As we changed him into a hospital gown that first day, he looked and acted so normal. Just like Parker Jensen, jumping on the trampoline during the evening news.

Stephen is 20 now and is considered cured. So far, he hasn't exhibited any major after-effects despite months of radiation and chemotherapy. To me and some of his doctors, his life and health are nothing short of a miracle.

When I see Daren and Barbara Jensen, standing next to their son and proclaiming him well, I understand something of what they're feeling. I remember wanting to believe it was not real, that there had been some mistake. I didn't want the treatment to hurt more than help him. I heard one of the same, hurtful phrases they did about state custody. And I certainly wasn't going to let anyone take him away.

I also know that in my experience at Primary Children's, doctors and nurses didn't look at my son as a research project or a cash prize or a political football. They saw him as a small, scared person with cancer and a life worth trying to save. It was not simply their job to do so. It was who they had become as people and professionals, even when they made mistakes. Medicine is as much an art as it is a science, and there are simply no guarantees. Only time, lots of prayers, the doctors' best shot, and "outcomes."

At this point, I still struggle with questioning the motives of the Jensens. My case was different and I'm not in their shoes. Armchair quarterbacking is easy and cheap when emotions run high, but there are simply too many questions yet to be answered. As for felony "kidnapping," save it for real criminals.

Regarding the diagnosis, I refuse to even entertain the notion that pediatric oncologists are colluding in order to "fake it." I've scrutinized them up close. They have too much real work to do and too much at stake.

I believe there is a divine power that can change a doctor's diagnosis — or a parent's mind. But I wonder — as a boy who looks healthy becomes Gayle Ruzicka's latest poster child for limited government — who will wish they had made their decisions differently in the months to come?

The public and the media will switch focus to the newest debate. Gayle and company will find another cause. Every doctor who gave an opinion will go on treating sick children. State officials will try to keep protecting kids who need it.

And Parker Jensen will either live or die.

If he is healthy, what has the Jensens' decision to continue seeking a different diagnosis, defying court orders, fleeing to Idaho and talking to reporters done to their future, their livelihood and all their children, including Parker? If he is sick, how will they live with knowing that if they had followed medical advice given nearly four months ago, they may have spared him additional agony or even death?

At its core, this is not about "who can to tell who to do what," or even worse, who is "right." Past experience says parents and doctors and child welfare officials and judges can all believe they're doing what's right at any given point in time — and it turns out to be wrong.

Let the chest-beating stop and the cooperation proceed — on all sides — and do it quickly.

A boy's life may well depend on it.

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Carrie Moore is the religion editor for the Deseret Morning News.