The optimism and excitement author Joseph K. Davis and his wife, Darlene, shared in the birth of their firstborn son, Joseph Davis II, quickly turned into fear and uncertainty in January of 2000. They received the news that he had been born with life-threatening sickle-cell anemia, a genetic blood disorder characterized by red blood cells that assume an abnormal, rigid, sickle shape. The Davis family was prepared to do anything they could to help their little boy. In The Secret Is Out, Davis shares the family's experience dealing with their son's debilitating and potentially fatal illness and how little Joseph survived after undergoing a cord blood stem cell transplant. The story sheds light on this miracle of science that was once considered to be an experimental procedure, but has now-partly with their family's help-become an effective, internationally recognized form of treatment for a host of ailments once thought incurable. The Secret Is Out tells a true story of the courageous and bold perseverance of one family in the fight to save their son.
The Secret Is Out
Cord Blood Stem CellsBy Joseph K. DavisiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Joseph K. Davis
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4759-1609-6Contents
Foreword................................................................................ixIntroduction............................................................................xiChapter One: Separations, Reunions, and My Childhood Sweetheart.........................1Chapter Two: Marriage, Music, and Our First Tragedy.....................................6Chapter Three: Renewed Hope.............................................................9Chapter Four: More Than the Usual Labor Pains...........................................15Chapter Five: A Most Miraculous Arrival.................................................19Chapter Six: Welcoming Little Joseph and Unwelcome News.................................23Chapter Seven: Sickle-Cell Crisis Number One............................................27Chapter Eight: The Pain and Agony Return................................................31Chapter Nine: A Vicious Cycle and the Procedure That Could Break It.....................34Chapter Ten: Faith the Size of a Mustard Seed...........................................39Chapter Eleven: The End of a Long Search................................................42Chapter Twelve: Secret Weapon...........................................................46Chapter Thirteen: Spreading the Good News...............................................50Afterword...............................................................................53About the Author........................................................................55
Chapter One
Separations, Reunions, and My Childhood Sweetheart
Growing up in Dumas, Arkansas, was a great time in my life. My parents worked hard to guide their three sons—Edward (the oldest), Jerry (the next), and me (the "baby")—to become respectful, mature, and trustworthy young gentlemen. Although we weren't considered wealthy by any means, our family was rich in the love we shared and showed to each other.
My neighborhood was filled with other children our age, many of whom I am glad to still call my friends. Playing games like football, baseball, and basketball with them and with my brothers was always exciting and fun. We'd played basketball on the "dirt courts," which left each participant filthy, but that was half the fun as I recall, especially if your team won.
I enjoyed playing kickball the most, sending the ball as hard and far as I could and sometimes even getting a home run. I usually played center field on defense. If the ball came within a country mile of my position, the kicker knew that dependable Joseph would make the play. But I guess the most important reason I loved playing kickball was because it was during a kickball game that I first laid eyes on my lovely Darlene.
I must have been about eleven or twelve years old at the time. Darlene was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was not only pretty, but also had an inner beauty to match. She also had a calming effect on everyone. When arguments erupted during games, she would always stand on the side of fairness, no matter the situation or consequences. She was an advocate for honesty and fairness. Those qualities alone made me want to be near her as much as possible, or to at least be known as her "close friend."
I was fortunate enough to see Darlene on almost a daily basis after we first "officially" met. She and my cousin, Audrey, were classmates and best friends. I would get the inside scoop whenever the two visited each other or made plans of any sort, and I would always "unexpectedly" show up at Audrey's house or wherever they were going.
(Later on, I discovered that Darlene had anticipated my serendipitous arrivals and actually enjoyed my tagging along. Although I could never gain enough nerve to tell her how much I admired her, I think she somehow knew.)
My persistence in being at the right place at the right time was beginning to pay off. However, just as Darlene and I were beginning to become "childhood sweethearts," my dearest friend dropped a bomb on me—she told me that her family was moving away to Jena, Louisiana.
I was crushed beyond words. When Darlene left about a week after telling me the bad news, I actually cried because I thought I would never see her again. But to my surprise and delight, Darlene returned to Dumas for visits from time to time. She still had family members there after she left for Louisiana.
Darlene often returned for the holiday seasons. Although we had been separated by distance, it appeared that our hearts stayed in sync. Our growing affection, mutual respect, and desire to be together became more evident with each visit. We would talk for hours just to catch up on what was happening with each other. Even though I never knew exactly when and if Darlene was coming back to Arkansas, I always looked forward to seeing her. Whenever she did, my heart sang.
Meanwhile, Mom and Dad had reared three sons who had achieved moderate success during their school-age years. Edward and Jerry had graduated from Dumas High School and had gone on to attend college at the University of Arkansas. I, as expected, chose to follow.
The only clear drawback was the fact that I would now be farther away from my best friend in the whole world, Darlene—who had now blossomed into a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. Nonetheless, I left the carefree country life of Dumas for "hog country." But I soon found out that college life and an education and a career as an industrial engineer were not for me, and my first-semester marks reflected that fact.
Prior to attending college, I had graduated from Dumas High in 1981 as a proud member of the National Honor Society. I was fortunate enough to receive a tuition scholarship for achieving an exceptional score on the college entrance exam. But schoolwork in an area of study that didn't suit me well, along with financial hardships, proved to be my undoing.
Struggling to obtain the necessary books and supplies in time had placed me at a disadvantage from the very start. The workload was also something of a surprise. I had never needed to study much in preparing for my high school courses and found myself forced to learn how to do so on the fly. Needless to say, I failed miserably. I felt lost and out of place.
That was when I remembered a meeting I had had with an army recruiter prior to my high school graduation. During the meeting, the recruiter had informed me of the numerous benefits army service offered; discipline and money for education, both of which I needed plenty of, had been major points of interest. I decided I would leave college and join the US Army.
I completed my basic and career training at Fort McClellan, Alabama. Afterward, I was sent to Fort Lewis in Washington State. As luck would have it, Darlene returned permanently to Arkansas only a few short months after I began my military career. Back in Dumas, she found employment as a cable inspector for a local manufacturing company while attending college at nearby U of A at Monticello.
After I realized Darlene was back, I requested and was given "leave" (the army's term for vacation or approved time off) to visit my hometown. I actually just wanted to see Darlene. Once home, I quickly contacted her. We had a lot of catching up to do. I had not seen or spoken with Darlene for more than a year, and I was very anxious.
It was 1986 when I saw Darlene again. She looked every bit as lovely as the last time we'd met. We talked every day for hours while I was home. Unfortunately, my visit lasted only for about a week—it was much too short. But I easily surmised that our bond and mutual admiration had not been broken. When my leave ended, I returned to Fort Lewis to continue my career as a soldier, glad to have seen my friend again.
Back in Washington, my time in the army passed pretty much as it had before my leave—until I received a call from Cheryl Franklin, an old girlfriend. It was a call that would change my life forever. I was going to be a father.
Cheryl and I were childhood friends who had dated while we were in high school. We had continued seeing each other on and off whenever I returned from Fayetteville, more so just before I joined the army. However, irreconcilable differences had kept us from sustaining a lasting relationship. Nonetheless, a few months after that call, our twin girls, Nakeshia and Tikeshia, were born in St. Louis, which was, at the time, the home of their mother. As a proud father, I visited St. Louis to see the girls and their mother shortly after they were born. The twins were adorable and looked a lot like Cheryl.
After about a week of visiting, I returned to Fort Lewis. Cheryl and I continued to communicate but quickly realized that our relationship was based on our girls.
About six months later, Cheryl decided to move back to Dumas. But shortly after that, tragedy struck—my daughters' mother was brutally murdered.
The television news and newspapers in the surrounding area covered the story. According to news sources, Cheryl had apparently been struck in the head with a blunt object; her body was found a quarter mile southwest of Dumas on Red Line Road. Three men from nearby Pine Bluff were arrested and charged with her murder and were subsequently found guilty of the crime.
I requested and was given an honorable discharge from the army to take custody of my little girls. With my daughters, I moved to Lancaster, Texas.
Lancaster, a six-hour drive from Dumas, was a quiet and growing suburb of Dallas, where my brother, Jerry, had recently relocated after graduating from Texas Southern University.
Chapter Two
Marriage, Music, and Our First Tragedy
Raising daughters, let alone twins, as a single parent proved to be more difficult than I had imagined. I didn't realize just how little I knew about being a parent until I became one.
Then it came to me that I had two excellent resources available to me back in Arkansas—my mother and my best friend, Darlene. After all, they were "girls" and, thus, knew what girls liked and needed.
My mom and Darlene proved to be quite adept at child rearing. They taught me how to buy the right clothes and dress my girls like little ladies. I also learned how to improve my cooking skills and to do the girls' hair, which for me was the most difficult task of them all. I made frequent trips to Arkansas to learn invaluable advice and tips, which gave me the confidence I needed to believe that I could actually be a good father. Equally important was that these trips allowed me to see Darlene more often.
Fortunately for me, Darlene was not involved in any serious relationship at that time and had already been well acquainted with the twins prior to their mother's death. In fact, Cheryl and Darlene had been like family. Cheryl's uncle had once been married to Darlene's mother, Flossie. So Darlene and Cheryl were "cousins," not by blood but by a prior marriage.
Darlene and I spent hours talking about anything and everything each time I visited Dumas. It was understandable that a few of Cheryl's family members objected and deemed our developing relationship as inappropriate. But as Darlene and I sat and talked during one of my visits, we both began to realize that our friendship had seemingly evolved into something much more. From that point on, we decided to pursue a more personal relationship. It wasn't long before we realized we were truly meant for each other.
I will never forget the day I asked Darlene to marry me. We were talking one evening, as we always did, and I told her it was time—"time for us to go forward."
My heart was beating as it never had, for fear she may shun my sudden advances. But to my extreme joy, Darlene simply replied, "Yes, I will marry you."
We embraced each other and sealed the deal with a kiss.
The very same week I proposed, we left Arkansas and married three days later in Dallas. It was a very informal wedding, with just Darlene, me, and the justice of the peace. It was, for lack of a better term, just wonderful!
After we were married, our family spent about a year together in Lancaster before I was presented the opportunity to resume my career as a musician in the US Army. Prior to my first discharge, I had completed training at the joint service music academy in Little Creek, Virginia, and received a military occupational code of 02L, Army Saxophone Player.
My music career had actually begun in Dumas when I was a little boy of about six, at which time I was fortunate enough to become a piano student of Mr. G. W. Nash, an excellent instructor with a teaching method based on music knowledge. Under his tutelage, students' knowledge of the masters like Bach and Beethoven, along with the ability to read music, weighed much heavier than playing by ear. Then, at age twelve, I joined the local school band as a saxophone player. The years I had already spent with Mr. Nash made reading music and playing the saxophone almost second nature.
When I resumed my military career, I was basically ready to pick up where I had left off with no new or additional training necessary. I simply was given a report date and passed the time watching Darlene and the girls get to know each other better. I remember looking at them at play one time and thinking how good life was. Darlene proved to be the best thing that had ever happened to me and the girls.
It was during one of those days that Darlene told me she was expecting a baby.
I still remember her words. She simply said, "Joseph," her face breaking out into a glowing smile, "I'm going to have a baby."
There was not much of a celebration; she just calmly gave me the news. When I heard it, I was so excited. I told her that I could hardly wait and knew she would be just great. Darlene had already shown her talent as a wonderful mother with the twins. I was confident she would be the same with our new baby.
Darlene and I talked for hours about every aspect of her pregnancy, even our baby's name. If the newborn was a girl, we would name her either Lydia or Flossie, our mothers' names, respectively. We agreed that a new baby boy would carry the name Joseph, like his father. As Darlene's first pregnancy proceeded normally—or so we thought—we were filled with joy and anticipation.
About ten weeks after we began our plans for the new addition to the Davis family, something terrible and unexpected happened. Darlene lost the baby.
It's hard for me to fully understand, let alone describe, how Darlene felt after this heartbreaking event, but following the miscarriage, I could definitely see her pain and devastation—the kind of pain only a mother could feel for a lost child. And even though Darlene showed tremendous strength and resolve throughout that difficult time, I knew she felt somewhat empty and longed to be the mother of a child of her own. I also felt the loss and did all I could to reassure my wife that she was still the special woman I had fallen in love with, all the while knowing that plans for a new baby were still on her mind.
A few weeks after the loss, things around the house returned to normal. Shortly thereafter, I received my orders for reentry into the military.
Chapter Three
Renewed Hope
I became a member of the Screaming Eagle Band. My reentry site into the military was Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home of the 101st Airborne Assault Division.
Once in Kentucky, my wife and girls adjusted quite well to my civilian-to-soldier transition. During my off-duty time, we would enjoy watching movies, playing family board games, going bowling, and doing anything else we could think of to spend time together as a family. The holidays were very special to us. That was when Darlene and the twins would come to the post concerts to watch me playing saxophone with the 101st division band. It was now apparent that Darlene had finally gotten over the pain of losing what was supposed to be her first baby. Things were now back to normal. The girls also would prove to be well-adjusted "army brats."
Traveling TDY—on temporary duty assignment—was a common occurrence with the 101st division band. During TDY, the band would travel from the confines of Fort Campbell to a predetermined temporary location. The trips were usually relatively short, typically two to ten days in length. After such trips, the band would return home and be welcomed back by friends and family.
In 1995, two years after I had been assigned to the 101st, the band was invited on a very special TDY assignment—we were to play in Germany, France, and the Netherlands to commemorate the fiftieth- year observance of the end of WWII in Europe. I was excited to be part of such a momentous event, and Darlene was excited for me. Soon after receiving the assignment, the band left Fort Campbell for France. Darlene sent me off with strict instructions to have fun, visit as many famous sites as possible, and bring home "lots of goodies for the family." I assured her that I would do just that.
Visiting Europe for the first time was a wonderful experience. One of the band's first stops was beautiful Sainte-Mère-Église, France. It was a historically significant town for the part it played in the WWII Normandy landings.
The band played a concert inside a church located in the heart of the city. The acoustics were magnificent, and experiencing such historical splendor was awesome. When a local youth choir began its performance, tears filled my eyes. I never imagined how important the role of the 101st was until I saw the wondrous displays and performances in Sainte-Mère-Église.
The band was in superior form throughout the European assignment and entertained audiences as only the 101st could. Everything was wonderful, and the atmosphere was electrifying. We tried new foods and appreciated the increased camaraderie among band members. And as a whole, we truly enjoyed the opportunity to display our talents in front of our hospitable European hosts. This was truly the best assignment I could have ever hoped for. All was well until my band commander approached and said he needed to speak with me in private. He and I moved away from the rest of the band, where he went on to say that the Red Cross had contacted him in an effort to reach me.
"Why do they want me? Is anyone else needed?" I asked, all the while fearful of the reply.
"No. You were the only one requested."
My heart began to beat very fast, as I wondered why the Red Cross wanted only me.
The American Red Cross had been the nation's premier emergency response organization since its founding in 1881 by visionary leader Clara Barton. In addition to domestic disaster relief, the Red Cross offers support and comfort for military members and their families. Nonetheless, the Red Cross' involvement in military affairs usually meant that there was some type of family emergency that needed prompt attention. Therefore, being contacted by the organization was rarely a good thing. With trepidation, I dialed the number my commander gave me to call.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Secret Is Outby Joseph K. Davis Copyright © 2012 by Joseph K. Davis. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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