From the Hamilton Spectator - Dec.26th, 2004

By Sharon Boase

Every time Steven Zizzo looks in the mirror, he sees the scars that remind him he's living a favoured life. Doctors had predicted the now strapping, six-foot-two second-year med student would die when he was seven. Diagnosed with a highly aggressive, often fatal childhood cancer, Steven was given three to 12 months to live. He underwent major surgery to remove a grapefruit-size tumour from his chest. He came within a hair's breadth of undergoing a three-year round of chemotherapy before a bulky second tumour in his neck mysteriously began to shrink, then disappeared.

His parents, devout Roman Catholics, are convinced it was a miracle that saved their first-born son. While many religious folk will claim the Almighty's rescuing hand has worked a medical miracle in their lives, few are medical doctors. Fewer still are publicly paid coroners, like Dr. Richard Zizzo, Steven's devoted dad. "Steven's doctors were world experts and the chance that they were making major mistakes is pretty close to nil," says Karen Zizzo, Steven's mother. "Despite the diagnosis, things were changing day by day. Our feeling is things were changing because of the prayer that was going on."

Karen has chronicled her family's all-out spiritual battle to save Steven in a self-published book called Ask And You Shall Receive: A Miracle for Steven. Part medical drama, part scriptural reflection, the book is a testament to the power of prayer and trusting in God's will.

Neither in her book nor during a recent interview do the Zizzos reveal which Hamilton hospital or doctors were involved in Steven's care. They're not out to point fingers or name names, Karen insists, only to share an inspiring story.

"I don't want people to walk away from life-saving medical treatment because 'That Zizzo family, they did it this way and I will too,'" Richard says. That would be a terrible mistake, he says.

The doctors who had examined Steven believed he was suffering from neuroblastoma, highly malignant tumours often originating in nerve tissue in the chest or abdomen. The best prognosis is for small, primary tumours in children under five. Steven, age seven with two apparent tumours, was given no chance of survival.

Before Steven was wheeled into the operating room, his parents begged doctors for even a glimmer of hope that the surgery might somehow improve Steven's prognosis. The Zizzos had been told there was no chance the tumours were not related or that either was benign. "They gave us one chance in a 100. I told them, 'I'll take that,'" Richard recalls. After the surgery, the pediatric oncologist told Karen and Richard their son had neuroblastoma. While the diagnosis needed confirmation in the lab, the doctor told the Zizzos that their son would likely be dead in three to 12 months. Stunned into silence, the Zizzos turned to the two dozen family members assembled at the hospital and just stared. "What do we do now?" Richard's brother asked.

"We pray," Richard replied.

At that moment, one in a series of coincidences the Zizzos suspect were divine intervention occurred. Their parish priest at the time, Father Cornelius (Con) O'Mahony, walked into the room. "Let's get God to help us," O'Mahony said before leading off the prayer.

said before leading off the prayer. The Zizzos prayed like they'd never prayed before. So did their family and friends. They turned to everyone in their lives to pray for Steven, including his school, their church, two local convents, Karen's colleagues, Richard's staff and then-patients. Several interdenominational prayer chains grew out of their requests for prayers for Steven's health. Although a religious family, the Zizzos never intended to wade into the murky, controversial waters of prayer and healing. Richard, a medical man, was surrounded by peers who placed their faith in the scientific model. "You know that line," he says. "'Did you ever open up a body and find a soul?' Few believe in God or miracles."

Despite widespread skepticism, research into the healing effects of prayer and religious observances has exploded, particularly in the last decade. The National Institutes of Health in the U.S. is spending $6.2 million over two years on prayer-health links. More than 60 per cent of American medical schools now offer courses on health and spirituality. Some of the research is intriguing. For instance, a Duke University study of 150 angioplasty patients found those who were prayed for by seven prayer groups of various faiths had fewer complications following the procedure. A New Hampshire hospital study of 232 cardiac surgery patients found those who received "strength and comfort" from their faith were three times more likely to survive than those who didn't.

A San Francisco hospital study of 393 cardiac patients found those who were prayed for -- even though they had no idea anyone was praying for them -- were five times less likely to require antibiotics and six times less likely to need artificial ventilation treatment.

But there are staunch critics. Dr. Gary Posner, head of the Tampa Bay Skeptics group, says most prayer studies have been "junk science." He has a standing offer to hand over $1,000 to anyone who can demonstrate a verifiable faith healing.

New York-based Dr. Richard Sloan says studies probing the links between religious observance and health often fail to control for behavioural and genetic differences, age, sex, education and existing health status. Aside from the scientific squabbling, the issue also raises some thorny theological questions, says Dr. Thomas O'Connor, an associate clinical professor of family medicine at McMaster University who teaches a course on spirituality and healing.

"Some people who pray or who are prayed for don't get better or they die. What do you say then? That you didn't pray right?'' says O'Connor, who is also an associate professor of pastoral counselling at Waterloo Lutheran University.

"I think there's a bigger mystery here," O'Connor adds. "It's not like a cosmic vending machine where, if you put in the right prayers, you get the right answer."

It's a stumbling block scientific skeptics grapple with as well. But the Zizzos aren't stymied by theological questions. They began their prayer quest by thanking God for seven happy, healthy years with Steven. They prayed for Steven to be healed, but they also prayed for God to help them cope, come what may.

The tumour in Steven's chest was benign. The neck tumour that disappeared was never determined benign. Despite doctors recommending an aggressive three years of chemo, the Zizzos took their son home to think it over for a week or two. That's when the neck tumour began to shrink.

"At one point, I thought Steven was going to die," says Richard. "Then Karen got me to realize that we still have God and that's what started the cascade -- 'Thy will be done.'"

Steven agrees it's a miracle he is alive today. With a graduate degree in medicine under his belt, he's looking forward to a career where he will be able to help people in need.

"In medical school, you see kids who don't even make it through their first week," Steven says. "Life is so fragile."