. Because of my end-stage congestive

heart failure and my brain cancer, University of Chicago Medical Center urologist Dr. Glenn Gerber

suggested that I undergo the radiactive seeds implantation, or brachytherapy, because he had

diagnosed that the malignancy of my cancerous prostate tumors was early-staged and localized.

Nevertheless, I still explored the option of my cardiac surgeon, Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam, who

recommended what he felt was the best-case scenario of having a Heartmate XVE LVAS implanted

through open-heart surgery to strengthen my body for a radical prostatectomy. The latter is a radical

invasive operation, where the entire prostate is removed and where a determination can be made within

days whether one is "cancer-free." But prostatectomy is an in-patient procedure that involves hours of

surgery (even with robotic assistance), at least four or five days of being hospitalized, having to be

fitted with a catheter and bag to collect one's urine for at least five days, more painful side effects,

greater chances of subsequent impotence and more follow-up.

After talking with my good friend and mentor, Rev. Samuel Hinkle, pastor of Homewood's

Cathedral of Joy Baptist Church, I was encouraged to follow his example and was praying to enjoy

similar success.

"I had my prostate cancer treated with the radiation seeds at Northwestern Hospital in 2002," Rev.

Hinkle said. "It was relatively quick, painless and within a month or two I had reached the cancer-free

status. Now, this isn't for everybody. Especially those who may be in a more advanced stage of the

disease. But because mine was caught early, thank God, I could opt for the minimum invasive procedure.

I didn't want to risk suffering too many damaging side effects like impotence and incontinence.

"But, again, the key is for men, especially African-American men, to have regular prostate

examinations every year to stay on top of this disease, which is the most common cancer that men

suffer."

I likewise did not want to suffer many painful and damaging side effects. And at the tender age of

64, Rev. Dr. Lacy J. Banks sure did not want to be left impotent. (Please smile.)

Anyway, my procedure lasted just 40 minutes. My team comprised Dr. Moran (radiation oncologist),

urologist Dr. Paul West, nurse Rose Vrbos, anesthesiologist Maricio Orbegozo, technician Michael Foster,

pre-op nurse Nancy Gresham and post-op nurse Wendy Floyel.

The only negatives of the process was a painful hook-up of the IV into my left arm, the painful

injection of the anesthesia medication, which had my arm feeling like it was on fire and had me

groaning until I passed out, and what I considered the excessive post-op invitation for me to urinate

before I was good and ready. I knew they wanted to make sure there was no instant complication in that

area. But their insistence gave me the feeling that somebody was anxious to knock off for the day,

which I did not like.

Anyway, when I did urinate, I was relieved that the burning sensation was very, very mild--

certainly tolerable. As for the painful IV hookup, I've long had a beef with hospitals and clinics that seem

to hire the worst people to draw my blood or hook up my IV. I think that this is a very important

procedure and my experience has been that the older the person is, who is drawing my blood, the fewer

and less painful the needle-stickings.

Needles have never been a friend on mine, especially when the person doing the sticking does so

painfully and without success. One night after my triple-bypass at the UCMC seven years ago, eight

different people stuck me 12 different times trying to draw blood. Lacy Banks, not the reverend, cussed

out the eighth person and refused to let anybody draw any more. That was pitiful. I now refuse to give

anybody more than two chances to draw my blood. Once they frown and start fumbling around on this

hand, that hand, this arm, that arm and restart the process, I invite them to find somebody else.

And I really, really appreciate it when the technician confesses up front that he isn't sure and gets

somebody who can find my vein, rather than poke and poke and accuse me of being "a difficult stick" or

of having "rolling veins" or some other scapegoat excuses.

I feel like shouting when a technician, and I hope that's the proper term, feels my arm (not arms)

gently with his or her fingertips, says, "There it is. That's a good one," then needs only one poke and

strikes a gusher. I feel like hugging those who draw it so well that I hardly even feel it.

Oh yes, and another thing, why is it that the technicians in the blood-drawing labs of Northwestern

hospital and UCMC are either mostly black or all black? Hmmmmm. Just wondering.

We were out of the CPCC by roughly 1:30 p.m., dropped by Whole Foods to pick up soup, sushi,

orange juice, carrot juice, grapes, mandarin oranges and peaches. By 2:30 p.m., we were back home and

Joyce took over where the doctor left off, making sure I took me meds and ice packs at the proper times

until she retired for the night around 10:30 p.m. after looking at her daily soap opera recordings.

I stayed up and watched one of the most exciting comebacks I've ever seen on TV when the Los

Angeles Lakers opened Game 1 of the Western Conference NBA finals rallying from a 20-point,

mid-third-quarter deficit to a four-point win after NBA MVP Kobe Bryant took over the game and scored

25 of his 27 points in the second half. That comeback was almost as improbable as Bulls marketing chief

Steve Schanwald working his mojo to parlay a 1.7 percent long shot into the No. 1 pick in the upcoming

NBA draft.

Obviously, Derrick Rose's decision not to attend the University of Illinois but Memphis, which lost to

my alma mater Kansas in the NCAA championship game, ironically worked to bring him back home after

all to play for the Bulls if they choose to pick him.

I enjoyed the replay of the Lakers-Spurs game twice and went to bed at about 4:30 a.m. feeling

little pain and needing no more ice packs at 1 a.m. And when I awoke Thursday morning, I felt hardly

any discomfort except for slow urination. And to my surprise, I discovered from Dr. Moran that the

seeds were not implanted through a tube inserted into my rear as I had thought, but through long

needles stuck directly into my prostate from the perineum area just behind my scrotum.

According to my post-op report, Dr. Moran implanted 87 of those 1-125, source-type,

micro-nuclear warheads into my prostate at strategic locations to bombard my tumors and dissolve

them over a two-month period.

"Why didn't I see blood at the punctuation marks?" I asked.

"That's because we do such a good job," Vrbos beamed when she called to make sure I was doing

well.

According to Moran, I am making exceptional recover. Rev. Hinkle and I shouted for joy and he

prayed thanksgiving to our Almighty Jehovah Yahweh after I gave him my progress report. I felt so good

just overall that I even wondered if Dr. Moran really did operate on me.

"We get that compliment a lot," he said. "You will probably feel more discomfort later when the seeds

really start to working, however. And your urine stream may be slower and be clouded with some

blood."

Then again, maybe I won't. If and when I do, you will be among the first to know. While there is now

a two-week moritorium on me doing more than hugging and kissing my wife, I also now have to

wait a couple of months to see my PSA drop to 1 or less, compared to at least a week if I had had a

prostatectomy, I'm happy so far with my $30,000 procedure, perhaps one fifth the cost of a

prostatectomy.

Now, I will give more attention to my end-stage congestive heart failure. But as good as

I am starting to feel, I may not even need a heart operation, not to mention a heart transplant. And that's

miracle territory.

God bless you.

Lacy Banks on Comcast SportsNet

2008-05-20T20:46:02Z

God bless you.
By now, many of you have seen the beautiful special that Chicago's Comcast Cable aired of my "Healing In Progress" during its May 16 SportsNite hourlong program.
My wife Joyce and I were happy and honored to have former Bear great Dan Jiggetts, producer Willie Parker and cameraman Todd Williams in our humble home. In later shoots, cameramen Eric Fogle and Brett Fisher did the honors.
These gentlemen were quintessential professionals. My only regret is that my granddaughter Lauren Chapman was disappointed that I didn't get Dan's autograph. But hopefully I won't forget it in a followup.
Fogle came to Chicago's Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church while I was preaching the second night of its 82nd church anniversary revival. Pastor Joseph Jackson, his members and I were very grateful that Eric stayed for the whole service, heard the entire sermon, did not appear frightened by the shouting saints and, I believe, tossed me a couple of "amen reverend" when I needed extra fuel for fire.
I want to thank Comcast for helping us to invite the rest of America into our home and to join my wife and me on this healing journey. We're picking up prayerful passengers now from around the world, really. Wherever people can log in on the Sun-Times, they can enjoy seeing my wife and me in the accompanying video, which is presented in High-Definition living color and surround-sound stereo.
Whew!
Look Ma! We're TV stars now!
Station executive producer Lissa Druss Christman has already expressed interest in doing a followup later during this joyful victorious journey. And by that time, I hope to present a lighter and definitely healthier image. Yes, let's be honest. I'm ashamed of myself. I am about 40 pounds overweight. That's not being responsible on my part. I can't be lazy and expect God to do everything. I must put my faith to work by pushing away from that dinner table, where my wife is a queen of gourmet cuisine, and add more exercising and fasting to my regimen.
God bless you.

Prayer, pills, prayer, radiation seeds and more prayer

2008-05-19T18:28:39Z

Tomorrow morning, my healing schedule calls for prayer with my wife Joyce, 11 pills, prayer, radiation seeds implantation, then more prayer as my healing from brain cancer, prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure continues.
I still fell no pain, am able to power-walk on my treadmill, gradually raising my time and speed. Three nights ago, I did 2.9 miles nonstop in 55 minutes. That's good news for my heart. The progress with my heart leads Dr. Allen Anderson, my cardiologist at the University of Chicago Medical Center, to believe I may not need to have an HeartMate XVE LVAS pumping machine attached to my heart to tide me over until I reach the cancer-free rating qualifying me for heart transplantation.
"You are progressing much better than we expected," Dr. Anderson told me in my last visit.
With my brain cancer being declared benign and held in check by a weekly pill (.5mg Cabergoline), I now tend to my prostate cancer with the implantation of radiation seeds.
I have chosen the seeds implantation because of the favorable recoveries by friends like Rev. Samuel Hinkle, Rev. Tommie McCray, Dec. Erwin Dabney, Dr. Ansel Johnson, Dec. Leroy Reed, Dec. Franklin Reed and so many more.
Moreover, the seeds procedure is quicker (roughly 30 minutes), less painful, has fewer side effects and requires less recovery time than the other treatment options. Those options are radical prostatectomy, where the prostate is surgically removed, external radiation beams (nine weeks of treatments), chemotherapy and a freezing of the prostate.
"I know of at least a dozen of my friends who received the seeds treatment and they're all doing well," Dec. Dabney said. "Another friend had his prostate surgically removed last year and he still has to wear diapers (because of incontinence)."
Rev. Hinkle underwent his seeds implantation in 2002 at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
"And I've recovered extremely well with minimal pain or side effects," he said. "It got rid of my cancer within months. God is able. He brought me through this with the aid of doctors. That's my testimony and I continue to share it wherever I go. By the grace of God, I am a cancer survivor."
So is my pastor, Dr. Clay Evans, founder of Fellowship Baptist Church, where Rev. Charles Jenkins has succeeded him as pastor. Dr. Evans was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer six years ago and given six months to live.
"But the Lord answered prayer, moved through His surgeons, and I'm still here preaching His word," Dr. Evans said. "I am a living testimony. God is our salvation in every situation, be it medical, legal, social, economic or whatever. And we must give Him the glory for it first and foremost."

]]> My Wednesday radiation seeds implantation will be done as an out-patient procedure by Dr.

Brian Moran, renown radiation oncologist, at his Chicago Prostate Cancer Center in west suburban

Westmont. The CPCC is revered as the only free-standing facility in the world exclusively dedicated to

the seeds implantation procedure, which is called brachytherapy.

"I've been doing this for 13 years now and I personally have perform more than 7,000 on

patients from all over the world," Dr. Moran said. "At that rate, I believe I've done more than anybody

else. For years, radical prostatectomy was considered the gold standard for treating prostate cancer. But

brachytherapy has now evolved and improved to where it is as effective as, if not better than,

prostatectomy.

"The American Urologic Association convened a panel on this question about two years ago

and they concluded that all the treatments are equal in terms in cure. As far as our facility is concerned,

we have treated more than 10,000 patients from 12 different countries. We've never had a death, never

had incontinence, the risk of impotence is 15 percent and only two percent had a recurrence of cancer

because the cancer had already spread."

The CPCC has a staff of 40 that includes three radiation oncologists. It performed 1,101

brachytherapies last year and plans to do a record 1,3000 this year. Dr. Moran normal does 70 percent

of the procedures, which cost an average of $30,000. That's much cheaper than the prostatectomies,

which are in-patient procedure that required several days of recovery in the hospital, more follow-ups

and more uncomfortable side effects. Patients must also have to have a catheter inserted into the

penis and connected to a bag which they must carry around for weeks to collect urine.

I had a catheter inserted for about 15 minutes for a volume study of my prostate in preparation

for the seeds procedure and it was one of the most excruciating discomforts I've ever experienced.

Brachytherapy is done with the patient placed under general anesthesia. With recovery time

averaging 1-2 hours, the in-patient process takes roughly four hours before the patient is released

for a relative or friend to drive him home.

In my next entry, I will tell you how the brachytherapy went. I want to thank all my readers and

prayer partners for your support. My faith remains strong. What good is my faith if I can't put it to

use? God is not in my life for mere decoration. He is here to make up the difference between what man

can do and what must be done to get a difficult job done. Where man's abilities end, God's power, grace

and mercy extend to give us the victory in whatever endeavor.

God bless you.