Mickey's Fight
A Family’s Battle to Save their Son from Cancer
by
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“I’m Doctor Hoover,” he says extending his hand. I shake it and introduce myself. He directs my attention to the monitor showing a CT image of my son. Pointing to the left abdomen area, he says, “See this mass right here, it’s a tumor. We’re going to take this out tomorrow.” He continues to talk, but I can’t tell you what he said. I couldn’t do anything but stare at that scan. I pray you will never know that feeling. It’s indescribable. With a few words, this doctor managed to punch me in the gut and take my breath away. With just a short string of syllables, he was able to reach into my chest, squeeze my heart, and stop it from beating for a moment. “It’s a tumor,” the words echo inside my head. Time seemed to stop at first. What? Did he just say what I think he said? Not my son, not my four-year-old sweet, little boy. That has to be somebody else’s scan. There must be some mistake. We were just having a “Royal Boys Night” out yesterday. He starts summer vacation in a couple of days. We’re hitting the drive-in to see “Jurassic World” this weekend. Then the reality hits. It’s like the world stopped for a moment so it can wind up and bring its full weight crashing down on me. It shook me to my very soul. I hold my composure and everything I feel inside because my other two boys are standing right next to me. I keep a solid face because I see my wife standing there about to lose it. She and I have to stay strong in front of our kids. If one of us cracks, we’d both turn into a pile of mush. We hold it together long enough for the nurses to offer to watch our boys while we go into a separate room to do what we need to. The door barely closes and my wife collapses. I hold her while she sobs, every ounce of her shaking like it wasn’t possible for the tears to come out fast enough. My eyes water up, but I stay composed for the moment. We balance each other well. When one of us is weak, the other stays strong. After getting it out, we make our phone calls. I break down a bit talking to my mom and sisters. Rachel loses it again telling her family and Mickey’s teacher. When we finish and think we’re able to function enough to return to our boys, I lose it. I lose it big time. The tears don’t stop. I throw a full-on fit. I pick up furniture, punch walls, and throw things. Then, I get on my knees and do the one thing we’re not supposed to do, I question God. Why is this happening? Why my innocent child, my Mickey? Why would you do this to me? I've always believed. Yes, I’m not perfect, but Mickey is. “WHY NOT ME?” No, I don’t say this in my head. It’s a loud, one-sided conversation. I had a moment of extreme weakness; my faith was shaken.
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About the Book
I wasn’t dreaming; I was visiting. I had a unicorn race with Jesus, Mary, and Jesus’ dad. Mick’s father, Mark, was stunned to hear the words from his son, who was battling cancer. He posted the story on Facebook—allowing people to intimately step inside their lives. After his son’s diagnosis, Mark had doubts and was even angry, but God stood close to him and led his family across the country seeking treatments banned in some places. Jesus gave him and his wife, Rachel, the strength to do whatever it took to save their boy. The Macholls’ need to help their son also ignited a desire to promote change and educate the world about the ineffectiveness of conventional medicine versus integrative care. They seek to spark a movement that will give parents a choice and provide hope after a grim diagnosis. The stakes for Mark and Rachel couldn’t be higher: their young son’s life. With candor, they share the ups and downs they went through during a struggle that ultimately brought them closer to God—and each other.