For the last 19 months, I have been asking God to either heal my sick heart or to

replace it with a healthier one through a heart transplant. He had already healed a brain

tumor, which was almost instantly declared benign. And He is applying the finishing

touches to healing me of prostate cancer.

Then on Monday, Nov. 2, 2009, after undergoing two weeks of extensive tests,

interviews and reviews of my medical records, I was approved to be a "status 2"

candidate for a heart transplant at the world-renown, highly-acclaimed non-profit Mayo

Clinic's main facility in Rochester, Minn.

Dr. Alfredo L. Clavell, veteran Mayo cardiologist, called me with the good news after

he and a dozen other doctors, including cardiac surgeons, a urologist, endocrinologist and

psychiatrist, had convened to consider the latest patch of patients applying for organ

transplantation.

Originally, I had wanted my procedure to be done in my Chicago hometown because

of its many conveniences with my family having lived here for 41 years and with the

presence of friends and relatives who could help my wife, Joyce, my primary caregiver,

during the critical stage of my recovery. The Chicago operation also would have been

cheaper in terms of post-operative expenses.

Unfortunately, Chicago doctors, I talked to, felt my prostate cancer diagnosis of

2008 kept me at least two more years away from heart transplant candidacy, despite the

fact that my radiation brachytherapy treatment on May 21, 2008, has since dropped my

PSA from 5.5 to .83.

Doctors at the University of Chicago Medical Center, for example, require me to have

a heart pump implanted until my PSA drops to a level they consider acceptable for heart

transplant candidacy. But nobody there would tell me what that PSA level must be when I

asked for it.

At the Mayo Clinic, however, Dr. Lance Mynderse, a urologist, determined that my

rate of progress from the brachytherapy places me in the 99th percentile of patients

expected to live at least 15 years after the that treatment for prostate cancer.

"You are a lot more likely to die from congestive heart failure or a heart attack than

from prostate cancer," Dr. Mynderse said.

In short order, the cardiologists and cardiologists at Mayo agreed with Mynderse.

Dr. Clavell added that different hospitals and doctors have different opinions on how

aggressively to treat prostate cancer, even when it is early-stage and localized as mine

was said to be after a biopsy by Dr Glenn Gerber at the UCMC.

"Prostate cancers are among the slower-growing cancers," Dr. Clavell said. "And

our knowledge and treatment of the disease have greatly improved."

Thus, since my chances of getting a heart transplant are much quicker at Mayo,

where I could maybe even have to undergo only one serious surgery, the heart transplant,

instead of two, I have chosen to go with Mayo. Moreover, Mayo is one of the top hospitals

in the world in terms of across-the-board medical efficiency.

I was extremely impressed with the thorough and speedy care I got from Mayo from

the very start. They approached and explored me as a vast, integrated team

concentrating collectively on every area of my health to make sure that their investment

of somebody else's heart in me would not be a vain one. I had to be sick enough to need

it, healthy enough to receive it and committed and disciplined enough to make the best

use of it with a heathful and healthy lifestyle.

At the Mayo, I was examined and tested by a dozen doctors specializing in

cardiology, cardiac surgery, endocrinology, urology, neurology, infectious disease,

psychiatry and general surgery.

I am especially thankful to the invaluable assistance and intervention from former

Sting owner Lee B. Stern, a 60-year member of the Chicago Board of Trade, and of

James Hodge, a Mayo executive insider and longtime friend of Stern's. Yes, it pays to

have friends in high places.

I am also thankful to the University of Chicago Medical Center and Northwestern

Memorial Hospital for providing medical records of their treatments of me to help bring

the Mayo team up to date on my overall state of health. UCMC's Dr. Valluvan

Jeevanandam performed a triple bypass on me on Feb. 14, 2001, and those grafts

remain open. Northwestern's Dr. Mark Ricciardi finally brought my runaway high blood

pressure under control and performed two stentings when there were clogging problems

in my main arteries in 2003 and 2005. UCMC's Dr. Allen Anderson also prescribed

additional medicines to help my heart successfully endure the wait for a heart transplant.

The Mayo has given me and my wife a week or two to prepare for my admission into

the hospital there for transplant preparations that will include the administrations of

medications and the possible implantation of a defibrillator (ICD) or even a heart pump if

my heart worsens while I await a healthier heart. Doctors feel that my blood type, B

positive, may affect a shorter wait.

I am presently on medical leave from the Sun-Times to undergo this treatment, which,

doctors say, is a best option for long-term survival. But I will keep you informed of my

progress as long as the Sun-Times permits me. This is a story that needs to be told to

it very end. It is a source of tremendous encouragement to countless people in need as

they struggle with their health issues and life problems.

I am in no pain or ongoing discomfort whatsoever. I simply have a weaken, diseased

heart that prevents me from doing much before fatigue and shortness of breath stops me

and has me vulnerable to a potentially fatal heart attack. I am still on medications, taking

some 25 pills a day to help keep my functioning at minimum efficiency and productivity.

But these medicines appear to have reached their limit.

God is still large and in charge. He could still move in the twinkling of an eye and

heal me to where I won't need a transplant. But receiving a heart transplant does not

discount God's healing powers. Any help we get from doctors and other scientists comes

through them but from God, in whom we all live and move and have our being.

God bless you.

A week of being examined, undergoing tests and consulting with a dozen doctors

and a dozen nurses at the fame Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., propelled me to

postpone undergoing open-heart surgery on Oct. 26 at the University of Chicago Medical

Center, where I was to have a heart pump implanted in me.

I still may undergo the implantation of the Heartmate II, either at UCMC or the Mayo

or even Northwestern within the next couple of weeks. But new information I received

from the Mayo suggest that I may already qualify for a heart transplant at their

institution. The pump would then be a short-term bridge procedure.

The UCMC said the discovery of my brain tumor and prostate canter in March of 2008

disqualified me from being placed on their heart transplant list. Although the brain tumor

was declared benign early on, Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam and Dr. Allen Anderson say I'd

have to have a very low PSA reading from my prostate cancer to get on the heart

transplant list. Unfortunately, nobody tells me what that figure must be. This UCMC has

told me that their best treatment would be the implantation of the heart pump until my

PSA drops to ???. Then I would be eligible to undergo another open-heart surgery for

a heart transplantaton.

But Mayo doctors tell me they feel that, based on the progress I've already made in

recovering from the prostate cancer, I would qualify for a heart transplant now. After being

personally examined by a dozen doctors and a dozen nurses in the areas of cardiology,

urology, neurology and general internal medicine, two breakthroughs led to my request

for postponement of the surgery to implant me with a pump.

First, Dr. Lance Mynderse, Mayo urologist, concluded that my prostate cancer

diagnosis should not prevent me from being an immediate candidate for heart

transplantation because of my rather rapid rate of progress.

UCMC doctors have said that my prostate cancer disqualified me from immediate

heart transplant candidacy and that I should have the LVAD and pacemaker-defibrilator

implanted as a bridge during a wait of two or three years while my PSA dropped to a

certain level, which you refuse to specify, acceptable for heart transplant candidacy.

But Dr. Mynderse says that since my PSA has dropped from 5.5, before my May 21,

2008, brachetherapy, to .85, as of last week, I rank in the 99th percentile of brachetherapy

patients who are expected to still be alive at least 15 years after the procedure. Yes,

that's 15 years, not five years, after brachetherapy.

"At that rate, you are a lot more likely to die from heart failure than from prostate

cancer," Dr. Mynderse said.

Second, when I shared this information of Dr. Alfredo Clavell, the Mayo cardiologist and

the overlord of my Mayo examinations, he refused to disagree with Dr. Mynderse because

Mayo has no set PSA requirement for heart transplant candidacy. What he thus

recommends is that I meet with and be examined by his full team of Mayo cardiologists

and cardiac surgeons and transplant specialists so that they can determine whether they

would put me on the heart transplant list right away than on the heart pump transplant list.

I realize that continued deterioration of my heart may still require me to have a pump

implanted. But at the Mayo, it would definitely be more of a bridge procedure rather than

a more extended destination procedure. Obviously, different hospitals have different

standards of operation. If I find a system that would require one open-heart surgery

instead of two, I would prefer that after already having had my chest sawed open twice in

2001.

I am being scheduled to return to the Mayo for three or four days of additional testing,

examination and consultation Oct. 26-Oct. 29. I will keep you posted on the results of

those tests and the conclusion of clinic's cardiac team. I am presently on vacation. But my

weakened heart is such that I can not presently perform my job as a 37-year veteran

Chicago Sun-Times newspaper reporter on a full-time basis until my health improves and

I have thus requested medical leave in my diligent efforts to save my life and restore my

health.

Within a week, I expect to have a firm picture of my next move. Obviously, I'd

rather undergo one open-heart surgery than two. And that one would be the heart

transplant, uness the Lord heals me soon and spares me the need for either.

God bless you.

As I ponder a Oct. 26 surgical date with a heart pump, I do so with added hope after

a wonderful weekend of good news from two families, whose loved ones were helped by

the God-blessed modern medical technology of organ transplantation.

First, there is Jessie Ramirez' family on Chicago's southwestside. For months,

Tomas and his sister Patty have been begging me to come to their home to break bread

and to hear` how the transplantation of a heart pump gave them and their father, Jessie,

a retired butcher, a lifetime of joy by adding four extra years to his life.

Second, there is the family of my dear friend, Rev. Gregory Macon. His wife of 40

years, Vaughn, shouted to high heavens when his six-year wait was rewarded with a new

kidney. When I led her in prayer over the phone, after she had made me one of the first

to receive the good news, she shouted the way my dear mother, Sarah Loraine Banks,

used to shout over this kind of good news and the joy of the Lord.

I felt good for both families and led both in prayer thanking God for blessing

mankind with the medical breakthroughs that are enabling us to live longer. After all,

all our help comes from the Lord. Every good gift and every perfect gift comes down

from above, down from the Lord of lights, in whom there is no variableness, neither

shadow of turning.

After years of high blood pressure and diabetes that mutated into end-stage

congestive heart failure, Jessie, at age 60, was so weak he could hardly get out of

his easy chair in front of the giant-screen living-room TV and walk to the front door 17

feet away.

Doctors told him, he was a dying man who could only be saved by a heart pump

because he had gotten too weak from his multiple health issues to receive a heart

transplant. Faced with the gruesome alternative, it was a no-brainer for Jessie to choose

the pump because he just had too much to live for.

First, there was his lovely wife of some 40 years, Maria, who has the face of an

angel and a demeanor to match. Quiet, charming and graced with the smooth olive-hued

skin of a baby, she had been his primary caregiver, his best friend, the mother of his

children, the apply of his eye and the spice of his life.

Second, there were his children: sons Tomas, Marco and Jessie Jr., and daughters

Patty, Sandra and Kristina.

Third, there was his other relatives headed by his sister-in-law Chila, who has been

Maria's support system whenever she was wearied by the weight of her husband's

woes.

Fourth, there was the promise of seeing a grandchild or two, every father's dream.

"His will to live was greater than his fear of death," Tomas said. "He loved his

family dearly and he longed to bounce a grandchild on his knees before leaving this

world. He fought like heck. He was a warrior. We all love him so and will forever miss

him."

The pump added four more years to Jessie's life.

"But they were precious years we enjoyed with our father," Patty said. "The pump

restored a lot of his strength and his vitality, He'd get up and go out for walks. He could

not keep still. And we were happy to see him enjoy life again."

Those four years were even more precious for Jessie, too, because it was during

that time that his children gave him two grandsons, three-year-old Stefano (Tomas' boy)

and two-year-old Christopher (Patty's boy), who are both thrust a couple of months apart.

When I walked into Jessie's home to enjoy dinner, I felt the warmth of his loving

spirit for his family still thick in the air. I felt also the afterglow of his family's love for him.

This mutual passion was so perfect and palpable.

First, the family answered a variety of questions I had about the pump, how Jessy

adjusted to it, how his care became a whole family affair and not just Maria's job, how

he reveled in holding his grandkids and other things.

After an hour, we retired to the dinning room where Maria served up a delicious

dish of pozole, a rich soup of hominy grits with vegetables and chucks of beef. Hmmmm.

La comida estaba muy deliciosa! Afterward, I wolfed down a slice of pie.

Then Patty closed the show and brought down the house with a 15-minute DVD

of family photos that invited me to journey down the family's memory lane and enjoy

photos of Jessie and Maria from the time there were teenage lovers in Ocoplan, Jalisco

in Mexico, through their beautiful church wedding, through a slew of joyful family

reunions and picnics. It touched my heart so deeply, the profound sense of family of the

Ramirez household, that I had to see the DVD twice. Patty obliged.

It was a chilly, rainy night outside. But a lot of warm sunshine pulsated inside that

house. I felt honored to be in the midst of such a lavish family love nest.

The very next morning, Saturday, Oct. 3, Mrs. Macon phoned me with the good

news. Rev. Macon has been through a lot of health challenges. But he never let them

get the best of him. A couple of times, he collapsed into a coma while out of town

running a revival. You, see, Rev. Macon is one of those old-school Baptist preacher,

steeped in the whooping tradition forged by the promethean likes of Rev. C. L.

Franklin, Rev. Caesar W. Clark, Rev. Clay Evans, Rev. Donald Parson, Rec. Leo

Daniels, Rev. L. L. Laws, Rev. Jasper Williams, Rev. Johnny Miller and Rev. Gordon H.

Humphrey.

He preaches with power an aerobic athleticism until he is lathered with sweat and

saints are shouting like crazy and demons are screaming for mercy and the devil is

screaming, "Ouch! That hurts! Ouch!" Rev. Macon's kind of preaching with grow hair on

a bald-headed man, make a bulldog hug a hound and make a sinner repent and become

a saint.

Six years, he waited diligently and often painfully. Six years, he underwent dialysis

three times a week. Six years, he had his blood washed almost 1,000 times. Six years

he endured needles and pills and bills for his ills. But six years, he and his prayer

partners never gave up hope. The switchboard in heaven stayed busy 24-7 with prayers

of the righteous being offered up on Macon's behalf.

In my mind, I can hear angelic operators saying, "My, my, my. That Rev. Macon

and Jessy Ramirez' family sure have a lot of prayer partners."

Before I let you know, I want you all to know that God is still answering prayers.

God is still saving to the utmost. God is still delivering. God is still feeding and leading.

God is still fighting the battle for the underdogs and the downtrodden all around the

world. God is still in the healing and blessing business. Just ask the Ramirez and

Macon families. Their souls are a witness for my Lord.

And right now, wherever you are and regardless of what you're going through, if

you drop down on your knees and prayer the prayer of faith asking in Jesus' name, God

will hear and answer prayer. I love Him. I trust Him. any way He wants to heal me is

alright with me.

God bless you.

As most of you know from news reports over the last few months, the Sun-Times, the

newspaper for which I've worked 37 years, is fighting for its life just as I have been fighting

for my life the last 19 months and sharing my struggles with you in this blog.

If an agreement for its sale is not reached between we union member and a

prospective buyer by early October, there is a chance our bankrupted paper may have to

close down. We're all working hard to save the paper.

Meantime, unless God's healing or a health emergency demands otherwise, I am

tentatively scheduled to undergo a major open-heart surgery Oct. 26 at the University of

Chicago Hospital to have Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam affix a pumping machine to my

heart's left ventricle.

For the last 19 months, I have been praying for God to heal my brain tumor, prostate

cancer and especially my diseased, malfunctioning heart so that I would not have to take

any more pills or have another open-heart operation. I underwent a successful triple-

bypass in 2001 also at UCMC, where Dr. Jeevanandam performed that procedure.

So far, God has not exercised His will to heal me directly and completely.

My brain tumor is benign, and I thank Him dearly for that.

My prostate cancer is in remission after I underwent radiation treatment last year,

and I thank Him dearly for that, too.

But my heart remains my primary concern. While I have refused during the last 15

months to have the pump implanted, my heart has gotten weaker and its increasing

failure to pump blood properly has resulted in the rest of my body part becoming also

weaker and frail.

In the last five months, sisters and brothers, I have lost more than 40 pounds!

I have retarded this deterioration with prayer, consistent exercise, rest, pills and

smart eating. But my best treatment for long-term relief appears to be a new pumping

device called Heartmate II. It is the most efficient, flexible, compact and durable device of

its kind to date.

The pump can sustain me for another five to 10 or more years while my prostate

cancer dissolves to a non-discernible level where I could then be eligible for a heart

transplant if my heart does not get any better.

Having the pump implanted in me will result in me being battery-powered outside my

home and AC-powered within it. But I will not only be alive, the improved blood circulation

it renders will reverse the systematic breakdown of the rest of my body and restore a very

significant amount of strength, vim, vigor and vitality that I have lost.

I want to live and I thank God that He has blessed mankind with prolonged like

through advanced medical technology that's enabling us to recover from health problems

that previously killed us. All our help comes from the Lord. It may come through other

people, through machines, through life experiences, money, nature, medicines, the police,

doctors, lawyers, judges, government, the fire department and whatever else. But all our

help comes originally from the Lord.

While I am fighting for my one physical life, the Sun-Times is a company where the

professional livelihood of some 1,800 workers is at stake. I feel for my fellow employees.

Like me, they all have to eat, too. Most also have families and loved ones to support. And

as badly as I want my physical life saved, I have a greater concern for the professional

lives of all us paper employees. I am not a selfish person. When other hurts, I hurt

because I try hard to be my brother's keeper.

That's why if there is an order in which God will attend to our survival needs, I wish

God would save the life of this great newspaper ahead of me. But like everything else, in

the final analysis, I yield to His will because Jesus taught us redeemed to pray that God's

kingdom come and that God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

I appreciate the prayers, best wishes and tremendous encouragement you readers

have shared on my behalf and the paper's behalf. That's because people's health and

jobs are closely related in many ways. But notice that despite the uncertainty of our

paper's future,which is cause for many to be despondent and paralyzed with

hopelessness, we staffers come to work everyday and work our best to give Chicago and

the rest of the world the best reporting we can give.

A strong, well-managed and honestly-run newspaper of professional integrity,

courage and honesty is one of the most valuable components of a democratic society. We

hold accountable the powerful and popular people who are supposed to be serving the

public's best interests.

I will shortly go on extended medical leave to prepare my house, my family and my

body for the radical revisions imposed by the pump. I will still blog about my condition,

bad or good, as long as this paper is in business and allows me to blog. It would be a

shame if after sharing my journey and experience al these months that you end up not

being able to know my final outcome in this paper.

God bless you.

Since doctors told me 17 months ago that I have end-stage congestive heart failure,

prostate cancer and a brain tumor, not one day has passed without me thinking about

death and seeing myself dying from one of these serious illnesses.

Yes, I'm still praying to be healed of these sicknesses. I'll never give up and I thank

all of you prayer partners for continuing to touch and agree with me on the desires of my

heart for those healings.

At the same time, because I am a practical man, as well as a preaching man of

faith, I'm not sitting idly by, waiting for some cataclysmic healing to drop from the sky.

Rather, I take about 30 pills a day for these illnesses. And when pill-taking time

comes, I spread the proper pills out on a table or counter and I remember why I am

swallowing each one. I take them because I am a very sick man who wants to live and I'm

doing my best to take full advantage of every blessing available to keep me alive.

The deaths of celebrities this year remind us again and again that no earthling is

going to get out of life alive. While the death of Senator Edward Kennedy sadden all

men of good will, it's not too surprising because we knew that he was had been fighting

brain cancer for a year. Plus, he was 77 years old.

Neither was it that shocking when historian John Hope Franklin died at age 94,

network news anchorman Walter Cronkite died at 92, actor Karl Malden died at 97,

humantarian Eunice Kennedy Shriver died at 88, former defense secretary Robert

McNamara died at 93 or guitarist Les Paul died at 94. These dears souls were up in

years.

Famed Michael Jackson, one of my all-time favorite entertainers, shocked us all

when he died young at age 50. But the circumstances of his death now help us to

better understand why he died so young.

Meantime, while I am no longer young at age 66, I am not really old, either, by

today's standards that include the best medical care so far ever available in human

history. Even better, I am blessed to be gainfully employed and have access to this care.

If this care had been enjoyed by my immediate family members, my oldest sister, Mrs.

Maude Lee Burrell, would not have died at age 66. Or my father Rev. A.D. Banks at age

64, my youngest brother Hansel at age 51, my mother at age 43, my premature

twin sons or my five other sisters and brothers at infancy.

Like all of you, I want to live a longer, meaningful and enjoyable life. But I'm no

longer afraid to die like I was when I was a boy. Death doesn't bother me because I've

already lived 66 sensational years. Death doesn't bother me because I've already seen

three daughters become distinguished ladies with college degrees, including one with

a Christian husband and four children and another a Christian single mother with one

marvelous son.

I'm not afraid to die because I have already enjoyed many other priceless

blessings.

I have seen, hugged and kissed five grandchildren.

I have known the fiery love and sweet companionship of Joyce, my high school

sweetheart who has been a perfect wife for more than 41 years.

I have been blessed to work my way up from eating neckbones to eating T-bones.

I've been blessed to rise from a Mississippi cotton picker earning $3 a day to

being sports reporter for this newspaper and a preacher earning almost 100 times that

much.

I casted one of the votes that elected America's first black President.

I marched in civil rights demonstrations with Dr. Martin Luther King.

I was the first person in my immediate family to get a college degree.

I've preached in more than 100 Chicago churches alone, plus churches in Kansas,

Mississippi, Tennessee, Ohio, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, Oklahoma, Texas, Pennsylvania,

Michigan, Arkansas and California during the last 57 years.

I've set foot in 35 American states and I have vacationed in England, Mexico,

France, Germany, Holland and Canada. I've been mightily blessed.

But the main reason I'm not afraid to die is because I have a savior in Jesus Christ.

And because He is my savior, I have a permanent home for my soul when this life is

over.

If I had my choice, I'd rather die quick and easy, preaching God's gospel in some

pulpit or wherever. Because of poor medical care and racial prejudice, my mother, Sarah

Lorane Sanders Banks, died suffering excruciating pain over several days after being

poisoned by a dead infant she was too weak to deliver.

I was 11 years old at that time. They called me home from running a revival in Cape

Gerardeau, Mo. She was dying in a hospital bed in Mt. Bayou, Miss., an all-Black

town and an all-Black hospital. I got there just in time to see her smile through incredible

pain a day before she died. I was mad at the world. Especially the white world and the

Mississippi racism that conspired to deny her better medical care. I've grown beyond that

rage. But I still hate racism and I still hurt when I think of how my mother died so young.

Yes, I want to live. I have so much to live for. I have loved ones to live for. I have

causes to live for. I want to do what I can to make this world better for everybody and to

help suffering people everywhere.

I want to live badly. But because of my faith, I declare unto you all that death, for me,

is a win-win situation.

Doctors still tell me that I need a heart pump or a heart transplant or both if I am

to live out the year. Daily pains are making me agree with them, unless God heals me

first.

I have become a reluctant daily companion of unwelcomed pain. All kinds of pain.

Stinging pains. Burning pains. Aching pains. Acute pains. Dull pains. My arms and legs

are growing weaker and my finger tips scream, through stinging sensations, for their fair

share of circulated blood.

Three weeks ago, I underwent a back surgery to relieve me from extreme pains in

my lower back. Pains persists in my left groin and left legs. But I am blessed to be able

to endure these pains and to enjoy far more positives than negatives. I am still able to

preach and work. I am still able to encourage others to fight for their lives. And I say

unto you, sisters and brothers, fight. Fight for your lives. Fight for your love. Fight to

love and be loved. Fight for the good of all mankind. Fight for every breath and for every

heartbeat until.........

God bless you.

Since April of 2008, I have been fighting a brain tumor, prostate cancer, end-stage

congestive heart failure and a progressively bad back.

By the grace of God, I have been gainfully employed for 37 years as a newspaper

reporter and I also have been able to have great medical insurance coverage for my

family and myself.

But after undergoing back surgery (a lumbar laminectomy) on Monday, Aug. 10, I

found myself two days later having to verbally protest against efforts to release me before

I had experienced sufficient recovery where I could stand and at least stagger on my

own.

Dr. Frederick Brown, a highly acclaimed neurosugeon with the University of Chicago

Medical Center, had performed the 90-minute operation on me. The operation was a

success in terms of me surviving it. But long before it could be determined whether it had

repaired my herniated disc to allow me to stand and walk without pain, a couple of lower

ranked doctors (Dt. I. T. and Dr. K. H.) were trying to get me to agree that the hospital had

done all it could do for me and to agree with their desire to release me.

For most patients undergoing a lumbar laminectomy, I am told that this operation

is done on an out-patient basis and that the patient is released either on the day of or the

day after his surgery. I was hoping for a response close to that. But because of my

high-risk status as an end-stage congestive, heart-failure patient, I was expected to be

held over for a day or two to make sure the operation had no serious, adverse effect upon

my heart.

For my birthday on Tuesday, and for Wednesday, my recovery was so slow that

pain, soreness and stiffness in the area of my surgery prevented me from standing or

walking on my own. I was disappointed by this slow recovery. But I was not hopeless. I

was realistic. At my age and with my weak-circulating heart, I did not expect a speedy

response to treatment.

But as early as Wednesday morning, Dr. I.T. was suggesting that the hospital was

ready to release me and that I could continue painful recovery at home. I told him that I

could not see myself leaving earlier than Thursday and was hoping that I would be able

to at least stand and walk on my own before leaving at all or that I'd just immediately

check into another hospital.

On Thursday morning, although I had been transferred from the ICU to a regular

room at 1:30 a.m., I still had not progressed well enough to leave the hospital. But Dr. I. T.

said that the hospital might have to release me Friday because the physical therapist

said she felt I was ready to go home.

"I find it hard to believe that a doctor would release a patient based solely on what

a physical therapist says," I told Dr. I. T. "Especially since that therapist has yet to see

me stand and walk on my own."

Allow me to say that in my 40 years of going to the University of Chicago

Hospital for medical care, on the whole, I have been treated well. It is not a perfect

hospital. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had three ribs broken during my 2001 triple bypass

or had to undergo another serious operation to stabilized my sternum when some

experimental titanium plates failed to do the job. But the fact I still seek care from them

is because I have confidence in the likes of Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam, Dr. Allen

Anderson, Dr. Kenneth Brown, Dr. Loveland, Dr. Darby, Dr. Fedson, Dr. Al-Sadir, etc.

So when Friday morning came, I was still in the UCMC. I had progressed well

enough to stand and walk on my own. But I remained in dire pain. Still, I felt for sure that

I could be able to leave by Saturday morning. Dr. I. T. apologized for giving me the

impression that he was trying to rush me out of the hospital. He also defended the

therapist, who gave me the impression she was trying harder to get rid of me than to help

me recovery.

"Maybe she did a good job helping you to recover from whatever," I said. "Or maybe

she has done a great job on everybody else you have seen her work with. I can't argue

about those possibilities because I know nothing about them. I can only speak about my

relationship of working with her and the impression she gave me."

But when Saturday morning came, suddenly nobody was anxious to push me out

the door when my blood test suggested some kidney problems. For the first time, since

I was moved out of Intensive Care, my blood was drawn and tested. I was happy about

the efficient, painless job that Joseph Wells did in drawing my blood. Hospital personnel

say that I am a difficult stick when drawing blood because my veins are so small.

"But the truth is that a lot of personnel either don't know what they are doing, may

be in a bad mood and may be a little scared at the time they are drawing blood," Wells

said. "So they don't do a good job. They have to stick the patient several times. But I

start looking for the best veins as soon as I'm entering the room. I believe I'm good at

this because I believe it's gift to be able to take blood without hurting people. This job

also requires patience as much as skill."

Wells, a native of Pascagoula, Miss., says he got his training from Northwestern

Hospital in Evanston, and that he hopes to keep working and learning so that he can

go as far as he possibly can in the medical field.

"It's all in the touch," said Wells, who is built like an NFL fullback or linebacker. "You

have to have a tender touch and you have to have a passion for helping people get

well."

Now, it's Sunday morning, and I still am in pain as I am being transferred into the

cardiac ward to continue my recovery from the back surgery and to start preparation for

the implantation on a heart pump as a bridge to heart transplantation.

But I don't think I'll ever get over my displeasure at a physical therapist and a doctor

trying to rush me out of the hospital before I was well enough to leave even though I

had first-class insurance coverage plus Medicare as a supplement.

God bless you.

Spending one's birthday in the hospital recovering from surgery is no happy thought

and no springboard toward a happy birthday.

But that's my lot since I undergo back surgery Monday morning (Aug. 10) at the

University of Chicago Hospital, where UCMC neuro-surgeon Dr. Frederick Brown will

perform a lumbar laminectomy on me.

Then the next day, Aug. 11, I'll hopefully celebrate my 66th birthday.

Not with a party, which I have never had. But I'll celebrate it recovering from that

back surgery. And the happiest part of that birthday will be simply surviving a successful

surgery with as little pain as possible.

After a hopefully short recovery, unless God gives my heart the miracle healing we

have been praying for, I will then undergo my most serious surgery yet. I will have a

Heartmate2, a left-ventricular-assist-device, implanted to desperately improve my blood

circulation.

My weakened heart, afflicted with end-stage congestive heart failure, has been

doing a progressively poor job of pumping life-sustaining blood throughout my blood and

that has resulted in a slow-motion death for me. I am experiencing more and more

stiffness, pain and weakness in my fingers and hands, toes and feet and joints.

The bad back has simply made matters worse by preventing me from standing or

walking longer than a minute or two. And the increasing sedentary life is no friend to the

exercise and therapy crucial to improving or preserving the health of my heart.

I have done a lot of study on the heart pump. A very good source of knowledge

and encouragement has come from a new friend named Robert Winston, a 48-year-old

Cabrini Green native who wore a Heartmate2 for a year before receiving his new heart

a month ago at the University of Chicago.

Robert's story is very intriguing, exciting and encouraging. At trimming down some

100 pound from being what he calls a sick, 297-pounder, his congestive heart failure

worsened and resulting in him collapsing into a coma before being rushed to the

hospital and given an implanted Heartmate2 as a bridge to a much-needed, life-saving

heart transplant.

"That pumped saved my life and made me feel better than I had felt in years,"

Winston told me. "The next thing I noticed after getting the pump was that my toenails

and fingernails started growing again. I also started getting back strength in my legs, my

hands, my whole body. It was difficult to adjust to at first, having to depend upon

battery packs and a home console machine plugged into the wall to keep me alive. I

couldn't sleep on my stomach or takes baths or any long trips. But when you realize that

your very life will depend upon those changes, you learn to adapt to them sooner or

later because you have no other choice if you want to live.

"And my main drive was the fact that I wasn't ready to die and didn't want to die.

I loved living and I had a lot of my family, especially my three sons, depending upon me.

Also, the fact the pump made me feel so much better made it easier for me to put up

with the negatives and inconveniences because they were such a little price to pay to

stay alive."

After getting his new heart from a donor half his age, Winston says he so far has

noticed little improvement in the way he felt after having the pump implanted in him.

This really says volumes about the benefits provided by the pump. Obviously, the

heart transplant, if successful and compatible with the recipient, is the better option

because the patient once again is more mobile and self-sufficient. He no longer has

to live being powered by and tethered to a battery pack or an AC console through a

drive line connecting to the D-battery-sized motor that is attached to his heart and

that provides a constant flow blood that no longer includes a heartbeat.

With my health deteriorating, I desperately need the pump and am praying for

a successful and timely implantation.

God bless you.

I've just finished the worst vacation of my life with my wife Joyce because I was in

almost constant back pain that kept me from standing or walking for more than a minute

at a time.

But thanks to Thursday's approval by my cardiologist, Dr. Allen Anderson of the

University of Chicago Medical Center, I have been cleared to go through with my

back surgery (a lumbar laminectomy) on Monday morning at the University of Chicago

Medical Center, where Dr. Frederick Brown with perform the operation.

Because of my high risk as an end-staged congestive heart failure patient, who is

also fighting prostate cancer, I had to get an OK from Dr. Allen. His examination of me

on Thursday yielded two pieces of good news:

1. Dr. Allen examined me and concluded that my heart is strong enough to undergo

the operation, which will be done under general anesthesia. But he suggests that I remain

a couple of days afterward so that the UCMC medical staff can make sure there are no

immediate cardiac complications, or any complications for that matter. Upon recovery,

the next move probably will be the implantation of a heart pump, most likely the

Heartmate 2.

2. My PSA, a barometer of prostate cancer, is now at a fantastic low of .83. We

discovered this from the blood test that Dr. Anderson ordered. All other vitals are

also good. But this is the first time I can ever remember having a PSA under 1.0. This

means my prostate cancer continues in remission and is progressively dissolving.

Thank you, Jesus!!!

Yes, with my brain tumor being healed and declared benign 15 months ago, my

prostate cancer is also being healed, but more slowly.

Now, to get my back straight so that I can stand, walk and exercise better

and strengthen my diseased heart. With so many things wrong with me medically, I just

wanted to get at least one more vacation out of the way before my next rounds of

surgeries because one never knows the exact outcome.

Anyway, who schedules a vacation to undergo surgery or to recover from sickness?

Thank God for a union and a labor contract that provides for workers to take sick leaves

and not be punished for being sick or for seeking and receiving treatment.

Still, the last place one wants to suffer pain is on a vacation with a loved one in a

beautiful setting. Joyce, my wife of 41 years, and I spent five days in resplendent

Vancouver, overlooking its panoramic harbor, and 11 days in sun-splashed Orlando. But I

was refined to either sitting or lying down most of the time.

When we went grocery shopping, I rode the electric wheel chair, which made me feel

ashamed as I rode while my darling wife walked. I didn't feel like a man even through

people flashed smiles of compassion at me, assuring me that they understood my

predicament.

So now it's on to my back surgery. I thank you for your continued prayers in

advance. But thank God, I not only have you praying for me, which is great. I have my

own prayer telephone in my bosom. And I am using it to pray for myself, too.

God bless you.

Within the next two weeks, I will have either a heart pump or a repaired back or both.

Thank you for your continued prayers.

When I first discovered 15 months ago that I had end-stage congestive heart

failure, a brain tumor and prostate cancer, I prayed for God to heal me instantly and

completely of all three.

Many of you Christian sisters and brothers joined me by prayerfully touching and

agreeing with me and the desires of my heart.

God blessed me first with the brain tumor being declared benign.

God blessed me again to put my prostate cancer in remission with the aid of

brachetherapy or the implantation of radiation seeds by Dr. Brian Moran of the Chicago

Prostate Cancer Center.

God also blessed me to retard the deterioration of my heart through additional

medications prescribed by Dr. Allen Anderson of the University of Chicago Medical

Center, where Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam has been the chief cardiac surgeons for years

It was Dr. Jeevanandam who performed a triple bypass on me Feb. 14, 2001.

When I was hospitalized 15 months ago, Dr. Jeevanandam suggested that I have

a Left-Ventricle Assist Device implanted as soon as possible because my mitral valve

and left ventricle were irreparably damaged and that my heart was not pumping blood

sufficiently and was getting progressively weaker.

I chose to keep praying and waiting for a cataclysmic healing of my heart, which

needed a heart transplant. My wife, daughters, sisters and brothers and close friends

asked to get the pump because it is said to be my best medical option to extending my

life until I can get a new heart.

After my first 10 days of vacation, where I have done mostly nothing but rest, the

signs now are clearer than ever that my failing heart needs help before my bad back.

I am already scheduled to undergo a back operation, specifically a lumbar laminectomy,

to be performed by Dr. Frederick Brown, neuro-surgeon at the University of Chicago

Medical Center, on Aug. 10.

For some seven months, severe stenosis issues in my lower back has kept me from

standing or walking for longer than a few minutes. Since Dr. Anderson has assured me

the back problem was not related to poor blood circulation, I decided to undergo the

back surgery first.

But painful aches, stiffness and occasional swelling in my fingers, feet, joints and

quick fatigue suggest to me that I might be better served having the heart surgery

first. That's why I am firing off an e-mail tp my doctors today asking their advice.

I will keep you posted as my fight continues.

God bless you.

I'd like to use this blog entry to share with you a comment from Elizabeth, one of my

recent blog readers, and my response to her.

Here is what she wrote:

"You so-called 'Christians' are contradictory. You claim not to be afraid to die, but yet you

fight tooth and nail to do anything to live another day longer, knowing full well, it's

useless. If you are such a believer, then why don't you stop all your treatment and leave it

in His hands?"

BANKS' RESPONSE: "Us Christians so contradictory" because we try to help

ourselves as well as believe in and pray to God?

You are so wrong and off-base, Elizabeth.

We know that God is all-powerful and that He has the whole world in His hands.

Right?

Well, maybe you don't believe that either. But we "so-called Christians" do.

We also believe that in God we live, move and have our being. At the same time, the

earth is the Lord's and the FULNESS thereof, the world and THEY that dwell therein.

Well, among "the FULNESS" of the world and among "THEY that dwell therein" are

doctors, lawyers, plumbers, carpenters, electricians, teachers, preachers, police, firemen,

bread, water, medicine, sun, rain, dirt, plows, seeds, etc. You name it.

Now, the final outcome of anything is in God's hands because He not only has the

last word, He is the Word. But when I'm hungry, I do my best to get some of that bread in

His hands to eat so that I won't starve to death.

Only the fool sits down in the middle of life and does not try to do anything to better

himself or to use the common sense that God has given him. That's why when my

drains are stopped up, I call the plumber. When I have an electrical problem, I call

the electrician. When my car breaks down, I call or take it to an auto mechanic. When

there is a fire in my house and I can't put it out by myself, I call the fire department. When

I'm sick, I seek the help of a doctor. When I have a legal problem, I seek a lawyer. And

when a criminal tries to invade my home, I call the police, if I have time to do so, or I try

to defend my family myself by any means necessary.

Now, the plumber, electrician, mechanic, fireman, doctor, lawyer, police and all the

other craftsman of human society are all part of the "FULNESS" of this world and "THEY

that dwell therein."

Just look at yourself, Elizabeth. You didn't leave criticizing us so-called Christians

"in God's hands." Neither did you leave this task in the hands of the devil, who is forever

a liar, a murderer and a false accuser of the brethren and wants us all dead.

Rather, propelled by your probable disbelief in God, and your apparent disrespect for

His redeemed, you took it upon yourself to use your eyes to read this blog, you used your

heart and mind to misjudge us "so-called Christians," and then you used your fingers to

e-mail me what I believe is an off-base criticism of "us Christians."

Well, Elizabeth, I don't know who you worship or if you worship anybody. But those of

us who worship God in spirit and in truth do know that it is at least common sense to do

our best and then trust God for the rest.

Yes, that's right. There's nothing wrong and everything right in us trying to use what

God has already given us before we ask Him to give us anything else.

And, yes, we "so-called Christians" are going to try to do all we can on our own

behalf to live as long and as well as we possibly can. But at the same time, we try to

take full advantage of God's invitation to ask so that it shall be given, to seek so that we

may find and to knock so that the door hall be opened unto us. We take full advantage

of His invitation for us to come unto Him when we labor and are heavy ladened so that

He will give us rest.

God bless you, Elizabeth, for being honest. But I invite and urge you also to seek

the Lord while He may be found and to call upon Him while He is so near. Most of all,

if you haven't done so, I urge you to confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord and to

believe with your heart that He died on Calvary's cross one Friday for all your sins or

imperfections and shortcomings and then arose from the dead the following Sunday

morning with all power in heaven and earth given by God unto Him.

When you do those things, Elizabeth, you will be saved and will become one of us

"so-called Christians" where the joy of the Lord is your strength and where you will

bless the Lord at all times so that His praise shall continually be in your mouth.

God bless you.

On Saturday night, I covered the 10th championship victory of a Chicago sports team

when the Chicago Slaughter defeated the Ft. Wayne Freedom to win the Continental

Indoor Football League title in the Sears Centre, a 10,000-seat arena in suburban west

Chicago.

In my 37 years of writing for the Chicago Sun-Times, I don't know of any other

sports reporter in the city who can claim that milestone. First, I covered the Sting and

the two North American Soccer League championships that they won in 1981 and 1984.

Next, I covered the Bulls when they, led by Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and

coach Phil Jackson, won six NBA championships in 1991-93 and 1996-98.

Next, I covered the Chicago Rush, when it won the 2006 Arena Football League

championship. Then Saturday, the Slaughter's win enabled me to enjoy a tie, of sorts,

with Jackson, who, two weeks ago, won his NBA-record 10th NBA title when the Los

Angeles Lakers beat the Orlando Magic to win their fourth title under him.

What a proud milestone!

But on tomorrow (Tuesday, June 30), I will celebrate a milestone much prouder

and more profound than my being the lead beat man covering 10 championships won

by Chicago pro sports teams. I will celebrate my 41st wedding anniversary with my

wife and high school sweetheart, Joyce.

Thank you Jesus!!!!!!!

Yes, it was 41 years, two deceased infant twin sons, three living daughters, two

deceased fathers, three deceased brothers, one deceased sister, seven surgeries, five

grandchildren, 10 jobs and 155 pounds ago (all totals cumulative) that Joyce and I

married each other at 3125 North 29th St., Kansas City, Kan., a modest, wooden-frame,

three-bedroom house in which her family has lived for some 50 years and where her

mother, Mrs. Emma Wooten-Searcy, 87, still stubbornly lives to this very day.

We didn't have a lavish church wedding because neither we nor our parents

could afford one. Neither did we see the need for one or for any reception afterward.

We spent our first night in a Kansas City (Mo.) hotel that no longer stands, then spent

our honeymoon in Denver and Estes Park, Colo., and we're still married and in love.

We first met each other in the spring of 1961 at Sumner High School in Kansas

City. Kan. I was a senior and she was a sophomore. At that time, she weighed about

70 pounds and I weighed roughly 140 pounds. Boy, were we slim and slender in those

days! But over the course of time, good living and having and raising children can

round out the world's most svelte lovers.

I thank God for my wife and for the longevity of our marriage. Strong, long

marriages are part of my family's tradition. My mother, Sarah Loraine Sanders-Banks,

and my father, Rev. A. D. Banks, Sr., were married for some 26 years before the death

of my mother ended it when I was 11. My oldest sister, Mrs. Maude Lee Burrell, was

married to her childhood sweetheat, N. L. Burrell, for 47 years before she died in 2001.

My next oldest sister, Lue Kuicious Banks-Brown, has been married to her childhood

sweetheart, Sylvester Brown, for 51 years. My younger brother, Rev. Jimmie Lee Banks,

has been married to his high school sweetheart, Alice Yates Banks, for 44 years.

Yes, we both met our future wives at the distinguished Sumner High.

Marriage isn't easy and marriage isn't always happiness and perfect agreement.

But marriage is good. The two things that have most preserved my marriage to Joyce

are our faith in God and our love for each other.

I liked Joyce the very first time I saw her. As usual, she and her late brother, Roscoe,

Jr., came to school earlier than everybody else every morning because her father drove

them there on his way to work. I arrived early only because, as Sumner's student council

president, I was invited to attend a Kiwannis Club breakfast with other school officers

and we were to arrive early to be taken to the breakfast by a school administrator.

Joyce radiated the beauty of an angel and I liked her, not necessarily loved her,

from the first time I saw her because I thought she was so, so pretty. I introduced

myself to her and shortly thereafter tried to be her boyfriend. But when she refused to

say much when I'd call her on the telephone, I told her I was quitting her and didn't

want to be bothered anymore because I felt that her refusal to say much meant that she

really didn't like me. What stupid me failed to realize, however, was that she was very,

very shy and that she had never had a boyfriend before or had even ever been kissed.

But a couple of weeks after I quit her, she skipped lunch on day and waited in the

hallway outside my history class, taught by Mr. Edward Beasley. She had two very

important questions to ask and a request to make.

When I came out, there she was as sweet, quiet and as pretty as could be.

"Hi," she said, rather nervously.

"Hi," I said back to her.

"Do you have a girlfriend yet?" she asked me.

"Naw," I said.

"Can I be your girlfriend," she asked.

"Yes, sure," I said.

"Then would you call me tonight?" she asked.

"Okay," I said.

She still didn't talk much. But if she hadn't come back to me, I probably would

have tried to hit on her again because she was so nice and pretty. She just beat me to

the punch. We courted each other for seven years. Since I didn't have a car, most of our

dates were on the front porch or in the living room of her home at 3125 N. 29th St.

We rode the bus to movies and to dinner at downtown cafeteria. It took us just a

couple of months to really fall in love with each another. That love has lasted to this

very day and will continue until we relocate to heaven.

Today (Monday, June 29), I have to go to the University of Chicago Hospital to

undergo tests and preparations for back surgery. Then tomorrow, my wife and I will

celebrate our anniversary.

So let me take this opportunity to say before the whole world, or at least that part

that is reading this Sun-Times blog online: I love you Joyce and happy 41st wedding

anniversary baby.

God bless you all.

Today, Father's Day, is set aside to honor me and all the other fathers of

the world.

I'm proud and thankful to be a father. I'm even prouder and more thankful to

be a husband.

I owe both of these blessing to two sources: God and my wife Joyce. I love

my Lord and I love my wife dearly and shall forever do so.

As I continue to undergo God's healing in my battles with a brain tumor,

prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure, my greatest earthly

sources of strength and support come from being both a good husband and a good

father.

Now, bear in mind that I was a husband to Joyce first before she made a

daddy out of me. And being old school, I still believe that that's the way things

should be. Couples should get married before they have children.

But I can't blame the women for this growing discrepancy. Most women

want to get married before they have children and want to stay married during and

after raising those children.

Unfortunately, we men increasingly have been messing things up.

Especially in my race. No woman on the face of the earth has done more

for her man and her children and gotten less reward, less respect and less

appreciation for it than the black woman. That's because too many of us black men

want to use our women as meal tickets, sex toys and punching bags.

It pains me Sunday after Sunday and church service after church service

to stand behind the lectern in the pulpit and preach to a congregation that is 80

percent women, who are 90 percent single mothers.

Don't get me wrong, now. I'm not saying that we black men have a monopoly

on mistreating women because in every race there are low-down men who

mistreat women. There are still cultures that deny women basic human rights and

treat them as third-class citizens and even slaves, which is an abomination.

But I believe there is more personal mistreatment of women in my race

than anywhere else because we have more single mothers running our

households, we have more women being violently abused and we have deadbeat

dads in obscene abundance.

Happy Father's Day?

Yes, but only because of loving, dedicated, hard-working mothers.

Obviously, there'd be no fathers in a motherless world. But there is an

increasing population of mothers whose babies' daddies don't want to be

husbands. They want to play the field. They want every woman they meet to

be a virgin when they are nothing near the same. It's a shame. It's a shame. It's a

low-down dirty shame. Too many men want to pimp, skimp and limp their way

through life.

A good father is a husband first. A good father loves his wife and children. A

good father works hard to support them. A good father is right there with the mother

raising those kids together in bad times and good times. A good father stands his watch

when baby is sick or needs feeding or needs a diaper change. A good father disciplines

his children and loves and respects their mother in full view of them. A good father prays

with his children and takes them to church. A good father lives his life in a way that makes

his children proud and happy to call him "daddy." A good father will sacrifice even his

life for the safety and welfare of his family. A good father never quits being a good

father.

I thank God that I'm blessed. My wife Joyce and I have been married now 41

years on the 30th of this month. We started out as high school sweethearts at

Sumner High School in Kansas City, Kan. We courted for seven years before we

got married. During our four years of engagement, we had a joint savings

and checking account in preparation for marriage.

Few couples even court anymore. Driven by lust, greed, immaturity and

irresponsibility, too many young people rush into bed with one another and rush

even faster into a marriage doomed from the start because they really didn't love

each other and because they lacked the faith, discipline and hard work to make

a marriage work.

I am so thankful to Joyce for putting up with me for so long. She has been,

I really believe, a much better wife than I have been a husband. She has never

lied to me, has always loved and been true to me, has done whatever she could

to make me happy, has supported me in everything worthwhile I've ever

endeavored to do and has made me the primary focus of her life behind our

savior Jesus Christ.

Can I say the same about me? No, sisters and brothers, I can't. I have not

been a perfect husband. Yes, me, Rev. Lacy J. Banks, a baptist preacher for

56 years, I have not been a perfect husband to her as she has been a perfect

wife to me.

But I have been a perfect father. I love my three daughters Nicole Cherice-

Roxann Chapman, Noelle Victoria-Renee Banks and Natasha Sarah-Lorraine

Banks with all my heart. I am also thankful to Joyce for her effort to bear me twin

sons before she miscarried and they died of premature birth. One was still-born

and the other lived a day and died. We both still cry occasionally, especially Joyce,

over the memory of losing them and the agony of wondering what might have

been.

I have given my daughters a Christian upbringing. I have always been there

for them when they needed help. I have sheltered them from premature adulthood.

I made a good education a top priority for them and my wife and I fulfilled our

dreams of making sure each got a college degree before either marrying or getting

pregnant. My daughters have disappointed me many times. But my wife has

seldom disappointed me. Quite frankly, I believe she deserves somebody better.

So I am immensely grateful that she is doing me a favor to continue being my

pride and joy and letting me be her husband.

To all you mothers of the world, I wish and pray you joy and happiness with

your children, grandchildren and great grand-children. But I also wish and pray

for you to have a loving, faithful, hard-working (or at least willing-to-work or

seeking-to-work) husband be your side to cherish and support you as I cherish

and support my wife.

I am blessed to have a wonderful Christian, hard-working, faithful and loving

son-in-law in Larry Chapman. He and Nicole have been married for 15 years

now (thank you Jesus) and are the proud loving parents of two girls and two

boys, whom they are raising diligently in the Christian doctrine.

I wish Noelle and Natasha will be equally blessed to know the marital

bliss that their mother and I have enjoyed for 41 years. But although the pickings

are slim, the Lord is able. So I will not lose hope. But I also thank God that they

realize it is better to be alone and happy, than married and miserable.

God bless you.

Pull up a chair, if you will, and let me praise, preach and thank the Lord with you for

a moment. And if you are not too busy Wednesday and Thursday nights, June 17 and

June 18, join me in revival at the Community Covenant Church 12446 South Loomis,

where Dr. Mark Thompson is the dynamic pastor.

My latest praise report is the continued lowering of my PSA, which tells me that

God's healing of my prostate cancer is in continued progress because the disease is in

progressive remission.

Get back, cancer!!! Get back!!! Get up off of me and get on out of me!!! Be gone

from my midst, in the mighty and magical name of King Jesus!!! By the power of the

Holy Ghost and by the grace of almighty God, I claim victory over mine infirmities and

over your infirmities, my blogreaders, in the name of Jesus and under the anointed

authority of our faith.

The final result of my blood work during my May 28 visit with Dr. Allen Anderson, my

cardiologist at the University of Chicago Medical Center, included the report that my PSA

is now down to 1.01, a marked improvement from my February reading of 2.01. My good

friend Eugene and the Kizart brothers (David, Milton and nephew Clay), Samuel, Andre,

Joseph, David, George and Jacqueline are all happy about this.

Hallelujah!!!!

Ain't God good!!!!!

First, the tumor on my brain was ruled benign a year ago. Now, my prostate cancer

is dissolving more and more toward oblivion.

It's unfortunate that my heart is no better. I'm still an end-stage congestive heart

failure patient, needing a heart transplant. It's still very, very weak. Its pumping efficiency

has been rated at 19 percent and less. But I am blessed and fortunate that it isn't worse.

Right?

Praise the Lord for every little bit more of His grace and mercy trickling down on me.

In my smackdown with death, that ol' despicable grim reaper, God is giving me the

victory. That gives me continued cause to sing,

"Victory is mine.

Victory is mine.

Victory today is mine.

I told Satan, 'Get thee behind me.'

Victory today is mine."

If God is likewise blessing you in your battle with whatever health issue or adversity,

why don't you join in with the rest of us redeemed with our healings in progress and sing,

"Victory is mine. Victory is mine. Victory today is mine. I told Satan, 'Get thee behind me.'

Victory today is mine."

Praise the Lord!

I want to thank all of my blogreaders for your continued prayers and support. You

are a great part of the reason why I am not just still holding onto God's unchanging hand,

but that my overall health issue, including a bad back, is slowly getting better .

I know that, for my enemies, I am not dying fast enough.

Neither are you.

If our enemies had their way, you and I would have been dead a long time ago. Am I

right about it, Gwen, Donna, John, Connie, Carrol, Natasha, Tomas, Mary, Cheryl, Darrell,

Gregory, Henry, Tommie, Jimmie, Veryunca, Flossie, Spencer, Maria, Patricia, Bill,

Wardella, Marsea and the rest of y'all? I just had to give a shout out to all y'all.

Am I right and ain't God good?

But while we're not dying fast enough for our enemies, we're dying slow enough

for our friends. Moreover, we're dying slower than a lot of people who presently are

younger, healthier and wealthier than we are. One does not have to be sick or old or

both to die.

Once more, am I right about it?

Yes, we are in a smackdown with death just like our dear departed loved ones were.

A smackdown with debts.

A smackdown with sickness.

A smackdown with unemployment and economic hardship.

A smackdown with divers temptations.

A smackdown with doubt, despair, depression and disaster.

A smackdown with all manner of evil.

But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord. For

greater is He who is within you and me than he that is within the world.

Yes, we may have to suffer sometimes. But we have the victory.

Our burdens may get heavy and our souls may feel dreary and weary. But we have

the victory.

We may have to cry, drink tears for water and toss and turn all night in beds of

affliction, sometimes. But we have the victory.

Our friends may desert us and our enemies may outnumber us and even seem, at

times, to have the upper hand. But weep not. Be encouraged. Take heart and be

thankful. For whereas weeping may endure for a night or two or even three sometimes,

joy cometh in the morningtime and we shall gain the victory.

So, keep on praying, trusting and believing in God, because our God is an awesome

God.

God bless you.

I saw my cardiologist, Dr. Allen Anderson, on Thursday at the University of Chicago

Medical Center. My wife, Joyce, accompanied me.

"I am pleasantly surprised," Dr. Anderson said, after carefully listening to my heart

through his stethoscope, and after his nurse had given him my blood pressure reading of

98 over 68. "You're doing better than you were earlier this year when you were here in the

hospital (March 12-17). Obviously, you are doing a better job of taking care of yourself. I

can't see any reason why you shouldn't be able continue the way you are indefinitely and

stay on your present medications."

And as for that death sentence, when he and other doctors felt my chances of

living out the year were slim if I did not have a Heartmate II ILVAD pump implanted

to replace my defective and failing left ventricle in pumping blood throughout my body?

"We can't really say how long you can live without that pump," Dr. Anderson said.

"Your heart is still weak and the pump will still help you tremendously. But we don't like to

give out any numbers regarding how long you can do without it."

Well, no way will I give myself any credit for any improvement or for the fact I at

least haven't gotten worse. My wife deserves some of the credit for doing her best to try

to take care of me. She is my primary caregiver. I also have to give credit to you prayer

partners, who have been touching and agreeing with me on the desires of my heart for

a total healing of my end-staged congestive heart failure, my prostate cancer and my

brain tumor, which has been ruled benign. This healing journey is 13 months old now.

But the real credit, the thanksgiving and the glory belongs to my Lord. On my own,

I am not even worthy to still be alive today if my life was based on moral merit or on my

eating right, exercising everyday, losing excess weight and keeping my mind stayed on

Jesus 24/7.

My sicknesses have exposed primal weaknesses and desperation in me. I have

been occasionally harassed by a mild fear of dying. But it is very, very mild because my

soul is anchored in the Lord. My desire to live is far, far stronger than my fear of dying.

And my desire to live has been tremendously rejuvenated by God through His grace,

through the stripes of our crucified Christ, through the power of God's Holy Ghost and

through the love of my wife and others.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not yet totally healed. My heart is still weak. It is not

pumping my blood efficiently at all. My mitral valve is still defective. My left ventricle is

still grossly enlarged or dilated. I still get shortness of breath if I exert myself too much

physically. I still have a very sore lower back problem that prohibits me from walking or

standing more than a few minutes without pain despite my having received two

epidural cortisone shots within the last five weeks.

Occasional mental fatigue resulted in my having my first auto accident in about 30

years three weeks ago. I was dozing in rush hour traffic on I-294 south and rear-

ended another motorist resulting in thousands of dollars of damages. But thank God

that nobody was injured.

I am still deeply depressed over my middle daughter, Noelle, a single mother and

a devout Christian, losing her job and facing the prospect of losing her home, taking her

son Caleb out of a private Christian school and moving in with us when her unemployment

runs out if she can't find another suitable job soon.

The Chicago Sun-Times, for which I have worked 37 years, has declared

bankruptcy and we employees have taken a nine percent pay cut and agreed to take

eight days off without pay to avoid additional layoffs and to help our paper survive these

turbulent, tough times of our nation's woefully ailing economy. i the process, a lot of

good people were released into the growing multitude of the unemployed.

But thank God that I'm still holding on.

Thank God that my wife and I still have our jobs after seeing so many co-workers

and loved ones lose theirs.

Thank God that we still have some decent health insurance.

Thank God that we still have a home to live in, cars to drive, food to eat and clothes

to wear.

Thank God that we still have a reasonable portion of functional, enjoyable health,

despite some aches and pains and serious sicknesses.

Thank God that we still have sense enough to say "Thank you, Jesus!!" because

if it had not been for the Lord on our side, where would I be? Where would you be?

Where would we be?

Most of all, thank God for Jesus!!!

And right now, I'm still on life support in terms of depending upon God's grace and

leaning on the everlasting arm of Christ Jesus.

Just because I got a good report Thursday and just because that medical death

sentence has been retrieved does not guarantee me that I will still live out this year, this

month, this week, this day or this hour.

Is anybody listening to me out there?

Can any of you declare unequivocally that you will survive this very day regardless

of how young you are, how strong you are, how good you feel or how great a report

your doctor gives you?

No, you can not. So-called healthy folk still drop dead of instant heart attacks after

allegedly never having been sick a day in their lives. Or we could die at the hands of

other humans or through some accident or natural catastrophe.

So, again, I want to take this time to say "Thank you, Jesus," and say it in front of

the world. All that I have and the best that I have ever been and ever hope to be, I owe

it all to my Jesus. He died for me on Calvary. He shed His blood as a remission for my

sins. And because I believe His gospel, I am redeemed in my spirit even though I am

dying in my flesh, as we all are, day in and day out.

I'm just glad that I have life beyond this life and a home beyond this home. I am so

glad that I know Jesus as my savior. I am so glad at how He has preserved the

Sun-Times down through the years, where we went to owner to owner and naysayers

counted us down and out again and again and again. I thank God for good people to

work for and good people to work with.

I pray that God blesses you one and all, my dear readers. I pray for the rest of you

who are hurting in some way or another. Times are going to get far tougher in our nation

than they already are because of bad leadership in the past and continued political

corruption to this very day. Good, hard-working, innocent people are going to be

destroyed economically. And many of us who have are going to have to share with the

have-nots.

Meantime, I just thank God that I'm still alive and that I have the blessed assurance,

like Job, that I know that I know that I know that MY REDEEMER LIVETH!!!!

I KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVETH!!!!

And I thank God that I'm still alive to scream it to the highest heavens to anybody

who cares to know.

God bless you.

Yeah, I had a fight with doubt the other day. It kept messing with me. So I had to

cuss it out and kick its butt.

Every now and then, every child of God has to fight the good fight of faith and fight

against the principalities of evil. And one of their chief imps is doubt.

As children of God, we are ordained and anointed to walk by faith and not by sight.

Sometimes, sight gets in the way of our blessings. Sometimes, sight leads to fright, which

triggers flight. Sometimes, we freak out over what we see. And when we stop believing

God and start doubting because of what we see or what some naysayer said, it puts us in

hot water with the Lord. And believe me, you don't want to be in hot water with the Lord.

If you don't believe me, then ask Nimrod, ask Pharoah, ask Belshazzar, ask

Nebuchadnezzar or Jezebel or Ahab or Zimri.

Without faith, it is IMPOSSIBLE, read my writing, IMPOSSIBLE!!! to please God.

For he that cometh to God must believe that He is. Yes, first and foremost, before you

get to the unequivocal litany of facts like He IS a doctor in a sick room, He IS a lawyer in

a court room, He IS a bridge over troubled water, He IS a rock in a weary land, He IS a

shelter in the time of storm, etc. Just believe that HE IS.

Yes, God IS. He just IS. For no particular reason. He IS.

God IS. And within the ISNESS of almighty God lies the totality of reality. Thank

you sweet Jesus, rock of my salvation and savior of my soul!

When God called Moses for a job interview on top of Mt. Sinai, the other day, told

him to take off his shoes and socks because the ground he was standing on and the

God he was standing before were too holy for him to be shodded, then spoke to him

through a burning bush and hired him to become the great emancipation instrument for

Israel's exodus out of Egyptian bondage, Moses asked for God's credentials.

Moses felt that once he'd stand before great, big, ol', mean Pharoah and tell him,

"God said to let my people go," that Pharoah would want to know who God was.

So Moses asked God, "Whom shall I say sent me when Pharoah asks me who

You are?"

Well, if you read the same bible I read, you will see where God said in Exodus 3:14,

"Tell him that I am sent you."

And just in case we still want to know who "I am" is, God simply broke it down even

more by saying, "I am that I am."

Yes, God Is. We must believe that He is. And once believing that He is, we can

take it just a little bit further. Among the many, many things that He is, He first and

foremost is a rewarder of them that dilligently seek Him.

That's why, brothers and sisters (and by now it should be apparent to you that

Rev. Lacy J. Banks has sneaked up on you preaching), we are compelled to tell every

sinner man, woman, boy and girl, "Seek ye that Lord, while He may be found. Call ye

upon Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the ungodly man his

thoughts and turn unto the Lord. For He will (if we dare repent and ask for mercy)

abundantly pardon."

So I had a fight with doubt, that dastardly chump of a tramp. He dared to invade

my mind with sayings like, "What's taking you so long to die, Banks?" and "If God ain't

healed you by now, don't you know that he ain't goin' to heal you?" and "Man, don't you

feel like a fool praying and praying and blogging and blogging and waiting and waiting

and you still sick and in pain?" and "Aren't you afraid that by going public with your blog

that you are going to end up looking like a fool when God doesn't heal you soon?"

Yeah, these are some of the thoughts that doubt sent knocking on the door of my

sub-conscience. Yeah, there was doubt up to its old tricks again, trying to conquer my

soul, trying to steal my joy, trying to strangle my hope and trying to get me to give in,

give out and give up.

But I knew who doubt was imping for. He was simply serving as an evil emissary

for the devil. So I went ghetto on him. And anybody who knows ghetto anger, knows that

ghetto anger can get mighty fierce because of the mess we have to fight against to stay

alive can be pretty strong. So we fight strength with strength, flesh with flesh and spirit

with spirit.

God wants us to be well, but the devil wants us to be sick.

God wants us to live. That's why He sent and gave Jesus to die that we might live.

But the Devil wants us dead.

God wants us to be happy. The devil wants us to be sad.

Doubt tried to corner Christ Jesus in the wilderness after He had prayed and fasted

for 40 days and 40 nights. Doubt tried to get Jesus to serve Satan and perform tricks and

miracles at Satan's behest.

But each time, Satan tried to slug Jesus, Jesus blocked Satan's punches, bobbed

and weaved and then counter-punched Satan punch-drunk with the Word of God. Then

when Satan started really getting on Jesus' nerves and Jesus got sick and tired of the

devil's mess, Jesus told Satan, "Get behind me." In other words, Jesus told Satan in

modern street lingo, "Man, you'd betta get the heck out of my face! I ain't playin' witchu

now! You betta leave me 'lone 'fo' I hurt you!"

Satan was cruising for a bruising and Jesus bruised him up real good.

And so it is that I also had to tell doubt to get out of my face and leave me alone. I

had to hit Satan and his doubt upside their heads and punch them out with the word of

God. It is the same with you, my sisters and brothers of the Kingdom of God. Sometimes,

we have to stop being so nice to Satan. Sometimes, we not only have to put out feet

down, but take one foot and kick Satan in his butt. For we are winners and not whinners.

For we are more than conquerers. Thank you, Jesus! I said, and hear me real good, we

are more than conquerers through Christ Jesus. And we ought to act more like it more

often.

As redeemed children of God, we don't have to take any of the devil's mess any

more. As redeemed children of the most high Lord God Jehovah, we don't have take any

lip from Lucifer, any more. Naw, baby, we are more than conquerers through Christ Jesus.

We are a chosen generation and a royal priesthood and a holy nation. And we can do all

things through Christ, who strengthens us. So thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory

through Jesus Christ our Lord. For greater is He that is within you and me than he that is

within the world.

So I had to tell the devil to get behind me. I had to put my hands on my hips and

lash Lucifer with my lips and let him know in no uncertain terms that I join Job in

vowing, "I believe I'll wait until my change comes......For I know that my redeemer liveth.....

and though He slay me yet will I trust Him"

Yeah, I had to give doubt a piece of my mind which I got from Christ Jesus in the

first place because I let the mind that is in Jesus be in me. I'm talking about Jesus Christ,

the author and the finisher of the very faith I need to please God and the very faith that I

need to wield power over the devil.

Too many of us let the devil get away with too much in our lives. Too many of us let

the devil punk us around and whimp us out. Too many of us allow ourselves to be

intimidated, manipulated, humiliated and annihilated by the devil and his demons. And

here we are packing power to defeat the devil and keep him at bay. Here we have at our

disposal the instant heavenly deployment of angels, who have charge over us to

deliver us from evil. But oh what peace we often forfeit and oh what needless pains we

bear? All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.

So I had to tell the devil to shut up and get somewhere and sat his butt down, and

to stop messing with me before I hurt him. Yes, you and I have the power to hurt hell

with the word of God. But we must believe the word, speak the word and do the word.

I know the Lord is going to heal me one way or another, somehow or other, sooner

or later. I know that He is healing me now. Though I sometimes will have some bad

days, my good days outnumber my bad days. My pluses outnumber my minuses. My

victories are overwhelming my defeats.

So no matter how long it takes, I am going to wait upon the Lord and be of good

courage and He is already strengthening my heart. I'm going to wait upon the Lord. For

they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings

of eagles, they shall run and not be weary and they shall walk and not faint.

So wait on Him! Wait on the Lord with me, please! Wait, I say, upon the Lord!

God bless you.