I was living in California at the time when I received a phone call from my Mom in December 2004. She told me that my brother was very sick and that I needed to fly home quickly. She started to cry and told me that they were not sure about how much time he had. He was probably going to die. I found a empty seat on a plane and flew to Boston in less than 12 hours.
My brother was being treated at well-known hospital in Boston for "viral meningitis" with secondary encephalitis. At least this is what my family was told anyways. We later learned that the hospital didn't quite know what he had, but that they had to give it a name that was found in their medical textbooks. How do I know this? My Dad cornered one of the doctors and demanded information. The doctor simply told him that there are well over 1,000 unknown viruses out there that make their way down from Canada and my brother had one of them. The other doctors were furious with this doctor for telling my Dad this. To this day, I wonder if his career is over.
I will begin with telling you the events that unfolded. He became ill in September of 2004 and went to the emergency room of a local hospital. He was complaining of a stiff neck and massive headache. They simply gave him some Tylenol and sent him on his way. This all happened after he returned from a weekend of partying in Las Vegas.
Over the next 3 months he was in and out of different hospitals. He kept taking a turn for the worse after being released. In the meantime, there were numerous MRIs, labs done on his blood, spinal taps, and so on. Nobody could figure out what was wrong.
He finally became so bad that my parents brought him to a well-known healing ministry in Boston. My brother was so sick that he could not even walk or talk. My parents had to carry him up to the alter to be prayed over. The Father of the ministry winked at my parents and said that he was going to be just fine.
Shortly after this, my brother was admitted yet again to the hospital. This time he was in such rough shape that they felt it would be best to have him ambulanced to larger, well-known hospital in Boston. This facility had some of the finest doctors in the country and would be able to better care for him. It was at this point that my Mom called me to fly home.
To see him in such a state was very frightening. He was a total vegetable, drooling all over himself, and not walking or speaking at all. He didn't even know that you were there. He had tubes and wires all over the place. For some reason though, within a few days a strange peace came over me. I just knew that he was going to be o.k. My Mom sensed this and she began to feel better too.
The doctors tested him for everything (his final hospital bill totalled well over $1 million dollars!). They didn't have any answers for us at first (before the bogus viral meningitis diagnosis). They did detect lesions in many areas of his brain. Every possible medication that you can think of was given to him and nothing seemed to be working. One particular medication comes to mind called "Acyclovir". One of the nurses accidentally hooked up his IV incorrectly and the medicine began pooling on his skin. It literally burned through several layers and left him with permanent scarring. At the same time my Dad was trying different things too. He was feeding my brother a macrobiotic diet, which was very difficult to do because my brother had no swallowing capabilities. He also began massaging his feet (practicing Reflexology). There were other things tried too, which I really cannot recall.
Amazingly, my brother began to show signs of improvement. He slowly began to start mumbling words and begin walking. The doctors could not believe their eyes. This was a man that was not expected to live. He was still very confused, but he was slowly coming out of it. I will never forget - my brother, well over 200 lbs., telling me that he had to leave the hospital because there was a "party" that he could not miss (he just said the word party and I knew what he meant because he was trying to find the stairs)! We literally had to hold him down and restrain him to prevent him from leaving the hospital to go to this "imaginery party".
On Christmas Eve my brother spoke his first sentence. My Dad had brought in pastries from Mike's Pastries in Boston (yum). My brother began crying and when we asked him what was wrong he exclaimed through tear-filled eyes, "Mike's Pastries!" We all laughed and from that moment on just knew that he was going to be o.k. The Doctor's called him the "Christmas Miracle".
He spent several months in therapy. He had to re-learn all of the most basic skills - how to write, read, walk, and talk. There was much improvement in all areas. When his therapy was completed, the doctors wanted him to come back for further assessment on the damage to his brain. He never did go back. There are problems to this day in the area of memory though.
It wasn't until last year that I began to suspect vaccines were to blame. I began reading articles by Dr. Russell Blaylock, who is a retired neurosurgeon. He has found that these live-virus vaccines can lay dormant in one's body, mutate, and later emerge even more deadly than before. Certain environmental factors may trigger it too. I thought back to my brother. He had shown signs of vaccine-damage in childhood. He later joined the Coast Guard and received countless more vaccines. In fact, he left the Coast Guard just 2 years prior to developing this mysterious illness that almost cost him his life. When he was in the hospital, the U.S. Center for Infectious Disease Control became involved and they had no other reported cases that were similiar to my brother's. They traced his steps in the previous months and could not give us any answers. It all started to make sense.