Excerpt from "10-4, Good Buddy: A Miracle Story Chapter 17"
We had been gone from home for a little over a month, other than the
short time we visited to pack for Atlanta. We didn’t miss anything because all
we needed and all we wanted was contained in the small room in the hospital in
Atlanta.
However, we didn’t know how long we would be in Atlanta. We had met families
that had been there for the better part of a year, and some that had been there
for a week or two. One of us had to go home to check things out and to pay the
bills that had come due. We decided I should go back to Turbeville to do these
chores, work a couple of days, and then return to Atlanta.
I rode back with Nancy, Cookie, Bruce, and Ryan. I guess I was rather quiet for
a good ways; then I spoke up. It was a combination of bitter anger, deep sorrow,
and regret. Anger because I was put in a situation that I had to leave my family
in this way. Sorrow because I missed my family; I wanted to wrap my arms around
them, but that was physically impossible at this point. Regret because I had
actually followed through with leaving them for a few days.
I must have called Bea Bea fifty times before I arrived in Turbeville; each time
she consoled me that this was the best thing. I knew that I had to at least try
to get a day or two worth of work in as well. My job and co-workers had been
more than good to me, and I needed to try to keep my job; we didn’t know what
the future might hold.
The house was very cold, in more ways than one. The heat was off and it was late
fall. It was also cold because there was no life in the house.
I walked upstairs to Evan’s bedroom to look inside. On the floor were all the
toys that he had been playing with the night before the car crash. None of them
had been moved, they were right where he left them.
I sat down in the middle of his room quietly. I didn’t want to talk or move or
do anything. I just wanted to sit there and stare and remember his last night
playing in this room. It didn’t hurt to remember, it was a comfort of some sort.
It was almost like a companion breathing life into an otherwise lifeless house.
He’s going to come home…and he’s is going to be okay…
I called Bea Bea and Evan as I knew they were preparing for bed. She put the
phone up to Evan’s ear for me to talk to him, and I could hear him make a short
grunting sound when I said something funny. Bea Bea said that he was smiling a
little.
We said ‘I love you' and said goodnight.
The next day Bea Bea went with Evan to therapy. Up until this day Evan had been
completely confined to a wheelchair; but today, his physical therapist wanted to
push the envelope a little. She got Evan out of his wheelchair and put her arms
under his arms. Evan’s arms were partially resting on a padded walker and
partially on his therapist. They had placed a belt around his mid-section to
give him support and balance. This belt was then attached to his walker with a
Velcro strap.
He was not happy at this set up, but Bea Bea said after a few minutes, he warmed
up to it. The therapist urged him to take a step, and he cried deep, heartfelt
tears. The task of walking was very hard work for his body at this time; his
body had been resting for so long and that is all it wanted to do now. Evan
would have to be pushed.
He took a small step. His foot wobbled and the step resembled the first step of
a toddler. He took another step and then another small one. After which, he was
exhausted. He was crying and Bea Bea was too. She told him how proud she was and
that she couldn’t wait to call me and tell me. She told him how much she loved
him; he looked at her from halfway across the room with tears in his eyes as
well. Then he did something a bit impromptu.
Evan took one more step with the walker. It was with the help of his therapist;
however, his sudden movement caught them completely off guard.
Evan took a step toward Bea Bea. He then took another step. Bea Bea’s tears were
becoming more like a sprinkler system and her smile broadened. The more she
smiled, the more Evan smiled. By the third step, he had forgotten about the
tears he was shedding, and more of the laughter he was giving.
Evan had taken three steps toward Bea Bea! It was if he was taking his first
steps all over again, and he was so proud. He was determined to get better, and
he continued to prove this.
The speech therapist had ordered some pureed food to be sent to his room at meal
time. Although he was still receiving much of his nutrition from the bags of
formula at night, this pureed food was an attempt to introduce him to solid food
again.
There was a lot of caution, though. When something was put in his mouth, he had
to be able to have some control over it. If the substance wasn’t thick enough,
it could slip down his throat and could possibly go down his windpipe. If this
happened, he could choke, or the substance could go into his lungs. This is
called aspiration, and the doctors and therapist constantly stressed caution in
this. The food that was brought to him was consistent enough to be safe for him
to swallow.
During his morning speech therapy, his therapist would try to stimulate Evan’s
swallowing functions by feeding him small bites of chocolate pudding. On this
particular morning, Evan ate 3 bites of pudding! That night, Evan broke that
record by eating 8 ounces of his pureed food.
I had only been gone a day, and Evan had begun walking and eating again. Bea Bea
and I laughed over the phone. I jokingly told her, “That’s more than he ate
before the crash!”
Bea Bea said that this particular morning, he seemed to be more awake and alert.
This made me want to be back home in the hospital even more. I wanted to talk to
him and I wanted to make him smile. Bea Bea put the phone up to his ear and that
is exactly what I tried to do: make him smile.
I made up some fantastic story about his cats and the mischief they were getting
themselves into. Evan loved his pets and his ‘Nant’ (which was what Evan called
Nancy) was taking care of them while he was gone. One night while she was making
supper for her and Charlie, (known to Evan as ‘Pop’) the cat jumped on the
counter and attempted to get a taste of the food Nant had cooked. This is
typical for a cat as they are curious creatures. The story I told Evan was much
more colorful. I told Evan that the cat jumped on the table while they were
eating and walked over to Pop’s plate and sat down. Then, she began to paw at
his food and eat off his plate. When Pop tried to push the cat away, I told Evan
that his cat ‘hissed’ at Pop.
I could hear Evan making a faint monotone grunt, and I knew he was laughing. So,
I made the tall tale a little taller. I told him at that point that the cat
pointed her tail in the air and lifted her nose in the air as if to ‘snub’ Pop.
This cat then pranced over and walked onto Pop’s plate. The cat then sat down
and glared at Pop as if to say, ‘Take a bite, I dare you!’
Of course, the more reaction I got from him, the thicker I laid it on. I could
hear Bea Bea in the background laughing at Evan’s smile and laughter. I could
close my eyes and see both of them and hear their voices.
He was laughing, smiling, and eating. God was giving him back to us. God had
streamlined our lives to what was important, and then filled our days with those
important things. The only thing that could have made that night any better
would have been for me to actually be in Atlanta with them.
We said goodnight again and I tried to sleep. Sleep evaded me again that night
for the same reasons they eluded me the night before. I knew I wouldn’t rest
until I was reunited with Bea Bea and Evan. I knew that I would talk with Bea
Bea and Evan first thing the next morning and many times during the day. I knew
that I would hear more wonderful news of different things he was doing and
progress he was making. Bea Bea and I were not, however, prepared for what Evan
was about to reveal to us.
The next morning came, and Bea Bea got up, took a shower, and prepared for the
day ahead. When she came out of the bathroom, she saw Evan awake in his bed. He
was lying there with his index fingers in front of his face, as if he were
completely amazed at the very sight of them. Then, he brought one finger towards
his face, touched it, and returned the finger to his line of sight. He was
feeling his face with his index fingers, and was completely mesmerized with this
activity. (We later learned that his face may have felt funny because he was
regaining some feeling back in his body. This would be like regaining feeling in
your arm after it had been numb for a period of time.)
Bea Bea walked over to the side of his bed, and sat down. The blank stare that
had occupied his face for so long was gone. Evan seemed more alert, and aware of
everything around him. He took his pointer fingers and began to touch Bea Bea’s
face.
Evan’s speech therapist came in as this scene was playing out. “Look at him!”
the therapist said; “He is really coming around!” They observed Evan for a few
minutes, and then the therapist said, “He’s so alert! I can’t wait to work with
him today; I want to try something.”
She watched Evan for a few minutes more, and then left. Bea Bea dressed Evan,
fed him his breakfast, and carried him to his first therapy session of the
morning. Within a couple of hours, Evan was reunited with his speech therapist,
who was eagerly awaiting his arrival.
She was sitting at a long table with some picture cards on the table before her.
Bea Bea rolled Evan’s wheelchair up to the table beside the therapist.
“Good morning, Evan!” she said. Evan grinned a little.
“Evan, I have some cards with me that have some pictures on them. I’m going to
ask you some questions, and I want you to point to the picture that best answers
my question, okay?”
With this statement, she held up a picture of a red apple and a swing set.
“Which one of these can you eat?” she asked. Bea Bea focused on Evan, and his
response; nothing else existed except Evan, as he lifted his hand and pointed to
the red apple.
“Very good,” she said. “Now, which one of these can you play on?” Evan lifted
his hand again, and this time pointing to the swing set. Bea Bea had tears
forming in her eyes, as she thanked God with each breath she took.
Once the therapist was confident Evan was able to understand and answer
questions, she and Bea Bea devised a “yes” and “no” board that Evan could use to
communicate with. Although he was making ‘humming’ noises and it was like he was
trying to talk, he just couldn’t put the words together. This board had a “yes”
under a smiley face on one side, and a “no” underneath an “x” mark on the other.
Evan could now answer simple questions, as long as they were in “yes/no” form.
The first test was to ask him questions he would know to see if his response
were appropriate. These were obvious questions like “Is your name Evan?” “Are
you 5 years old?” “Are you at home?” “Are you in the hospital?” and so forth.
Bea Bea would ask him some ludicrous questions as well so that all the answers
were not “yes” and to make sure he was going through a thought process.
Every question asked was answered appropriately. This was a milestone! One could
tell by the look in Evan’s eyes that a whole new world had opened for him. His
otherwise silent world now had a doorway that he could communicate though.
Then, the therapist produced a board with the letters of the alphabet on it. She
placed this board in front of Evan and then asked him if he could spell his
name. Evan looked at her with clear, confident eyes. He slowly lifted his arm,
and began to point towards the letters, “E…..V…..A…..N.”
Bea Bea’s face was drenched in tears and her once silent prayers were now very
obvious. “Thank you, God! Thank you so much! He’s in there! Evan is in there!”
The therapist looked at Evan, smiled, and said, “Welcome back, Evan. It’s good
to meet you.” Evan just smiled.
Bea Bea called me shortly after this; my brain ushered out every thought except
for what was going on with Evan in Atlanta. As she told me what had happened, I
closed my eyes and could almost see her beside his bed with that board. I could
see the smile on his face and I could hear him making phonetic sounding noises
in the background. Bea Bea’s face, I am sure, was lit up brighter than a
Christmas tree; I missed them so much. By that same time tomorrow, I would be
back with them.
By evening, I was at home and packing for my return to Atlanta. I was going to
try to go to sleep early because I had an early flight out of Myrtle Beach, and
I definitely didn’t want to be late.
The phone rang and I could tell by the caller I.D. it was Bea Bea. I grabbed the
phone and excitedly answered.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hal, sit down. You’re not going to believe this” she told me.
My heart felt like a rock, and I am sure it stopped beating for a moment or two.
I just knew something was wrong.
“I have to tell you where your son has been,” I heard her say and I could tell
she was crying…and crying hard. She said this and then started praising God in a
whispering tone: “Thank you God! Praise Jesus! Thank you, thank you, thank
you…Praise you, Lord…”
My eyes welled up with tears and I fell to my knees. Then Bea Bea began to tell
me what had happened.
Evan was in bed and getting settled in for the night. She had visited with the
chaplain earlier that evening, and shared with her how Evan had started to
communicate.
When the chaplain heard this, she told Bea Bea to, “Ask him where he has been.”
Bea Bea replied, “Where he’s been? He has been right here, in this bed, flipping
and flopping, storming every night uncontrollably. I have been right here with
him.”
“I didn’t mean physically… just ask him,” the chaplain replied. She went on to
say “Sometimes when children come out of a coma, they tell wonderful stories of
where they have been, and who they have seen. When they become more awake, these
events seem more like dreams; and eventually, they forget all about them. You
need to ask Evan now, while it is still fresh in his memory.” She promised to
come back again the next day and see how they were doing.
Bea Bea began to ask, “Evan, I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to
answer them for me.”
“Is your name Evan?”
Yes.
“Are you 10 years old?”
No.
“Are you 7 years old?”
No.
“Are you 5?”
Yes.
“Do you know where you are?”
Yes.
“Are you at home?”
No.
“Are you in the hospital?”
Yes.
“Do you know why?”
Yes.
“You know that we were in a wreck and that you were hurt real bad.”
Yes.
“Do you remember the wreck?”
No.
“Do you remember where you were going?”
Yes.
“Were you going to school?”
No.
“Were you going to see Emily Grace?”
Yes.
Then he smiled when he thought of her.
“Okay Evan. I have to ask you another question. When you were asleep, did you
see anyone?”
Without a second’s hesitation he pointed to “yes.” His eyes looked back at Bea
Bea very focused and serious as if he knew the importance of these questions.
There was a pause. Bea Bea gathered her strength and asked, “Did you see
angels?”
Yes.
No hesitation.
Then his arm lifted. His arm was shaking as he opened his hand to signify the
number 5. Then, when he was sure Bea Bea understood that he was telling her the
number 5, he made a pointing gesture all around his bed to relay to Bea Bea
where the angels had stood.
A peaceful smile emanated from his face. It wasn’t the smile of a 5 year old
with a toy, or even the smile you would typically see on a 5 year old. This
smile was one of purity and wisdom. This smile came from deep within him and
radiated through the sparkles in his eyes.
“How did you know they were angels? Did they have wings?”
Yes.
“Were they bright and white?”
Yes.
“Did they watch over you?”
Yes.
“Were you scared of them?”
No.
“Did they take care of you?”
Yes.