I believe in miracles and the Angels of God.
I remember watching the television when my cellular phone rang. The caller I.D. read “Mommy” and I was so excited because I had not talked to her at all that day. I quickly answered the phone and to my surprise it was my grandmother on the other end. I was puzzled and could sense that something was not right just by the tone of her voice. She told me that they were in Greenville at Pitt County Memorial Hospital because my daddy was dreadfully sick. I persistently asked her a million questions about his condition, but she would never give me any details.
Mommy picked me up about an hour after I talked to Grandma. The look on her face was nothing but heartbreaking. As we were walking to the car, she finally broke down and explained to me what happened. She sounded incredibly calm, probably because she was still in shock about what she was about to tell me. She informed me that Daddy, who worked as a truck driver for Pope Gas Company, had been unconscious for most of that day. A man (I call him our “Angel”) found my father laying beside his truck with his eyes open. He was unresponsive and had been in that state for at least four hours before anyone found him. “Mr. Angel” said that it looked like he hit his head on his truck after putting the gas lines in the ground.
My daddy’s skin was ice cold, and the doctor’s pronounced him dead. He slipped into a coma and lived on a ventilator for the rest of the summer. He had a cracked skull and there was so much brain pressure that doctors were considering doing surgery. He was unable to do anything on his own. He could not open his eyes, move a single limb or talk; he could not even breathe at all on his own. His condition was so bad that the doctors suggested “pulling the plug” because they were convinced that he would never come out of his vegetative state.
I believe in miracles and the Angels of God. Only a miracle and angels could fully recover my daddy from the severe head trauma that he suffered. He had to attend numerous physical therapy sessions for months because he had to learn how to do everything over again; talking, walking, and eating were included. By looking at him now, one would have no idea of the life changes that he had to endure. All of the doctors and nurses that took care of him call him “Miracle Baby,” and I could not agree more. If God did not send “Mr. Angel” to find Daddy, there is no telling how much longer it would have been before someone discovered him. It is truly an amazing blessing that he is still with us, and I thank God every single day for His miracles and His heavenly angels.
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