Safe in the Heart of a Miracle: More True Stories of Medical Miracles

by Gloria Teague

  “It wasn’t me that prove you were wrong; it was God.”

  “Well, I certainly won’t argue with Him and I’ve never been happier to be mistaken in my life.”

  The surgery lasted eleven hours and the rehab lasted six months. Karensa will graduate high school a year later than she would have before the accident, but everyone is just happy she’s around to graduate at all. The cap and gown ceremony will be nice but this weekend will her first formal celebration of her return to life. She bought the most beautiful prom dress in the store and she looks gorgeous in red.

  “Mom, I think I’ve changed my mind about my major for college. I think I want to be an orthopedic surgeon when I grow up. After all, look what great work they did on me!”

  Avalanche!

  “What color would you call that sky?”

  “Uh … blue?”

  Ron laughed. “What imagery! What descriptive phrases! No wonder you’re a writer!”

  Simon curled his lip and did a hip shake, “Well thank ya, thank ya vury much!”

  “Yeah, like I said, good thing you’re a writer because you do a lousy John Wayne impersonation.”

  “John Wayne? Wow, I must be worse than I realized. If you can’t recognize that as an Elvis impression from a hundred yards you’re deaf, dumb and …wait, you are dumb. Mystery solved!”

  Ron shook his head sadly. “Are you going to ski or what? Let’s forget the fact that you have no future in stand-up comedy and hit the slopes.”

  Simon clapped his best friend’s back. “I know you’re in a hurry to hit the Bunny Slope but how ’bout you let us grown-ups ski first?”

  Ron lifted his pole and said, “I’ll have you to know that I won a medal in skiing.”

  “Yeah, I know. I watched you stick a pin through a lid off a jelly jar and pin it on yourself.” He put his hand over his heart. “It was a proud moment for all of us that know you for the champion athlete that you are.”

  “We’ll see just who beats who, or it is whom, to the bottom first, Si!”

  “Ah, but it’s not the speed at which we ski, but the view of the sky, the snow and the babes on the way down the mountain. By the way, I’ll be seeing all of that before you because I’m not only faster, I’m better. The only way you’ll pass me is if you fall and slide by on your butt or rolling like the big old snowball you already are.”

  “Okay, okay, go ahead and make fun of me. I’ll show you who survives this war!”

  Simon walked toward the ski supply shop. “Well, hold up there, Pilgrim. I have to go buy a locating beacon before we go into battle.”

  “You really going to buy one of those? We’ve never used them before. Why today?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know; just seems like a good idea for some reason. They can’t be too expensive, right? Besides, I think I might need one, hanging around with you. There’s no telling where you’ll wind up getting us stuck one of these days.”

  Ron scowled good-naturedly. “I’ve never gotten you ‘stuck’ that you didn’t have fun, Si! But go ahead, waste your money. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Talking to the salesman, Simon realized the PLB devices were a little more expensive than he’d first thought they would be. He’d considered buying one for Ron, too, but he couldn’t afford it. He knew Ron’s money was also tight, so they’d only have the one device. The ski trip had been a graduation gift from their parents. They both had saved their own money for extras, but Ron had used most of his money to help his mom pay for his dad’s funeral.

  Ron’s father had passed away a month before this trip. At first, Ron said he didn’t want to go skiing, after all. But the tickets were nonrefundable and his mother had told him how happy his father had been to give his son this trip as a gift and how hurt he’d be if Ron didn’t take it. “Go have fun for your dad, honey. If he’d been here, he might’ve gone with you boys, just to show you how to do it right.” She’d smiled at the thought.

  So here they were in the beautiful mountains, ready for some serious, yet fun, skiing. Though nothing would erase the loss of Mr. Thomas, three days playing on snow that sparkled like diamonds in the glistening sunshine made even heartbroken men smile at times. They’d even met a couple of pretty ladies who, like them, were slaloming as a celebration of one of life’s accomplishments. Both of them started college the next semester and, crazy enough, it was within driving distance of the college Simon and Ron were attending. That is, if all parties were interested in seeing each other again. So far, it seemed they were. The four young people had been inseparable since checking in at the same time. The only reason they weren’t with the men today is the women were vastly inexperienced on the slopes and had decided they needed lessons before they joined their new friends on “the big people hills”.

  “Already got them skis on, ready to rock ’n roll, huh Ron?” He patted his friend’s shoulder, then playfully shoved him a couple of times, even acting like he was going to yank Ron’s jacket off.

  Ron jerked away, letting Simon know he wasn’t up to goofing off. “Hey, ain’t that why we came out here? C’mon Si, let’s go have a good time for my dad!” His smile was a bit melancholy but Simon could tell Ron was trying hard to have a good time.

  Si plastered a big smile on his own face and punched his buddy’s shoulder. “Okay, last one to reach the bottom has to unload the car all by yourself, Ron, when we get home. Last chance to chicken out!”

  “The only laying eggsand unloading the car is you, Mr. Davis!”

  Simon made a big production of turning on the PLB he’d just bought. “Uh-huh. The only way you’ll be able to keep up with me, Ronald, is by tracking this!” With the last syllable he pushed off and over the decline.

  “Hey! No fair, you big cheat!” Ron was mere seconds behind his pal.

  It was later in the day than many skiers liked to run so Ron and Si had the slope mostly to themselves, just the way they liked it. They both felt it was more peaceful, and somehow more freeing, when no one else was around. It was also the most dangerous time; a fact that made it stimulating and exciting to the two young men.

  Ron had skied within a few feet of Simon, catching up with him on the downward slope. They were both laughing, shouting playful insults to each other when they heard the first rumble. By the time they heard the second rumble, they began to feel it beneath their skis. Both of their faces registered the shocked terror. Then they simultaneously screamed one word, “Avalanche!”

  Simon and Ron dug their poles into the snow, each stab more rapid and frantic than the one before, racing with an enemy that could prove deadly if it caught them.

  Hardened balls of snow began pelting them, slapping at their backs, hammering their heads, threatening to knock their legs from beneath them. The faster they slalomed, the faster the snow barreled down upon them.

  As if one person, both turned to look back at the same time. It was their undoing. Either the sight of tons of snow hurtling toward them was so unsettling they fell, or the ground shifted in such a way it caused them both to go down. Though they struggled to pull free, each man was covered by snow within seconds.

  Ron had no idea how long he’d been knocked out. He only knew that he awoke to a nightmare of gargantuan proportions. He was encased in a tomb of ice and snow so profound, all he could see was darkness. Somehow his movements, the way he landed, the grace of God, something had created an air pocket. A preciously small air pocket to be sure, but Ron was saying prayers of gratitude for that one huge blessing.

  His next thought was of Simon, his best friend since fifth grade. He drew in as deep a breath as possible and shouted out his friend’s name. Shouted? It sounded more like a muffled whimper, which is exactly what it was. No human ear could have ever heard that.

  He worked feverishly to move his head, his arms, or his hands. His brain told his feet to kick, search for a way to break through. No matter how hard he struggled, Ron was unable to successfully move even one finger. He felt his heartbeat at his temple and it
seemed to be speeding up with each new revelation of just how doomed he truly was.

  The pocket of air seemed to be shrinking, growing smaller with each frantic gasp of air Ron pulled into his lungs.

  I need to slow down and focus on nice, even, slow breaths. I won’t last long if I keep gulping air like a fish out of water. Oh, God, who am I kidding? If I had any sense, I’d breathe harder, faster, use up what little oxygen I have as fast as possible and get this over with. All I’m doing is prolonging the inevitable.

  Ron had never experienced a darkness, a void, as complete as this. His mind became so terrified he started to long for death just to escape the horror of it all. It wasn’t long before the fear began to subside because his brain was being starved of oxygen. With his last conscious thought, he realized it wasn’t going to be so bad, after all, because it was just like going to sleep. He would simply doze off and wake up on the other side of Heaven. He smiled, thinking of his father there waiting for him.

  Ron was angry when he was first awakened from unconsciousness. His deprived brain was hallucinating; so determined to live, his brain was creating voices. This irritated Ron who had been blissfully surrendering to death. The closer he reached escaping this world’s problems, the louder the voices seemed to become.

  When he felt vibrations near his body, he began to cry, not from relief but from being denied.

  Dad! I’m so sorry, Dad. I almost …

  A blast of air washed over his face then he heard a loud roar of triumph, strong in the fading sunset. It took him a few seconds to open his eyes. He had to squint against the glare of torches and flashlights. So many hands scraped and brushed the hard-packed snow from around his body that he couldn’t see the sky above him.

  “Careful people! He’s probably got broken bones. We don’t want to injure him further by rushing. Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Sir, are you Simon Davis?”

  Simon!

  “No, my name’s Ron Thomas. My buddy’s name is Simon. He was with me. Where is he?”

  “Ron? But the signal we got was from a PBL that a Simon Davis bought. We found it in your jacket pocket, sir.”

  “In my pocket? No, that can’t be right. Si stopped by the gift shop to buy one and he …” Ron now remembered Simon horse-playing just before he tipped his skis and went over the precipice—first one out of the starting gate. He must have slipped the PLB device into Ron’s pocket then. “He was acting silly, goofing around, and he must have sneaked that thing in my pocket. But, where is he? Where’s Simon?”

  They called in more volunteers, even members of the ski patrol who had been off duty, but it still took them another three hours to find Si’s body. He’d managed to stay on his feet a little longer than Ron before getting caught by the avalanche. Had he kept the locating beacon, it would’ve been Ron’s body they dug out of the snow.

  * * *

  Starting college without Simon was just as depressing as Ron thought it would be. He studied hard trying to rid his mind of what had happened, but it didn’t work. He kept thinking it should’ve been him who died that day on the slope. Then Kathy called him.

  Kathy Tramer had been the young woman who Simon had been spending time with that weekend at the ski lodge. When she first called Ron she wanted to talk about Simon, to talk about the brief time she’d spent with the handsome young man. Over the months, their shared affection for Simon became affection for each other.

  Two years after the avalanche, Ron Thomas and Kathy Tramer were married. The best man was there only in spirit. When their first son was born, they named him Simon Thomas.

  They have started a small box of keepsakes that will grow larger over the years. The first thing that went into that box was a Personal Locating Beacon and Ron will tell his son it was the first gift he received-from his uncle Simon.

  The War at Home

  She was holding the refrigerator door open, staring into it as if the answer to world peace lay somewhere on the wire shelves. Her head was cocked sideways, one hand on her hip, the instep of her right foot resting on the calf of her left leg. She didn’t hear his soft step behind her, just as he’d hoped she wouldn’t. He stepped behind her, mere inches from her back, yet she never felt his presence. He grinned in anticipation of what was coming next.

  “That’s the problem with these things; you have to watch them every second. You just never know when they’ll do something silly.”

  She jerked around, nearly toppling to the floor due to the stance she had taken, the scream dying on her lips when she saw who it was.

  “Christopher! Oh honey, it is you! Oh God, my Christopher!”

  “Of course it’s me, Mom. Who else named Christopher do you think would be stalking you in your own kitchen?”

  “Honey, oh honey! I didn’t know you were coming home! Oh lord, this is wonderful! When did you get home? How long can you stay? You don’t have to go back, do you? What did you decided to do about re-upping?”

  “Whoa, slow down there, Mom! Catch your breath and give me a chance to catch mine. For a lady who hasn’t seen her son in nearly a year you ask an awful lot of questions.”

  Kristen wrapped her arms around her son and cried buckets of happy tears. They stood that way for a long time, holding each other, rocking back and forth, as they had before he’d shipped out to Afghanistan. The only difference this time would be that he wouldn’t be going into a war zone when she let him go.

  Without taking her arms away, she leaned back and smiled through her tears. “So what do you want for dinner, my sweet soldier boy?”

  “I want to take my poor ol’ crippled mother out to eat.”

  She finally let him go, only to poke him lightly in the stomach. “Poor ol’ crippled mother, huh? She just might be too sick and tired to cook dinner for you ever again, after that remark.”

  Chris chuckled. “We both know that’s not true. My poor ol’ ma would always cook for me.”

  Kristen kissed his face and smiled. “You’re right, you spoiled little brat, you. Now, where are you taking me?”

  “How about you name the place, Mom? Don’t worry about the price, either. Nothing’s too good for my poor old mother.”

  Her look of mock disapproval didn’t stop his laughter. “Honey, I don’t care where we go. My baby boy is home; that’s all I care about!”

  “Now if you go around calling me your baby boy in public, I may just go get you a take-out pizza.”

  She saluted him and said, “Sir, yes sir!”

  Chris reached over and messed up her hair while she tried to back away. “Go on, change clothes, put on some lipstick. I plan on taking you to the Avalon for the best steak in town.”

  Kristen started shaking her head. “Oh no, honey, that’s way too expensive. I don’t mind that pizza you talked about. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll comb my hair and we’ll go grab a pizza.”

  “Mom, unless you want to be embarrassed wearing your holey jeans and ratty tennis shoes at the Avalon, you might want to really change. I was joking about you choosing where we go. I’ve already made reservations so get a move on!”

  The bad thing about a small town is that everyone knows everyone else. The good thing about a small town is everyone knows everyone else. Within minutes of being seated at their table, Kristen and Christopher were deluged with friends wanting to hug, kiss, and just generally welcome home their hometown hero.

  “Hey, Chris, good to see you, son!”

  “So good to have you back home where you belong, Christopher.”

  “It seems like it’s been years since we’ve seen you, son.”

  “Glad to have you back home, safe and sound.”

  “We’ve been praying for you and the rest of our troops, Chris.”

  “Praise be to God for bringing you back home to Mama’s cooking. Right, Chris?”

  No matter how many people stopped by the table, Christopher stood up for each person who wanted to shake hands or give him a hug. His food grew cold and he began to look tired, but
he never lost that winning smile. Kristen was proud of her boy. Everyone who knew them had always told her what a wonderful job she’d done raising him alone after his father lost his life on the job, during a routine traffic stop over fifteen years before.

  Emily, their waitress, came by with their check. “How was everything? Chris, how long are you going to be home? It sure is good to see you again.”

  As she was handing the check to the young man, John, the owner of Avalon, walked by and took it from her. “That’ll be on the house tonight, Mr. Johnson.”

  Chris smiled and reached for the check. “Oh sir, that’s very kind of you, but really, I—”

  “Now, Chris, what kind of ungrateful man would I be to let one of our fine upstanding soldiers pay for his meal?”

  “Sir, I appreciate the thought, but I promised Mom here that I’d take her out to eat and—”

  “And that’s exactly what you did, Chris. Now let me show you my gratitude and allow me to do this one small thing.”

  Emily stood by the table, looking at the check as she chewed on her lip. John said, “Yes, Emily? Is something wrong?”

  “Uh, well, I, uh, just had written something on there and, uh …”

  Her pretty petite face turned a lovely shade of pink as John turned the check over and read what it said.

  “Chris, party tomorrow night for you. Call me: 555-2020. Emily. Well, it would appear our little Miss Emily here is asking you out, Chris.”

  Kristen smiled at the young woman with an understanding half-smile. “Well, Emily, that wasn’t embarrassing at all, was it?”

  It was John’s turn to blush. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  Chris stood up, held out his hand and said, “Emily, I’d love to go to the party with you. Would you please write your number on my hand?”

  With cheeks flaming, Emily wrote her number then scrambled to escape her humiliation. John shook Chris’ hand before making his own hasty retreat.

  Chris laughed. “Well, do we know how to clear a room or what, Mom?”