 
Marshall's Story: The Boy Who Met Angels

By Sam Lester

Copyright 2013 74Blues Publishing

Smashwords Edition

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Acknowledgements

Many great thanks to my wife Amanda and the three other bright spots in my life, Marshall, Lewis, and now Eli. I love you all very much.

The doctors, nurses, administration, office and custodial staff, and anyone else associated with the Children's Medical Center at the Medical College of Augusta – anyone who had a part in making that hospital the place it is and filling it with the people in it – you have saved my son's life and by doing so saved mine as well. Thank you.

Any attempt to thank everyone individually is impossible because I could never know each person who prayed for Marshall and the rest of the family. Thanks to everyone; I try to pray for each of you every day.

Galatians 6:2

Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.

Table of Contents

The Cell Phone Call

The Drive to Augusta

The Hospital

'Your Son Will Die'

Surgery

Closer to Dying than Living

Email

Snaggle-tooth Grin

Rehab

Going Home

Angels

One Year Later

Connect with Sam and Marshall

The Cell Phone Call

I fumbled for the cell phone next to me in the truck as I drove through the strip in Milledgeville past the Shoney's there on the right and Hatcher Square Mall on the backside of the restaurant. I noticed the big clock at the bank read 6:58, which was two minutes away from the time I was supposed to meet Julie to pick up the boys. I caught the red light as I was answering the phone.

"Hello"

"Sam? This is Purkey."

"Hey Purk.."

"Alright now calm down."

I felt my neck get hot from the base all the way over the top of my head to my forehead. I didn't have anything to be excited about I thought. Whatever it was, it would have to be bad and about the boys and Julie. Purkey was a mutual friend and lived in Waynesboro where Julie and the boys now lived. I had an idea it must be some sort of accident because I was two minutes from our meeting time and two miles from our meeting place in Milledgeville at the Huddle House. I was on my way home from a short grad school semester in Athens and was picking up the boys on the way home for the weekend. I knew they were on the road on their way to me. I turned off the radio.

"Sam, Julie and the boys have been in a wreck. Julie and Lewis are ok but Marshall is hurt. They are on their way to the hospital."

"Which one?"

"One in Augusta is all I know. She called me here a minute ago. Where are you?"

"I'm here in Milledgeville. What happened?"

"I don't know for sure - from what I understand, they flipped and Marshall got thrown out".

"Ok. How do I get there from here - give me the road numbers." Purkey hauled things for folks throughout northeast Georgia. He would know right off the road signs I'd need to take to get there. I have no idea why I was calm enough to think of asking him that. I couldn't tell you why I was able to function much at all, but for some reason I knew I had to get to Augusta and I happened to think to ask.

"Alright, you're going to take 24 out of Milledgeville, then take 88 in Sandersville to Wrens, then 1 into Augusta".

"24, 88, 1?" I asked. I turned down the road toward the Huddle House.

"Yeah, that's right. Drive careful. You want me to call Wanda?"

"No, I'll call her"
The Drive to Augusta

I turned out of Milledgeville past our meeting point at Huddle House down the road toward the river on highway 24. My heart was thumping hard in my chest and it felt tough breathing, but I felt calm and tried to gather my thoughts. I said a quick prayer for God to take care of Marshall, Lewis, and Julie. The next thing I needed to do was call the people who needed to know. My hands started sweating. I wiped the palms on my shorts, took a deep breath, and called Mrs. Wanda.

Mrs. Wanda was Julie's mother. She was a wonderful lady who really loved her grandchildren, my boys. Unfortunately, she had been through more than a fair share of wrecks involving her children.

The phone rang and Mrs. Wanda answered with a hello.

"Mrs. Wanda?"

"Oh, Sam - Purkey just called. What happened?" I thought that Purkey must not have understood me.

"I don't know anything more than what Purkey just told me. I am on my way there, just now leaving Milledgeville."

"What did he tell you?" Mrs. Wanda was trying to stay calm and was doing a pretty good job, but the quaking in her voice gave away her concern.

"Just that Julie and Lewis were ok and that Marshall was hurt. He got thrown out somehow." I turned the truck to the right off of 24 and on to highway 88 that would take me to Wrens. I guessed I was about two hours away on a road I didn't know at all, which would make me keep my speed down through these country roads.

"That's what he told us. Oh, Sam those poor babies. We are leaving in just a minute - Mack is going to drive me. Do you have our cell number?" Mack was her only son and Julie's only brother. To me he was a close friend and a guy I had seen grow up from the time he was around 8 years old when Julie and I started dating to now as a 22 year old student at the University of Georgia.

"No, ma'am, give it to me. I'll call you if I hear anything and you call me if you hear anything."

"Hang on - I have it written down here somewhere." I could hear her fumbling in her purse for a number and fumbling some more when she couldn't find it right away. I pushed the truck on up to a pretty good speed but not a reckless one. The thought crossed my mind that I didn't know the road and I was trying to talk on a cell phone. My mind certainly wasn't on driving. I decided to slow down a bit - there wasn't any sense in being one of the people you hear about who have wrecks on their way to hospitals. My hands were still sweating - I wiped them on my shorts again. I had the windows rolled up so I could hear on the phone so I turned the air up a little more.

"Here it is, Sam. 555-6921, ok? I'll call if we hear anything. Ted and Jamie are on their way, too."

"Yes, ma'am. Y'all drive careful"

We hung up as I drove around a curve bearing to the left. There were stacks of hay on the edge of a rolling hayfield on the left. I thought of the silly joke I used to make with the boys when we passed a hay field. 'Hey', I'd shout, then when they turned to look at me I would point to the field and say 'See? Hay'. Stupid joke, but it just popped into my mind. I was worried to death about Marshall but I didn't know good or bad what his condition was, so I turned worrying off and concentrated on what to say to Momma.

My Momma is a strong-willed lady. I didn't know how much I would need that strength until the weeks that followed, but I knew for certain that she would be upset and I didn't like upsetting Momma for anything. She answered the phone when I called. I told her what had happened as calmly as I could because I didn't want her to worry about me on top of worrying about Marshall. No chance of that, but I didn't want to add any more to her anxiety.

I really didn't want to upset Daddy. He had lost his older sister just a couple months ago; she was a beautiful woman, inside and out, who had been hit by a car while walking near her home in Virginia. Everyone who knew her loved Aunt Barbara; her death shook up the family more than any other event in the past fifteen years or more. I didn't want this to push Daddy to a place he couldn't come back from if it went bad for Marshall, but he had to know and would know.

"You have on your seatbelt?" Momma asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I am driving fine - just very fast."

"Well be careful. Daddy and I are about to leave in just a minute as soon as we can pack and get away. Daddy's going to call Jack and Ben."

I hung the phone a drove for a few minutes, and then started praying. It was the first chance I had after making the calls I needed to make. The sun was going down behind me but not so far that I needed to turn on the headlights. The road was a fairly straight one and the few curves I met weren't too bad. I felt that I was driving pretty good, considering. I looked down at the gas gauge and figured I may or may not be able to get to Augusta with what I had. I didn't know because I still wasn't sure how far away I was.

My first words to God were to protect Marshall and watch over him. I then mentioned watching over Lewis and Julie when the phone rang. It was Purkey again.

"Hey bud."

"Where you at?" he asked.

"I don't have any idea other than I haven't made it to Sandersville yet. What have you heard?"

"Ted is listening on the scanner and they are talking about a broken collarbone and some scrapes."

A broken collarbone, I thought, we can fix that no problem.

"They are still on their way to the hospital \- Julie and Lewis are following in the police car. I am hammer down trying get up there from Statesboro."

"Gotcha bud. Let me know if you hear anything else."

The road continued to come mile by mile. Several other fields went past my window and a few old stores, but I didn't notice much more than that. I would occasionally take a deep breath and twist my neck around to loosen up. I was freezing even though the air was turned away from me, but my hands were still sweating that nervous kind of sweat you get right before a big event like a game or a wedding. I wiped them off again and called Mrs. Wanda and Momma to tell them that news and spent a few minutes with each of them. They of course had questions that I didn't have answers to. I had now worked my way closer to Sandersville and realized that I hadn't seen the first law enforcement car; a sheriff, state patrol, or anyone yet. A sign on the right said "Wrens - 39 miles" and I figured to have enough gas to get to Wrens - I just hoped Wrens had gas stations. I started back praying.

My words to God were the same as they were before but now I thought about death. I asked God not to take my boy. Just as soon as I said those words I had a doubt. It wasn't a doubt that God could save Marshall; it was a doubt that I should be asking that at all. I asked myself if I should be asking God to keep my son here - not knowing what may happens as a result of this wreck and knowing from my preachers and Sunday school teachers that heaven is a much better place than here. I spoke out loud.

"God, I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to ask for you to keep him here in a worse place than what you have for him? Is that selfish to ask? I don't know what to ask for. I don't know what to pray for. Thank you for taking care of Lewis, you know, for not being hurt I guess. Take care of Julie, too. I don't know what to ask for. I guess 'thy will be done', Lord, thy will be done. He's in your hands."

I remembered the sermon from Brother Eddie several months ago. He was the preacher at our Methodist church in Byromville. In my mind, there were only two men whom I considered 'men of God'. Brother Eddie Braswell was one of them; I was so certain of his relationship with God that what he said to me was taken as absolute. He talked in this sermon about putting everything in God's hands and letting Him take care of it. I wasn't comfortable with the idea because I am a proactive type of person. I'd rather be a part of the fixing of a problem rather than sitting back. But I took in Eddie's words that day; it came to mind that I needed to call him, too. I reached for the phone as I swerved to miss a turtle crossing the road. Not a big enough swerve to cause me to run off the road, but good enough to remind me to keep my mind on driving. I carefully called Eddie.

Mr. Eddie Braswell was our preacher for the past six years or so. I liked him when he first arrived; he is a mountainous man whose heart and compassion for others makes him the most believable preacher I knew. He moved way up in my book when he preached my best friend and his brother's funeral back in '94 after the flood. They had been killed together in a plane crash. I thought about Chris.

"Lord, forgive me, I don't really know if this is the right thing to do either. Chris, I don't know if you get to hear stuff like this, but if you do - I need your help. I don't know if you can or whatever, 'cause I don't know how things work up there, but I know if it can be done that you could and would do what I'm asking you. Watch after Marshall, buddy, help me keep him here with me - if that's the best thing for him."

I called Eddie and told him of the wreck and all these doubt of what to ask for. My heart and breathing hadn't settled down too much, but I felt good enough. I thought about Marshall and his acolyte duties at church with Brother Eddie.

"I just don't know if I ought to ask for - if it is right for me to ask or if it is selfish."

"Well, son, don't you worry about that" he answered. "We are going to claim him and come right on out and ask God to heal him and keep him here with us. We ain't going to worry about whether or not to ask for it - we are going to come right out and ask for it. We are going to claim him and then put him in God's hands. Let's pray."

I sure was reassured by Eddie's words. I felt and still feel that what he says goes, because I am convinced he knows what he is talking about. He prayed for exactly what he said he was going to pray for.

"Lord, we just claim Marshall and ask that you heal him so he can come back and be the same beautiful child he was. We don't know his condition, Lord, but we know that you can heal whatever is wrong with him. We just put him in your hands Lord and trust that your will be done. We ask that you protect Sam and these families as they travel to be with Marshall and Lewis and Julie." I can't tell you why, but I relaxed a little bit when he got through. I was still very excited but I felt then that whatever happened, I would treat it as the best thing for Marshall because it had been God's will and I had done everything I needed to do as far as that moment and asking God for help.

I took a look at the clock. It was 7:16, the longest 18 minutes I think I have ever been through.

I was running people through my mind that should be let in on what happened. I thought of my closest friends first, to get them involved.

I called my friend Lew then decided not to call anyone else and concentrate on driving. I was sure that the news would spread fast to the people who needed to know. I thought about work - our quarter started the next day. I called information and got the number for my Director of Instruction, Carol. I punched the numbers into the cell phone and let it ring. Of all times, it was a wrong number with an idiot on the other end of the line who tried to find out why I was really calling him. Something about calling his wife all the time in the middle of the night but it couldn't be her because she lived in another area code.

Another hay field passed by, this time on the right side of the road. There were two rows of round bales lined up on one end of the field that looked like they had been cut and baled in the last week or so. The truck was running fine and the road was still coming toward me. I was feeling a little cool so I turned the air back a bit. I realized I had tightened my neck again so I rolled my head around to loosen it up again.

I thought I knew a good friend from work's home number. I dialed my guess and pressed the send button. Jeff Scruggs was home and answered the phone. I gave him the story and asked him to call the folks at work that needed to know; Jeff and I had started at Middle Georgia Technical Institute at the same time. He has two beautiful kids the same ages as Marshall and Lewis and seemed to take the news of the accident pretty hard. We hung up and he went to calling the people at work for me. Now I could concentrate on driving.

I wanted to turn on the radio but didn't because I didn't think it was appropriate. I figured I should be concentrating on what was going on rather than listen to Tim McGraw.

The bypass around Sandersville is a four lane then shrinks up to a two lane right by a construction site. I drove past a sign that told me Wrens was 29 miles away. I looked at the gas gauge again and decided it might be close, but I'd be able to make it despite asking so much more from my truck in terms of power. The phone rang.

"Hey Sam, this is Purkey."

"Hey boy, whatcha got?"

"Not much more. Ted says they are thinking he might have a broken jaw."

"And the collarbone?"

"Yeah, the collarbone too. They are going to the Medical College of Georgia."

No problem, I thought, those are things we can fix and the Medical College was very favorably well known throughout the Southeast.

I hung up with him and the phone rang immediately. Daddy and Momma were well on their way; they told me my brother Jack and his wife were on their way as was my youngest brother Ben. I told them about the possibility of his jaw and collarbone being broken and his going to the Medical College. I called Mrs. Wanda and gave her the news as well. She had questions I didn't have answers to - I guess we all wanted to know things as soon as possible.

I was still freezing so I let down the truck windows to let some warmer air flow through the cab; I wasn't on the phone and didn't expect to be for a few minutes at least. A few miles down the road it started to wear on my mind, the possibility that I might lose my oldest son. I thought about his birth, when his mother and I were still married and just starting out. I remember the labor and delivery of the little rascal and the bottomless feeling in my heart when his heart monitor stopped during the procedure. It may have actually stopped or he may have moved out from under the sensor but in my mind his heart stopped and started back up again. He was playing with us. I remembered writing the first words we said as parents immediately after he was born. Julie's first words were 'thank you God', as a reflection of the excitement we had had a few minutes prior. My first words were simple: 'well damn!' I had been surprised that so much could come out of such a small area. I thought of these things and started to knot up in my throat.

Suddenly, instantly, and for no good reason that I can tell you, I swallowed hard and let out a yell.

"No way!' I yelled to no one in particular. "No way you win!" I really don't know why I hollered that out the truck window but it sure felt good to let it out. The knot disappeared and I got calm again.

I traded phone calls with Momma and Mrs. Wanda for the next several minutes, followed by a good chunk of time by myself. The road I was on dead-ended into highway 1 and I took the left toward Augusta. It was about quarter after eight when I pulled up to a red light in Wrens damn near out of gas. I had sweated the last few miles watching the needle and begging for some good luck and thick fumes. I was behind two cars at a four-way red light. On the other side of the road to my right and past the light was a gas station, the only one I had seen since leaving Milledgeville. My heart was still pounding pretty good and I was very excited as well as overwhelmingly impatient. Not a car was on the left or right sides of the light and they had the green. I figured I needed the gas and any lawman would surely cut me some slack.

I pulled out from behind the car in front of me to the right and jumped the curb on a straight line for the gas station. No one was coming from the left and right still so I straight-lined it over the other curb and through some of those decorative bushes you see at intersections. I pulled up the pump and went to putting gas in my truck. I could smell the sweat from my truck in the form of hot oil as I pumped the gas. I had a ten dollar bill so I put that much in and ran into the store. I was hoping the guy inside wouldn't say anything to me because I knew I was in a pretty excited state and wasn't real sure what I would do. I am not a violent person by any means, but you never know what might set you off when you are tensed up like I was. It didn't matter because he took my money with a smile and a kind word.

I pulled out of the gas station and took a right to get back on the highway. About five or so miles outside of Wrens, the phone rang again. It sure was getting a workout. I rolled up the window and turned the air back on.

"Sambo-"

"Right here, Purkey, whatcha got?"

"Well Sam, it doesn't look good. They got to the hospital and they say he doesn't have a broken collarbone, he's got some kind of head injury."

"Damn."

"Ted says that she flipped the Blazer in Louisville and Marshall got thrown out."

"Jesus"

"Sam, he hit his head on a telephone pole."

No doubt about it, my heart fell back into that bottomless feeling I had when his heart stopped at birth. I hung up with Purkey and told Momma and Mrs. Wanda. Terrible thoughts kept coming through my mind. Thoughts of my boy being slung from the window as it flipped over and the fear he must have had at that moment. Of course now he would be sedated and not living through that as intensely as those moments. I knew from my Psychology classes that the brain has a marvelous ability to remove such horrible memories. He wouldn't know anything about what had happened, and maybe not even the days or weeks before the accident. But for a moment, I could only think of what he must have felt like as he was propelled through the air. And I wasn't there for him. That thought stung a good bit.

Even in this decent post-divorce relationship, I didn't like not having them around. I didn't like not being there when they needed me. There were times when they would need or want their Daddy and I would be in a different place, unable to be there for them.

Rows of planted pine trees went past as I continued my hurried but safe pace to the hospital. The sun continued to go down behind me but it wasn't quite getting dark.

I knew I couldn't have prevented the accident if I had been there and I didn't dwell on that as much as I thought about not being there for him now. I was on my way of course, as quickly as I could get there, but I wasn't there right then. If something else bad happened before I got there I would be haunted by my absence.

I slowed way down when I got behind a tractor on his way to plow a field of peanuts or cotton.

Daddy called. I asked him where they were.

"Hawkinsville" he replied.

"You are about thirty minutes ahead of Mack and Mrs. Wanda." She had called a few minutes before for an update I didn't have and to tell me where they were. They were still three hours away from Augusta. I didn't think to make a note on about what time they'd get there.

I pushed my truck into fifth gear and pressed the gas a little firmer than I had before. I didn't have to worry about gas anymore and the intensity and pressure to get there was a bit stronger. I wasn't driving carelessly; I felt I had pretty good control over the driving at least. I looked down at my shirt and noticed the one I had chosen to wear. A couple weeks ago I met the boys in Thomson, which is between Athens and Waynesboro, for Father's Day. They gave me a blue softball shirt with All Star Dad #1 white lettering on it. More terrible thoughts went through my mind.

I felt guilty. I was scared to death. I thought about what I would have to do if he died. Almost as soon as that thought went in another thought followed it and this thought was an angry one. I got mad at myself for thinking negatively in a time when being positive was the most important frame of mind to be in. How stupid was I to let a dumbass thought like that get in? I had preached and preached about always being positive to Taylor and here I was not practicing what I had preached.

Taylor Willingham was a young Byromville boy and one of the best linemen I had ever seen at my little private school alma mater. He was a huge specimen when he started getting serious about lifting weights with me and Lew to better himself for football. Lew and I showed him ways to lift weights and ways to focus on a particular technique and block out everything else. He was well over six foot three and three hundred pounds the year before and had suffered a torn knee ligament halfway through the season. When we spoke about the injury, he had a great deal of doubts about being able to play at the level he had been, much less the next level - college. Lew and I had developed our own way of thinking about how to deal with things, a bit of a mixture between the two of us. We felt very strongly about always being positive and moving forward toward a goal even in the face of a possible setback. We related the 'next ball' theory to Taylor.

Lewis Braxton was a baseball player in his youth, led by his Dad Mr. Jim Braxton who had made it as a pitcher within a whisper of the big leagues. He explained that when fielding a ball incorrectly and making an error, to focus on the 'next ball'.

"If you make an error out there, there ain't a dang thing you can do about it. You can't go back and correct it, all you can do is keep your eyes ahead and wait on the next ball" is what Lew relayed to us from his father.

Taylor took this very seriously and worked tirelessly in the weight room and at home. He had shed some of the weight and put on a considerable amount of strength by this time. We were tickled to death how he had responded so well. For him, 'next ball' meant the next set of weights or the next drill on the football field.

What 'next ball' meant to me was to focus on whatever needed to be done and not dwell on the 'what happeneds' or the 'what-ifs'. I was still apprehensive because I wasn't there yet, but I threw out all the speculative thoughts and negativity. They would never come back. I wiped my hands on my shorts again and drove past another hay field.

More time had gone by and it looked like I was entering a suburban-type area that I thought might be the outskirts of Augusta. A look at the clock showed 8:40, a look at the speedometer showed 90, and a look out the window showed the last field I'd see before the city wrapped around me and it was a hay field.

I got a call. "Good afternoon, Mr. Lester," came from the other end, "this is Sergeant Cross from the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department."

"Yes, sir, good evening."

"Where are you now, Mr. Lester?"

"I believe I'm about ten minutes from Augusta on highway 1."

"How's your driving - you driving all right?"

"Yes, sir - I'm driving better than I usually drive - just very fast."

"Well, we got word that your son is stable up there at the hospital, so you just drive careful and bring it on in."

"Yes, sir. Tell me how to get there from here. I'm here on 1, but I don't know where to go when I get into town."

"Alright, let me get someone who knows better than I do."

I wiped my hands on my shorts again. My heart was beginning to speed up again and I was starting to sweat a bit more the closer I got to the hospital and the boys. Another fellow got on the phone and told me to take a left onto Fifteenth Street when it forked that direction. I called Daddy and Mrs. Wanda and told them those same directions. While on the phone I crossed into Augusta, past what looked like a deserted mall on the left and a Kmart on the right. It seemed that I was going into an older part of town; there were old-looking houses and small engine repair shops covered in dust and fading paint. I drove on past a couple of soul-food restaurants and slowed down to the speed limit. I noticed housing projects and dirty-looking convenience stores with bars on all the windows, parked junk cars in overgrown yards next to shiny clean cars. I didn't think this was much of the right way to go - who puts a hospital out here?

Fifteenth Street bore to the left just like the fellow said it would. I followed it on down and a big hospital rose over the rode on the right. There was also a big building on the left, but luckily there was a sign for the Medical College of Georgia on the building to the right. I pulled into a red light in the right lane and looked around. To the left was a restaurant of some kind; down the hill on the right was a sign that said Children's Hospital.

I called Daddy and told him I had made it to the hospital and gave him the same directions the fellow on the phone had given me. He said they were in Dublin, which I calculated to be about two hours away.
The Hospital

When the light finally turned green I drove on past a parking deck and slowly took the road to the right that indicated the way to the Children's Hospital. I looked carefully at tall buildings that surrounded me on both sides. In the distance to my left about three hundred yards was a large, gray building with Veteran's Hospital on the top in blue lettering. Between that building and me was a parking lot. Immediately to my right was an emergency room parking lot that I quickly turned in to, only to find that all the spaces were filled. I pulled on through carefully and pulled over to the parking lot across the street and took up the closest space to the walkway between the emergency room section and my chosen parking lot. As I turned the truck off I noticed the clock said 8:50.

I locked my truck, gave it a pat on the hood, and walked across the walkway to the emergency room, raising my hand to thank a guy in a truck for letting me pass by. I had scarcely walked halfway there, only about a hundred steps, when I felt out of breath. I slowed for a second to catch my breath and settle my heart down. My eyes were wide as I entered the swooshing automatic doors to the emergency room so I could take in all the signs and try to figure out where Marshall and Lewis were. A sign indicated left, so I went that direction. I didn't see a nurse; a few kids I didn't know watched television in a small waiting room on the left with who could have been their older sister. I turned and went back the way I came and ran into Ted Montgomery.

Ted was a boyfriend of Julie's sister Jamie and an Emergency Medical Technician in Burke County. I had met him on a couple of occasions and already took him to be an intelligent and well-mannered guy who loved my boys as much as their Aunt Jamie \- if such a thing is possible. I noticed again that my hands were sweating so I wiped them again on my shorts before I took his in a handshake.

"Hey Ted, where are they?" I asked.

"Right down here. Jamie is with Lewis - he's ok, just a scratch on his head and a big bruise on his shin. Marshall is with the neurologists right now getting x-rays. Julie is in a room down the hall from them."

"What happened?"

"Sam, from what I can tell she was driving into Louisville and ran off the road and flipped a few times. Marshall got thrown out the window and hit his head. He has a real bad head trauma. He is in bad shape, Sam."

"Thanks." I had pictures of a curve on a country road with planted pine trees lined up in rows to the right and loose gravel on the edge of the road. I could see Julie's Blazer several yards from where my imagination put me.

We walked back to the left of the entrance where I had just come from and waited at an unmarked door. A nurse in an out-of-the-way office got up and asked who I was. I told her I was Mr. Lester and my boys were on the other side of this door, would she please open it up for me. She punched in the numbers on the keypad that caused a click inside the door handle. A turn and a push and we were facing the nurses' station. I took the left as Ted directed and went a few steps. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and tightness in my shoulders and neck. I noticed Jamie inside the doorway of one of the emergency rooms; as I approached I noticed Lewis in the hospital bed watching television on his left. Pokemon- how did I know?

He looked over at me with a glance then looked back at the television. I took a seat on the rolling stool on his right side of the bed. I noticed an IV in his right wrist and a small cut on his head that had been discolored by the medication. He turned back to me and looked up with his little boy blue eyes.

"Daddy, we had a weck!"

"Yep, yes you did buddy. You feeling ok?"

"Yes, sir. I'm watching Pokemon!"

"Really? Which one is it?"

He went on to tell me that it was the one we rented once upon a time about the Voltorbs or whatever they're called. It was a monstrous relief to see that he was not hurt worse. I hadn't gotten a report that he had been but I still didn't trust anyone until I could check him out myself with my own eyes. I held his hand as he watched the cartoon. He was holding a stuffed snake - about ten inches long with a brown back and a yellow belly. It looked like one of the little stuffed animals they get in those kid's meals from fast food places. He held it in his left hand as he turned to show it to me.

"This is Sliddher."

"Sliddher?" I asked.

"Slither", Jamie said. She was next to Lewis caressing his leg.

"Sliddher's a snake."

"Oh, I see." I took it and hissed at Lewis with it. Under the tag was the name 'Slither'. 'Sliddher' was the best my three year old could say. Jamie had walked over behind me and put a hand on my shoulder with a squeeze; she was nervous and antsy. We watched Pikachu and other characters criss cross across the television screen as Lewis watched, just as content as he could be. I was quiet as I rolled back and forth next to Lewis' bed looking over his body again and again. Jamie spoke.

"They are going to keep him tonight, they think, just to be sure."

"Sure". I said.

"Marshall went up to the neurologists to get x-rayed, Sam. He got hurt real bad on his head and they think he had a broken collarbone."

"What about Julie?'

"She is alright - just some bruises on her face and her leg. I mean they are pretty bad but not real, real bad \- you know what I mean. Purkey is with her down the hall - she is real upset, Sam".

"Yeah. Who's the doctor?"

"That's him next to the desk - that tall black guy."

"Be right back, buddy", I said to Lewis. Pokemon had his attention so he didn't respond.

"Watch him", I said as I walked out toward the desk. My heart had calmed down a great deal. Lewis was in there and would be fine. Marshall must not be near death if they were taking the time to x-ray him. For a moment I was able to relax as I waited for the doctor to get done talking with one of the nurses, I took a few slow, deep breaths and tried to shake the tension out of my shoulders. I thought for a minute about what might need to happen. Marshall might need brain surgery, or he might just need a plastic surgery procedure of some kind to fix a broken nose or something like that. No one has mentioned what part of his head and I put his face as part of all that, in some effort, I suppose, to get away from the thought that it might be worse. Several minutes passed; I didn't get anxious because I didn't feel I needed to interrupt.

The doctor turned and looked at me. He was a tall fellow and thin looking, certainly in shape. He had on the blue scrubs and shower cap that indicated he had been somewhere working on someone. I figured he was the one who saw Lewis.

"Hey Dad, I am Dr. Hatley and I am working the Emergency Room tonight. Your little fellow in there seems to be alright - just a little cut on his head and a pretty bad bruise on his shin; other than that he seems ok - we are going to keep him here tonight though, just for observation."

"What about my other boy."

"He is upstairs on the sixth floor getting x-rayed. He received a serious head trauma and some slight lacerations."

"What about his collarbone?"

"I don't know anything about his collarbone."

"Oh, they just mentioned that to me on the way up here." It didn't matter that I had gotten a less than exact report. One less broken bone was a good thing.

"No, sir, just a massive head trauma."

"Massive?" That was the first time that word had been used and it didn't sound like one I wanted to hear. I stared right at him, trying to read more into what he said other than what he was saying. I suppose that's a natural reaction to try to have all the facts, all the ideas, all the suggestions, and all the emotions out on the table so you know what to deal with, rather than just the bright spots doctors may be inclined to give you. I am a straight shooter - give it to me just as plain as day and I can deal with whatever the problem is.

"Yes. Your son was thrown from vehicle - he wasn't wearing his seatbelt." Dr. Hatley really emphasized the wasn't in that statement. His face twisted into a disgusted look.

"Where?" I asked, "I mean, where on his head." I crossed my arms on front of my chest nervously.

"On the left side, I believe. I didn't see much of his head - neurosurgery took him right away."

"Ok, doc, thank you for what you've done", I said and shook his hand again.

He patted me on my shoulder and said "Take care. Do y'all need anything in there?"

"No, I don't reckon we do." I replied. I walked back in to Lewis and sat back in the rolling stool next to him. I was knotted up all in my stomach after talking to an emergency room doctor about the massive head injury my oldest son had just suffered. Lewis looked at me.

"Daddy, Marshall got hurt."

"Yes he did, buddy."

He looked back at his distraction and I continued to check him over. The cut on his head was no more than a half an inch long but it looked a little deep; blood had dried in his hair right above it. I thought to myself that he had cut himself dozens of times worse than that. I pulled down the sheets to look at his leg. He never took his eyes of the television as he pulled the sheets back up before I had a chance to see the bruise.

"Baby, I need to look at your leg, ok?"

"Let Daddy see your leg, Lewis", Jamie said.

Lewis looked at me. "Not baby, daddy, buddy". I had hurt his manly feelings apparently.

"Ok, buddy".

I pulled the sheets back down and saw a golf ball sized goose egg on the front of his shin. It had already blackened and looked tender. I pulled the sheets up and started to take a look at the surroundings. The sterility of the hospital was apparent in the smells and the cleanliness of everything around me. The trashcan had old gauze and wrappings in it. On top of it were his shoes and a tightly wrapped bundle of clothes. I walked over to them.

"Oh, those are his clothes - I think they cut the shorts off."

"Well, how about we just throw them all away except the shoes." One less thing to worry about.

"I think they have a bag with Marshall's stuff in it to." She pulled a bag from the backside of the trashcan. In it was another pair of shoes that I recognized as Marshall's. We stuck Lewis' shoes in the bag and tossed the old clothes in the trash. I felt fidgety, like I needed to be doing something.

"How long ago did they take Marshall up?" I asked.

"Right before you got here." I looked at my watch. It was already 9:30; I had been there for forty minutes or so but it had felt like more than an hour. I looked around the room again.

"Sam, I'm going to go see Julie. Are you going to be here?"

"Sure, sure - go ahead."

She walked over and put her hand on my shoulder, squeezed, then left. She was as worried and as apprehensive as I was. As she turned to leave, a nurse walked in.

The nurse was very careful in taking Lewis' vital signs. She looked at him lovingly and listened to his heart, careful not to interrupt the line of vision between him and the wonderful cartoon that had taken his attention away for the moment. I took a long look at this little boy of mine and wondered for the hundredth time what Marshall looked like, and what he had gone through. Knowing he wouldn't remember anything from the accident wasn't a comfort anymore. I felt tight in my shoulders - my hands were freezing in the lowered temperature of the emergency room.

Jamie returned several minutes later and went straight to Lewis' side and began rubbing his arms. I felt like she did - wanting to do something but there just wasn't anything to be done that wasn't happening at that time. Loving on Lewis seemed like the slightest thing in the world to be doing at that time, but at least it was something.

The phone rang and broke the moment. It was the police chief from Louisville calling to check on Marshall. He asked that I make sure they were kept up to date. I thought it was especially nice of him to call because none of the family was from Louisville. My guess was that his first meeting with any of us was that day, yet he thought enough of Marshall to call and want to be kept up to date. The more I thought, the more I started realizing how bad things were for Marshall. This guy wouldn't call if Marshall had just a bump, or other very minor injury. Marshall must be in terrible shape, I thought. I started getting worked up again, my hands sweating. I knew he was in for an X-ray prior to possible surgery, but it hadn't dawned on my heart what that meant; I had been operating with my heart off and my brain on for the past several hours. I threw out those thoughts of what might happened, how he might look, what he might feel, and all the other speculations I had been making. I decided to try to calm down and deal with what was brought to me. I took a deep breath and tried to take a look at the current situation.

He was alive. He was in a hospital, and not just any hospital, but the premier hospital in the Georgia, in my mind. If he is to be saved and make it through this, I thought, then this is where and how was up to the doctors. The thought that he wouldn't make it didn't cross my mind.

"Your Son Will Die"

I sat in the room with Lewis for the next half hour, talking and watching the cartoon. He would periodically tug on the IV and I would stop him and tell him what the IV was doing for him so he'd just look at it for a minute, then return to cartoons or show me his goose-egg on his shin. Jamie organized and re-organized the emergency room a couple times, just to be doing something. The nurse returned and took signs again and told me Marshall would be done in a minute. When she returned to the nurse's station, the phone buzzed and she returned to me.

"The doctors need to see you now".

I wiped my hands on my shorts and followed her to Julie's room with my heart in my throat. I entered through a blue curtain covering the entrance of the emergency room and noticed Julie in a bed to the left with Purkey leaned over the railing on her right, holding her hand. Her face was bruised on the right side and there was a bit of swelling that puffed her up a bit. Her brown hair was matted as if it had been wet then dried as it lay there. A young doctor who could have been my age turned from her and shook my hand as he introduced himself as Dr. Fryburg, a neurosurgeon. He was a couple inches shorter than I, with blonde hair and glasses and spoke with a thick German or Austrian accent.

"Are you Dad?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am sorry about your son's accident. He has suffered a trauma to the left side of the brain and will need surgery. I have a form here that you need to sign giving us permission to go ahead with the procedure."

"Sam, I am so sorry.' Julie whispered in a light voice, barely audible. She was and had been crying. I took her hand and told it was ok, that everything was going to be fine. She told me she was sorry again and how she would never hurt those babies and how it had been an accident. I told her it was ok again and turned back to Dr. Fryburg.

"Is he unconscious?" I asked.

"Yes, he has been unconscious the entire time" he replied.

"No he hasn't," Julie blurted, "He was awake when he go there - I heard one of them say it."

"No, he hasn't been conscious," added Dr. Fryburg. Julie continued to argue what she had heard; he thought for a moment.

"He hasn't been awake since I have seen him."

I asked about the surgery - what was going to happen?

"He suffered a fracture on the left side. We need to go in there and remove the broken pieces, clean them up, and put them back. We also need to investigate the extent of the brain damage..."

That was the first time I had heard the words brain damage in reference to my oldest son. It struck hard. Dr. Fryburg continued.

"..and we may need to do something to alleviate the pressure. The brain will swell over a period of a couple days. Here's where you need to sign the form."

He showed me the forms and where we needed to sign. He kept explaining what was going to happen.

"When the brain is swelled against the skull, it is in a constant state of injury. We can try to deal with that using medication, but we'll have to see what everything looks like."

I thought for a few moments after signing the forms by the x's the nurse wrote on the paper. I was trying to get a perspective on the importance of the surgery even though I knew it was vital and this man had years of education and training, one who obviously knew more than I did. I knew the people at the hospital - the doctors and nurses, knew what was going on, or had an idea of the severity of the injury to Marshall, but at this time, and others, I wanted to hear the words come out.

"Ok, so what if we don't do the surgery, and I'm not suggesting that we don't - I'm just trying to get a perspective here, what will happen?" I asked.

Dr. Fryburg knew this was a serious situation and I felt he knew what I was asking when his face became still and his eyes focused through his glasses on mine.

"Your son will die."

Julie gasped and clutched Purkey's arm tighter. There it was, as plain and to the point as I thought I wanted it. For some reason, I had never thought he wouldn't survive. Of course, I knew there was the physical possibility that a six-year-old boy with this type of trauma would not live through this situation, but to me that didn't apply to Marshall. I actually felt calmer, because I felt I knew everything that was going on. Of course I didn't know anything of procedures or medicines, but I knew the plan and I knew the possibilities.

"All right. Let's do it. How long do you think it will take?"

"Well, we can't be sure - we have to get in there and see what the damage is..."

"Yes, sir I understand that, I just want a ball park idea - seven hours? Six?"

"Oh, no - about three or four."

I looked down at my watch and read 9:30; four hours would be 1:30.

"Is he where I can see him?" I asked.

"Sure," replied the young neurosurgeon.

I walked over to Julie and squeezed her hand as Dr. Fryburg spoke to a nurse before we left. She looked up at me through tearful, bruised eyes and said, "Sorry Sam."

I told her everything was going to be ok, that she needed to take care of herself and followed Dr. Fryburg out of the room to Marshall. I needed very much to get a good look at him before he went into surgery. As we walked down the hall, my heart began beating furiously. My mouth was dry and my hands were freezing again. He stopped at Marshall's door and pointed in and mentioned that I couldn't go in because everything was being sterilized. I walked straight to the door and looked in. At that moment I realized I should have taken a deep breath first as all the air left me.

Marshall was sleeping somewhat elevated in a hospital bed. His dark brown hair was matted and sticking out a bit on the sides. His eyes were bulging and deeply bruised; his face was rounded with the swelling. His ears were pushed forward from the swelling as well. Tubes ran into his arms and into his throat in a mass of squiggly plastic and fluids. Nurses scurried to his side and back again, almost like little birds at a summer mud puddle; darting in quickly for a drink, and then returning to some distant location. These ladies would go to his side quickly, with a needle or some sort of device for measuring something, or gauze. Just as quickly, they would move back to the cart of medical supplies for another piece of gauze, or alcohol sponge, or needle. Another fellow on the right turned switches and flipped buttons on a machine that had several red and green lights and lit up numbers. It appeared to be a breathing machine because it would push air into the tube that ran down Marshall's throat.

I looked objectively, trying to understand all that I could from the terrible picture in front of me. I had always seen the hospital shows on television, but I never figured I would be looking at my son like this. Of course, I knew the hospital visit was inevitable, how many children go through their lives without a trip to the emergency room for stitches or a broken bone? In my worst dreams, I never figured I would look at the swelled, rounded face of my boy heading into surgery to have the most delicate part of his body operated upon.

My heart pounded in my chest and down my arms to my hands, which were sweating again. I wiped them on my shorts as a nurse walked me away. After a few steps, I stopped and went back for a look. Not that I thought it was a last look, or that it might possibly need to be the last picture I would have of my son alive, but to say a quick prayer as I looked into his handsome face. The thought that he would die never entered my mind. The thought that the end result was a life without him never crept into my imagination, only that he was hurt and needed me, but I didn't know how he needed me, only that I had to be there for him.

Surgery

Dr. Fryburg caught up with me no more than ten steps away from the room and asked if I knew where the waiting room was. I mentioned that I had walked through one on the way to the emergency room, but he said not that one but the waiting room outside of surgery. When I replied that I hadn't, he led me to the elevator and down the hall to a large waiting room on the left. This one was very spacious and had a television and children's toys. He mentioned that this was the waiting room for surgery but that Marshall would probably go right into Pediatric Intensive Care, which was a bit further down the hall.

We came to a door on the right where he stopped and pushed a small button on the door jam. A click sounded from inside the mechanism inside the door knob, which he turned and walked on into the PICU waiting room, which was much smaller and had fewer toys and a smaller television. I told him thank you as he walked through the door to the PICU with a reassuring smile. I looked around the room and thought about the time I was about to spend in this place. Colorful chairs and sofas were spread throughout the room, around coffee tables and in front of the television. I decided I needed to find out how to get from Lewis to this room, so I made my way back to the Emergency room.

There was Lewis, bless his heart, still watching Pokemon like I had never left. Jamie was dutifully by his side, talking for Slither the snake to him. Ted was also there. I told them what was going on after I spoke to Lewis a minute. I didn't tell him anything about Marshall, other than he was sleeping. He looked very content and healthy, which was reassuring to me given the picture I just took of Marshall. Jamie mentioned that he would be going to a room soon, then wanted to know where the waiting room was. I asked Ted to stay with Marshall so I could take Jamie to the location. I sure couldn't describe the path to take through the elevators and hallways in the hospital maze.

I kissed Lewis and we went toward the elevators that would take us to the third floor. On the way I told her I didn't want to see anybody.

"I know there are going to be people here, but I don't want to see anybody right now. Momma and them are coming and your Momma and Mack are about thirty minutes behind them. Of course, they could be only ten minutes behind them by now \- Mack's driving. I guess we can bring them to this big waiting room here."

We went on back to Lewis for a few minutes then I walked back up to the PICU waiting room. I stopped at the door as Dr. Fryburg had done and rang the buzzer. A lady's voice came over an unknown speaker and asked if she could help me. I told her I was Marshall Lester's daddy and he was in surgery. The door clicked open and I took in the waiting room again and found a couple sleeping rooms and a small kitchen-type area with a refrigerator and a sink to the side of the main room. I had settled down as I walked from this room to Lewis and back - I didn't have a sense or purpose to my walk as I did before. I realized I was fidgeting and decided to sit on one of the sofas where I would be hidden from the door. I knew my family was coming and would be there within the hour but I didn't feel drawn to them or anyone else other than Marshall and what he needed. I thought again that I didn't have any idea what need of his I could take care of, but I knew I had to be there in case. I tried to sit with my forearms on my knees, forward, with my hands together. I felt this was the place for me to be and I stared hard into the coffee table and the Cosmopolitan magazine that lay there. I didn't concentrate or think of anything, just wild pictures ran through my mind. I wrung my hands and lightly gritted my teeth. I began to think of Marshall and how he looked.

I thought about the tubes and the wires that ran from machines and bags across his body and into his arms and throat. I thought about his brown eyes, the ones his Momma called 'honey-brown', and how they were bulged and hidden behind swelling and the purpleness of his eyelids. I thought about what he must have felt, flying through the truck window or door. I thought about crying.

Just like the emotion that welled up when I was in the truck on the way here, which seemed like days ago, I forced the tears back and swallowed hard. I was mad for letting it come over me like that and felt I was thinking of myself by letting these feelings come over me when Marshall should have been the only thing on my mind. I punched my hand into my fist and told myself to get after it - I spoke to no one in particular other than me.

"Be positive, nothing but positive. Here we go - think positive and be positive - next ball."

It doesn't make a great deal of sense now, but at the time it picked me up as I was sliding down.

I sat there for several minutes and tried to read a magazine then decided I shouldn't be reading about a revolution in bra design instead of concentrating on Marshall. There was a knock on the glass section of the door. I stood and pointed to the right where the buzzer was located. The nurse clicked open the door from her secret location and let them in. A young black man walked past me and into the unit. I returned to my seat on the sofa. The phone rang and I spoke to a nurse who told me that Lewis was being moved to room 5130, on floor five.

The PICU was on the third floor, so I took a trip up to the fifth in the elevator located right outside the PICU door. On the fifth floor there was another door that was opened by the nurse on the inside with the button. I smiled at her and said thanks as I walked down the short hallway on the right side of the nurse's station. Lewis' room was a few doors down – he was lying in the hospital bed with Jamie. She asked if I had heard anything about Marshall yet and I responded with no.

Lewis was snoring. I took a look around the small room. There was a daybed with a compartment under it that pulled out into another small bed that really was just a plastic covered mattress. There was a television hanging from the corner of the room on the right side of the bed; under it was a collection of shelves and a closet. On the left side of the bed were the sink and a door to the bathroom and shower. A great big window looked out over the street between the hospital and parking deck outside. It was all hospital-clean and seemed as comfortable as a hospital room could be.

Jamie asked about clothes for Lewis and I mentioned that Momma and Daddy were bringing some for them.

I gave Lewis a kiss and went right back upstairs to the PICU. I stopped along the way and got a Mountain Dew – one of the big 20-ounce size drinks. I probably hadn't had a dozen of them in the last three years, but I felt I needed some energy. The drink machine had one and I had the dollar to get it. I had a thought about the amount of time that I might be spending in this place. Would it be a week? Would it be a month? Six months? I thought I would have to take care not to get fat and sloppy by drinking too many of these things. I had worked very hard to lose sixty pounds a couple years ago and I didn't want to put it back on.

As I walked, I thought about work. Tomorrow was the first day of classes – I knew the people at school could take care of my classes and would be helpful with whatever I needed. I also realized that I didn't have any idea what might happen, so trying to plan anything wasn't the best idea – I needed to concentrate on Marshall. I walked back into the PICU and looked at the clock – 10:45. Marshall had been in for about an hour or so.

I walked over to the phone and called the nurse's station and asked about Marshall – if they had heard anything about how it was going. The lady told me that she wouldn't know anything but that she could phone the nurse in the operating room and connect us. This nurse came on the line to tell me they had just recently started and that he was stable and there were no problems. I thanked her for the information and promised I would try not to be a bother to her but I was an anxious dad. She understood and invited me to call back.

I sat back down in my spot on the sofa and wrung my hands and rocked. I was nervous again and hated waiting. I stared down at the Cosmopolitan again. Several minutes passed. A knock on the door brought my head up and I got up to open the door. It was my family.

I opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Momma gave me a teary hug and Daddy put his hand on my shoulder. Momma spoke.

"He's a tough little boy and you know it. He will be fine".

"Yeah, I know."

"Sam", Momma stared intently at me, "he will be fine. And you know it. He needs you to know it."

Momma said it so positively and so matter-of-factly, I felt reassured for the first time I had been at the hospital. I caught them up on what was going on with the surgery. They mentioned that my brothers would be coming up soon. Ben lived in Atlanta and Jack lived back home in nearby Montezuma.

We went down the hall to the larger waiting room and sat down to talk about things. They listened as I told the story as I knew it – they weren't especially happy about the details of the wreck.

"Not wearing a seatbelt." Momma mentioned.

"Well," I said, "he has done the same thing to me – popping off his seatbelt while we are going down the road." I was still angry with a lot of things; I was angry that it happened at all, I was angry with Julie, and I was angry with myself for not being there.

My brothers arrived at the hospital not long after Momma and Daddy and not long after that, Marshall came from surgery to the PICU. The nurse called and invited me to come on back.

Closer to Dying than Living

When I walked through the door into the hallway, I noticed a series of rooms on the left that were all made the same. They each had glass sliding doors and the hospital beds in the middle, and Marshall was in the bed of the second room from the door. A nurse took me over to a sink in the hallway and told me that I had to wash my hands with this soap every time I came back there. Anyone visiting would have to wash his or her hands, too.

I washed up and turned back to the doorway of the room. Inside, there were two nurses constantly moving back and forth to clean a spot here, give and injection into an IV line there, or to move him over a bit one way or the other. They taped around his catheter and carefully moved all of the tubes and hoses into a more organized mass of medicines and wires. There were four doctors in the room – one burly black man with a graying beard was the closest to Marshall and the most intent on what the computer screen was showing him. Behind him was a younger doctor who looked be from India followed by another younger white man with a nearly shaved head. A shorter lady was behind them. As the doctor moved around and felt Marshall, they watched his movements and the monitor as he did.

I kept my distance, just taking in the room and the equipment in it. I figured I would be in there a while.

Marshall was dead center in the room, behind the two glass sliding doors. On the immediate left of the doors once in the room was a small desk with shelves above it. Next to the wall on that side next to the desk was a small cart with all sorts of supplies – gauze, wipes, and hundreds of other little compartments with things I am as sure I didn't know what were as much as I was sure they might be needed. This cart was right alongside Marshall's position in the room, with enough space to comfortably walk through. On that side of the room next to the head of the bed was the IV stand. On this stand were four machines attached to a post and three or four bags of fluid hanging at the top. I could follow the lines of medicine from the bags into each of these machines and out again until they reached Marshall's arm or leg.

Behind the bed on the left side was a permanent-looking column that reached from floor to ceiling. Attached to this were several outlets for electricity or oxygen as well as a monitor that hung out slightly. This monitor had six or seven definitive elements that it monitored. I recognized the heart rate monitor by its telltale shape and rhythm. There was a loud beeping noise coming from it and one of the lines was flashing.

On the right side of the room were a sink and a toilet. Next to Marshall and straight across from the cart was a window, with the blinds closed as it looked into the other room. Next to the bed at the head was the respirator and it's curly, crinkly blue hose that ran to his throat. Its rhythm was that of breathing and its importance was immediately recognizable. Between it and the toilet was where the doctors stood. On the wall in the corner of the room was a grease board with some notes about medicine written on it.

The nurses scurried around as the ones in the pre-operative room had done – attending to all the things he needed and following the doctor's directions quickly and carefully. From time to time, they would stop and make notes on a large piece of paper at the desk. They moved quickly but very deliberately – they never seemed to rush or be rushed in anything they did. The younger doctors moved out of the room and stood in the doorway and hallway. The older doctor stood at the foot of the bed and stroked Marshall's leg. He looked to his left at me.

"You Dad?"

"Yes, sir. Sam Lester." I shook his hand.

"Tony Pearson-Shaver. Car wreck?"

"Yes, sir."

"He's a very lucky boy, but we are not out of the woods at all."

"Yes, sir. Can I ask a few questions?"

"Of course"

"What is everything in here? What are all the things here that he is hooked to?

"Well, let me say this. I'll tell you what the important stuff is – the nurses can tell you specifically what each tube is. Now, if you hear anyone say he is paralyzed, don't get upset. We have him paralyzed, basically, and heavily sedated. That why we have the respirator here, to breathe for him. We'll take care of that until he gets better."

"Are you beating his heart?" I asked.

"No, he is doing that, but that is about it. Beating his heart and getting better."

"Makes sense. Now I guess we are going to be using this monitor here a lot. What is important on this thing that I need to watch out for?"

"Ok, the top line up there in green is the respiration line, the pink one is ICP – Inter Cranial Pressure, the white one is his heart rate, the red one is his blood pressure. The ICP is the main one, it tells us about the pressure inside his brain."

"Because he is swelling".

"Right, the brain is swelling in there and has nowhere to go. The doctors in OR took some of his brain out, so that will help a little bit, but we have to watch him very carefully over the next few days and that ICP number is the one we watch. If it gets up too high, we can bring it down with medicine, which is what we are doing now."

We spoke a minute or so more then he asked if I had any more questions.

"Ok, obviously, we are in an intensive care room and he just had major brain surgery and all, but where exactly are we? How fragile are things?"

"He is in critical condition right now."

"Yes, sir, I know, but give it to me straight. Where are we, exactly?"

Dr. Pearson-Shaver turned and looked at me then looked back at Marshall. He reached out and touched his leg, patting it almost affectionately.

"Your son is closer to dying than he is to living."

There it was, just as plain as I wanted it. I had a location – a scale of good and bad and it was mostly bad. I knew that he wouldn't be completely ok after surgery, but the idea of not making it after surgery hadn't really crossed my mind. I guess I thought that if he lived through surgery then he would keep on living and the only real question was the kind of life he would have. Now it was a clearer picture – it was still life and death and we were leaning in the wrong direction.

He left and I thanked him for telling me his assessment in the terms I asked for. I walked around to the right side of the bed and watched the nurses continue to move about the room. The monitor would make beeping noises and they would look up and react to the particular line that was flashing, which usually meant medicine into one of the tubes running into his arms. Each time, they went through the same process: uncap the line running into his arm, wipe the spot, undo the cover of the syringe, insert the syringe, push the fluid into his veins, remove the syringe, wipe down the line, then put the cap back. Even though they would do this hundreds of times over the next days, their procedure never varied. No step was skipped and none were half-heartedly taken, either. These ladies were on the top of their game, so to speak.

I asked what the overall plan of action was, and we spoke for a few minutes on the 'if things go well then this' type scenario for each step. I tried to remember each step because having a plan was very important, not to just me, but to the other family members, too. For them and others not able to be right here in the room all the time, a plan was something they could hold on to or refer to, and also something they could easily report back to friends.

By now it was about six in the morning. Lewis was snoozing away in his room up on the fifth floor and there were relatives pouring into the waiting rooms on this floor. I stayed in the PICU room for quite a while, watching the nurses and watching over Marshall. I felt there was so much I needed to do, or more accurately, I felt I should be doing more. I was only watching what was going on, I didn't feel I was participating. The more I thought about being in this position, the more I realized I was in the game as much as I could have been – I am certainly not a doctor. I tried to decipher what the nurses were doing and I tried to remember what their procedures were. I asked several questions, but I was aware that I didn't want to be a pest, either, so I saved questions for later. From time to time the nurses would offer information; I guess the questions presented themselves on my face even though I might have been putting off asking.

They also spoke to Marshall, which I had not considered. I had been keeping a distance from Marshall since the doctors left several minutes ago. I was at the foot of his bed and I had not thought about going to his side, as intent as I was on watching and trying to learn what was being done. There was also a nurse on either side of him, which kept me back a bit because I sure didn't want to be in the way. I decided to report to the family and I left the room and took the few steps down the hallway to the waiting room door.

In the waiting room was my family. Even though they began in the larger room down the hall, they had migrated toward this waiting room, which was certainly closer than the other. My brother Jack rose from his seat to meet me.

The last time Jack had seen Marshall was at his house for a family gathering. Boys will be boys and Marshall had done something to cause Jack to get on to him. Jack couldn't stand thinking that he might die with his last thought of Uncle Jack being mad at him.

Jack threw his arms around me and broke into crying and asking if I thought Marshall knew he loved him. For the first and only time during this whole ordeal, my emotions got through and I cried. Briefly, then control came back and I was able to report to the family. I still don't know why or how I had this kind of control over my emotions, because I usually don't.

Momma came to us.

"How is he?" she asked.

"He is out of surgery, which went fine. He is hooked up to a lot of stuff and the nurses are working really hard on him – I also talked to his doctors a bit." I wasn't making a lot of sense, or at least I didn't think I was putting together a good group of thoughts to give them. I didn't want to tell them everything, because that would take too long, and I didn't want to tell them everything because I didn't want to upset anybody.

"Can we see him?" Momma asked. I thought about it for a bit and decided I needed her to see him but didn't want Daddy to go back there. I turned and open the door to the PICU and showed her where she was to wash her hands. She stood in the doorway and took a long, observant look at her first grandson.

Momma was watching and absorbing everything going on with Marshall just like I had done. She took in the monitors and beeps and tubes and the mass of all these things keeping him going. After several minutes she motioned me out of the room and back to the waiting room. We spoke for a few minutes and they went back down to Lewis.

Jack snuck into Marshall's room at some point and wrote 'Be Strong' on the grease board in the corner of his room. 'Be Strong' was a phrase in a poem that his basketball coach would recite to them when practice was tough, or after a loss. It was a phrase that helped carry them as a team and as individuals through their challenges. A few days later, the full poem would make its rounds through email once visitors and family heard about it. Some of them wrote out the poem and recited it to themselves right before praying for Marshall each day.

Be strong!  
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;

We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;

Shun not the struggle-face it; 'tis God's gift.

Be strong!

Say not, "The days are evil. Who's to blame?"

And fold the hands and acquiesce - oh shame!

Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.

Be strong!

It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,

How hard the battle goes, the day how long;

Faint not - fight on! Tomorrow comes the song.

_The author is Dr. Maltbie Davenport Babcock_

Email

Calls started pouring in at about 8 that Saturday morning. Jamie was good enough to man the telephone in the waiting room. Somebody came up with a notebook for her to write down the calls. All the family members called; aunts, uncles, cousins, church members, and friends.

Lewis was checked out of the hospital right before dinner and played around in the waiting room with family members. He had lots of distractions, hopping around from aunt to uncle to cousin and back again. I guess it helped distract them as well.

We decided to send Lewis back down to Byromville for a few days with Mrs. Wanda. That would help everyone; he wouldn't be happy at the hospital.

These couple days were spent watching Marshall and the nurses, or relaying information to family members outside. If Marshall's situation was unchanged for a while, I would step out to the waiting room to see whomever had come to visit. I didn't get to see everyone but everyone's names were taken down in the notebook. Some family members would come back to see Marshall but most did not. I slept in the family room that was attached to the waiting room on Sunday night after Marshall's nurses all but demanded that I do so. After that first night of sleep, I slept in the room with him.

Something occurred to me early Monday morning when I was walking around the hospital outside of the McDonald's after breakfast. I was very aware at that time of all the many different facilities the hospital had – if they had a McDonald's then maybe they have internet access in their patient outreach rooms?

Lucky for me they did. I have been teaching accounting and computer classes for about seven years, so I knew how to check my email from a remote computer. Pretty neat trick Jeff had shown me – I decided to try to send an email to people back home. I walked into the patient outreach room and noticed the computer was on the left side with bookshelves containing all sorts of books for kids of all ages. There was a patient in the room reading an old book about a cat and a hat and giggling at the pictures with her mom.

The computer fired right up and I loaded what I needed to put together an email. I figured to send it to Jeff at school to let my friends there know, my Aunt Marianne to let my family know, my advisor at UGA, and Julie's uncle Jim to reach that side of the family.

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Jeff -

A quick update:

At 9am this Monday, Marshall was about 3 ½ days into the swelling, which we can presume began at the time of the accident. The neurosurgeons have said that swelling lasts 2 to 5 days - we may be on the beginnings of improvement. Last night wasn't as good as the previous two - the main thing we watch is pressure on his cranium, and it needed medication a number of times. However, the medication was working to bring it down, its effectiveness is very important. He will go for a CAT scan this morning. The neurosurgeon's words this morning were, 'so far, so good'.

He isn't out of the woods yet - this is still life and death, but each hour brings us closer to the time when the doctor will say that his life is no longer in danger. Please keep praying. You are all saving his life just as though you were pulling him out of a burning building or from the path of a car. I will live the rest of my life trying to thank you all for your part in trying to save my boy's life.

I'll try to update as much as I can. Thank you again.

It felt good to get an update down on paper. I hoped it would let folks know what was going on straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. I thought it would be a good idea to get into a sort of a routine. I would sleep with Marshall, then Dr. Fryburg would make his rounds about 6:30 in the morning. I would wait for Momma to get there from the hotel at about8, then go get dressed at the hotel and eat breakfast at McDonald's. Then I could email what had been going on so far. I would also try to email about 4 or 5 that evening if there was something to report. That would keep me moving around a good bit and would also let me get away for a while without getting too far away.

That Monday afternoon, I sent this email:

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

A quick update: Marshall just got back from a CAT scan, but I do not have any more information as the doctors have not yet gotten together with me about their findings. This room I am in with this computer closes at 4:30, so I thought I had better give some news that I had. His afternoon has been fairly good, as we approach the 94th hour. I have been told that the main threat is between 72-96 hours, so I am relieved at the state we are in at the moment. However, knowing Marshall, he'll try to stir something up in the 97th hour - just to see if he can!

Thanks again for the prayers and concern. I'll never be able to put into words or deeds how much this means to me.

Tuesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

An update (9 am on Tuesday)

Finally got the CAT (now known as CT - ??) scan results back and they showed no bad news. The contusions are no larger and there are no additional ones. The contusions there have begun to change colors, which might indicate healing. The doctor said things like - 'on track' and 'signs of improvement' and said guardedly that we may have turned the corner. Bear in mind, he said, that we still have to give him medicine to keep up his blood pressure and lower his ICP (cranial) pressure, so he is still critical. It is still life and death - please keep praying.

Thank you all for helping save my boy's life.

I am gearing up to be here at least a month. It is strange how the hours and days don't mean much when you are up at night and sleep during the day. I could be wide awake at 3am and sleepy at noon. Weird. Before you go worrying about me and sleep, I have a bit of a schedule figured out. Momma is here and won't let me get out of line.

Lewis comes back up here tomorrow after a visit home with Julie's Momma. I think he will spend time at a nearby aunt's house swimming for a day or so.

Thanks again - I can feel your support from up here.

Tuesday afternoon

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

No news to report, which means he isn't backing up. It is going to be slow, slow progress the next weeks. They did hear some bowel sounds, which leads them to believe they can try some more solid food in his tummy as opposed to an IV. Among other things, this will get the GI area into action; apparently the research shows that pediatric trauma patients improve better with something in their tummy. Thanks again for your and everyone else's prayers.--

Wednesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

An update (a.m. on the 12th)

Decent night last night, they have changes to another couple of drugs to keep the cranial pressure down. My impression is that it is taking more drugs and more often to keep the pressure down, which may be normal. That's a question for the docs. We gave him some food in his tummy, but he didn't really respond to it - it just sort of sat there. We'll try again today. Another CT (the scan formerly known as CAT) scan this morning around 11 - hopefully with good news.

I have always tried to support Dr. Logan's blood drive at my school. My Granddaddy gave over six gallons in his life - I am up to a whole gallon and a half. In my attempt to win the contest (the most donors from an 8 o'clock class), which incidentally I am the reigning 8-time champion, I mention that giving blood essentially saves the life of three other people. Little did I know how close to home that would come one day. Marshall had to have three pints in surgery on Thursday and two since then. A distinctly different perspective.

Thanks, as always, for your support and most importantly, your prayers. We have heard of prayers from not only the Baptist but also the Methodist communities - they agree on this at least. Churches from all over the state have been contacted by the dozens of truly great friends we have. Our friends in the Jewish community and the Catholic community have prayed for Marshall. The Episcopalian convention in Denver is praying for my boy as well. We have friends in the Pentecostal as well as the AME and CME churches praying for Marshall. I don't care if someone sends smoke signals to the Thunderbird, as long as it gets my son well. Scotland prays for Marshall, as does South Africa and other countries.

Thank you all for everything you have done. Please keep praying.

Wednesday afternoon-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

A PM update—

We just got a CAT scan back that showed no bad news, which it could have. According to the doctors, we are where we should be. The plan is that if a few positive things happen and no bad night tonight, they may begin weaning him off the various elements that are keeping him alive (ventilator first, then sedation, etc., several days to the process). By no means are we out of the woods yet - but possibly progress is being made toward the moment they tell me my boy's life has been saved.

Thank you again for your continued prayers - please don't let up.

Thursday morning -

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Thursday AM

Pleze fergive mi sumtimes bayud spailing. This eemale editer dudn't have spaihl cheker. ;-)

We had two different nights last night. From 6 to 11:30 or so, he didn't need any medicine to bring his ICP (cranial pressure) down, which I think is the biggest stretch so far. However, from 12 to 6 he needed it about four times, which isn't more than usual though. He is holding his food well from yesterday, which is an improvement. Very slow going....

With the dose at 11:30 last night, the ISP came down to 14. He had been steady around 20, which is the highest number the doctors will take. The alarm system goes off when it hits 26, which is responded to with the drugs if it remains that high. These numbers fluctuate up and down constantly, but not drastically. It'll be 18, then 20, then 21, then 20, then 21, then 20, then 19, then 20......that sort of rhythm. He is settling in around 18-20 this morning so far. As a point of reference, the normal ISP for an adult in a stressful situation (insert stressful situation involving bosses here) is 10.

I am sure Marshall will need some rehabilitation, but so will Lewis. That young 'un is getting SO spoiled! Seriously, his little bruise on his shin is healing nicely, as are the abrasions on Marshall's cheek and shoulder. It is good to see healing on the outside - it gives hope of healing on the inside.

Thanks again for all of your prayers, I sure do appreciate them.

Friday morning

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Update Friday AM - Not much news. A fairly good day yesterday, the doctors have decided to slowly drip his medicine that brings down the ICP (cranial pressure) now that it has steadied somewhat (around 18). His food was handled well yesterday, but he has developed some kind of rash on his arms from something. I don't know if it is from the food; I did suggest to the nurses that they puree some meatloaf. That young'un can put away some meatloaf!

Anyway, each hour brings us closer to going home. Thank you for your continued prayers and overwhelming support. I am humbled by everyone's acts of generosity, kindness, and caring for my Marshall. Thank you all.

That weekend, Lewis spent time back home with my Aunt Shelley, Momma's sister. I believe they were sitting in the den watching tv when Lewis started playing with the mirror Momma uses to fix her hair in the mornings when she sits on the sofa. Aunt Shelley was amused at him checking himself out in the mirror and took it from him. She told him hold the mirror up and say 'Standing up straight and looking good!" When he told me this story he took a mirror we had in the hospital room and said, "Standing up tall and looking good". I thought that it was a good theme for Marshall's rehabilitation.

My very close friend at work, Jeff Scruggs and his wife Kelly drove up to Augusta to see us and gave me a card that would be most important to my attitude and my ability to make it through all of this. In the card was a handwritten note from Kelly that ended with "Bear ye one another's burdens and in doing so fulfill the law of Christ" from Galatians 6:2. This was a reminder to me that there were others who loved Marshall – friends, family, co-workers, and students – who were bearing our burden by praying and keeping us in their thoughts.

Monday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Monday morning update:

What a weekend - this resource room is locked up during that time, so I couldn't email the progress we have made.

The doctors inserted a drain into the top of Marshall's noggin, and the ICP (cranial pressure) range went immediately from 18-22 down to 7-10, which is normal. Since we were able to do that and manage the ICP's a great deal better, we have been able to wean him off many of his drugs. He is off his heart medicine, with no effect. He is off his blood pressure medicine, with no effect. He is off his 'paralysis' medicine, with noticeable effect. He moves virtually every part of his body; hands, feet, shoulders, eyes, etc., albeit mostly involuntarily. He has made some 'voluntary' movement toward scratching a rash he has developed, possibly as a reaction to some of his medicine. He has also coughed and made other respiratory efforts. And, not for the squeamish, he has pooped. Very inspiring to see (not the poop, all the improvements) and the doctors have noted the ease in which he has come off most of his medicine.

He is still on an anti-seizure medicine but will go home taking that stuff. His morphine (for sedation more so than pain) is down to a small amount as is his other sedative. At this time, he is in a drug-induced sleep. We will begin to wake him when he shows control over his lungs, etc. He has essentially gone from 7 IV's to 3....

Very inspiring and possibly good news - it dang sure ain't bad news! We begin looking now for neurological signs of either possible injury or a lack of an injury.

We haven't been told that he is out of danger yet, but each hour brings us closer. Thank you for your prayers and support; each seem to be endless. I appreciate each of you and love you for what you are doing for my boy.

Thank you again.

Monday evening-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Monday PM - Marshall continues to move around, mostly with the left side of his body - but that isn't a concern. The physical therapist came by and moved muscles around and was also very pleased. The plan is to try to take him off the ventilator tomorrow and see if he can breathe on his own.

Next in line will be to lower his sedation and see if he can wake up.

Needless to say, I like being able to be a bit more proactive about what we are doing.

Thanks again for everything—

Tuesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Marshall is going to survive.

One of the neurosurgeons, Dr. Fryburg, told me this morning that he had a better than 50% chance of surviving, but there are such things as unforeseen complications. Later, when I was away getting cleaned up, Dr. Flannery told Julie matter-of-factly that he would definitely survive. 280 hours after the wreck, the good news comes.

You have saved his life. Thank you.

The MRI cleared his neck collar for removal, so we can now begin to turn him in his bed. Also, Occupational and Physical Therapy folks will begin working on his muscles—partly in keeping all of them healthy, partly in probing what injuries he has and what the subsequent physical responses are. There is nothing to expect; he has some movement, albeit mostly involuntary.

The ventilator has been cut down to nil. He is taking 15-18 breaths per minute, the ventilator is providing .5 of those, plus a stream of oxygen. In a few minutes after his nasty formula has settled more in his tummy, we will remove the tube that runs into his lungs and see how he does.

We had a bit of trouble last night with him coming out of his sedation and coughing and wriggling around, annoyed at the tube. When it is removed, I am sure they will remove more of the sedation and see if he wakes up. Again, there is nothing expected; he could awaken and say good morning or he could awaken as a two-year old. A lady in the waiting room related a story to me about that very thing happening to a 12 year old. Days later, he was completely normal.

Big steps taken, many to go.

Dr. Fryburg came and removes his staples and stitches from his head. We had a very in depth talk about neurosurgery and what they did. It is nothing short of science fiction what they are able to do now.

There was a question of spinal fluid leakage from the hairline fracture above his left eye, but that problem is very unlikely now. The shunt insertion remains a very good possibility, but that decision will probably come on Monday.

Hug your children and for God's sake put them in a seatbelt. If I see a child not wearing one, someone will have to answer to me.

Again, and for the rest of my life, thank you for what you have done. I can't ever say enough strongly enough or often enough for what you have done. Thank you.

Tuesday afternoon-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Marshall didn't like being without the ventilator, so we had to put him back on it. He was off for a bit, but the swelling caused us to put him back on the thing - rather intense moments there. This staff at the Medical College of Georgia is without par. From the janitor to the Chief of Staff (who occasionally comes to me with questions regarding medicine) are all the picture of compassion and professionalism. I cannot say enough about the folks here.

Anyway, we tried to go forward but couldn't. He will be on some steroids to bring the swelling down and we'll try again day after tomorrow.

This isn't a setback by any means, it is just second down - to use a football term. It dang sure isn't a step back!

Thank you for the prayers- please keep them coming!

There were a number of doctors – residents – that were a part of the group caring for Marshall. They were learning a great deal from this experience but as they were leaving the room after putting the tube back in Marshall, they looked dejected and a little defeated. Their intention had been to take the tube out and leave it out. They gathered outside with the head doctor to review the events and discuss what had happened. This was all a part of their own learning process. I asked the doctor if I could say something and I told them the idea of 'next ball'. This was not a step backward; it was just not as forward as we had wanted. There wasn't a dad gum thing we could do about what had happened but what we could do was focus on what was in front of us. I think they understood where I was coming from and a couple would come to me later and tell me they appreciated what I had said.

Wednesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Not much to update - yesterday the tube came out and the tube went back in. He has returned to a sedated and paralyzed (by medicine) state to rest up - we may try again tomorrow. He had a very restful night last night and all day today in an attempt to let the swelling in the throat come down. His lungs and the connection to his brain for breathing was fine, simply a problem with swelling made the tube return to his throat.

He is moving the right side of his body a bit more today and may have responded to a 'squeeze my hand' command last night.

I can't remember (among many other things) if I mentioned the status of his hip. There was speculation that he may have fractured his hip but they have told us that he is ok - essentially the only injury he had was to his noggin. The few scrapes have all healed and the rash has also gone away.

Thanks, as always, for your concern and prayers.

Thursday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

A bit of a tough night last night after a restful day yesterday. Marshall decided to produce more and more yuck in his lungs that required a bit of suctioning about each hour. Likely he won't be getting the tube out today because of concern over his ability to then cough that stuff out. The doctors haven't made their rounds yet, so I do not know the exact course of action. I'll let y'all know.

Keep praying for Marshall, please. I am honored by all the people who have prayed so far - more is needed until we can get home. Thank you all for everything you have done—

Snaggle-tooth Grin

During this time, in a classroom at Middle Georgia Tech, Mrs. Anne Sartain was teaching a nursing class. Every day, she would walk in with a copy of the most recent email I had sent, which she then read to the class. There were a number of students in the class including two young ladies who listened very intently and cried at nearly every email. Each day, Mrs. Sartain would read the emails and the girls would cry.......

One evening not long after our wedding, my wife Amanda and I were entertaining a few of our friends at our house in Warner Robins. There were lots of friends and great conversations that eventually led to the question of when Amanda and I had met. I couldn't remember the exact moment when we met, but Amanda knew for sure. She told me that she met me before she ever saw me and I remember looking at her with a very confused look on my face, I am sure.

I had to ask, "How do you meet me before you even see me?"

Amanda replied, "When I was in Mrs. Sartain's class and you and Marshall were in Augusta, she would read the emails to us every day and Jill and I would cry our eyes out. That is when I met you and that is when I knew I wanted to meet you in person."

Friday afternoon-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

At 1:55, they took the tube out of Marshall's throat.

At 3:50, he looked at me and smiled. More than once.

There have been thousands of smiles that little boy has given me, but none will be bigger than that one.

I am sorry this is brief, but this room shuts down at 4:30 for the weekend and I wanted to get this out. You have all brought this little boy back to his daddy and I will never be able to say how much I thank you all for it. Thank you for the prayers - they work.

Momma was in the room on the other side of the bed when I walked in the room. She mentioned that his eyes had fluttered a few times and I looked over into the bed and saw what she was talking about. His eyes would slowly open then they would look in different directions then close again. I leaned over and said "Hey buddy, your Daddy's here". His eyes came together and looked right at me and he smiled, just as I described in the email. We hugged. I said right then that if he never got any better that it would be fine by me.

Momma immediately called Daddy to let him know. It being Friday, he was on interstate 20 on the way to the hospital for the weekend. He pulled over onto the shoulder of the busy road, walked over into the grass and prayed and gave thanks to God for this miracle.

That weekend, several more of my friends from work came up to visit. Carol Kuhn sat with me on one of the sofas in the waiting room and gave me a wad of money. $634.27, collected from jars that someone had placed around campus. Students and staff at the school had dropped in change for the past few weeks. $20 would have been amazing but that amount was unbelievable. Another example of being lifted up that I remember and appreciate.

Monday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Good morning—

Monday Morning Update:

What an amazing 72 hours! Marshall opened his eyes and smiled at me one day, the next he is eating green jello and drinking tea from a straw! He has fairly good movement on his left side; he only moves his right side rarely. I did play with him and 'attacked' his arm and leg on that side, both of which he moved. He reaches out to grab toys can wipe his mouth and wave good-bye.

The neurologist came in and asked him to raise two fingers, which he did! I missed it - when I got in and asked him to do the same, he raised one finger and smiled! There is some personality intact! He has shown small motor skills by ripping off the electrodes that measure heart rate and stuff at least a dozen times. We haven't spoken yet, but we may have heard a 'no' yesterday.

The obvious question is to what degree is all of this improvement? The neurologist said that the improvements would be great at first then level out a bit and become slower. The physical therapist was very impressed with his improvements, I daresay excited.

Today we will be moving to a regular room! Likely, it will be on the fifth floor; we don't have a number yet. If you were to call, he might be listed under Samuel Marshall Lester, as that is his whole name. The night of the accident, the folks here separated the three of them. Lewis was the least hurt, so he directed traffic. Doctors were asking about Samuel Marshall Lester - Lewis set them straight. "The Big Boy", he added, because that is what Marshall called himself when you asked him what his whole name was: Samuel Marshall Lester the Third, the Big Boy. Lewis is back home with Momma this week. He was able to get in and see Marshall a great deal this week. Of course, Marshall smiled when he saw his brother.

Thank you all again. As I mentioned to my preacher yesterday morning, the Good Lord is alive and well! Thank you for all of your prayers and concerns - they absolutely work.

These hours were like a blur. When you've almost lost something and yet you have it returned, you hold on to it and smother it and do not want a breath to go by without it.

Monday evening-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Monday PM update—

Nothing new, really. We don't have a room as yet but one is right around the corner, I'm sure. It is my understanding that the next few days will be spent on the regular wing of the children's hospital. Once he is weaned from his medications, we will then decide on a rehab location. I am not totally up to speed on this yet but from what I understand we will have rehabilitation (obviously) but the location is up to us. Problem is, not too many places have a Pediatric section.

I am hoping for Macon as the most likely close place to home. I know there is a place in Atlanta and Savannah...

The therapists came by today and woke him up (he slept from 6am to 3 pm) for therapy and he responded well. They sat him up in bed and other movements. At times he will cry, though his throat is still very sore. Could be from realizing his injuries and inabilities (for now), but it could be a result of the injury to that section the controls emotions and they run rampant a bit. He sure does smile a lot!

Thank you all again and again for your constant prayers and concern.

Tuesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Tuesday morning—

We slept! All night! Well, from 11 to 7 anyway....

We are now in our own room, 4911. The phone number here is 555/721-5431 --please notice that the phone number is not the same as the room number, which would just make too much sense.

We ate a cheeseburger and french fries last night. Marshall still can't talk, so it is hard to know if he is hungry. I dangled a cookie in front of him late yesterday and he took my right index finger off at the third joint. This morning, he had pancakes.

I worked a lot on Marshall's right side yesterday - holding down his left and making him play with his right. He is very aware of his injury and his inability to move his arm and gets upset about it, so I really emphasize positively. After a little sponge bath, I got him to dry himself off using only his right - very exciting.

Dr. Fryburg, neurosurgeon, came by to check on Marshall this morning. His word were "Amazing", when Marshall gripped his hand with his right. "We did not expect this kind of recovery", he said. Later, he said again, "His recovery is amazing".

Dr. Fryburg, meet Marshall Lester. Ought not be a surprise to those who personally know this very independent young boy.

Thank you to everyone who has been praying - please remember what has happened and continues to happen here. Thanks again.

Rehab

Wednesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Tuesday, no, Wednesday morning update—

Took a trip to the Physical Therapist yesterday. Marshall is a little weak in the trunk and neck areas, partly because he was still for 16-17 days, but he was able to ride in the wheelchair with his head down. At PT, we threw bean bags and kicked a big ol' ball, and other fun stuff. We stretched muscles and did what the PT lady asked us to do. When we returned, he slept for 3 ½ hours - he was whooped!

Speech Therapy came by later that afternoon and worked a bit on speech. The tube down the throat really tears up the vocal cords, but he has been able to say no and yes in a very raspy, painful voice. It'll come.

We had another good night of sleep - so good, that the nurse came in to take blood from his arm this morning and he didn't even flinch. He finally got up about 8....

He has eaten pancakes, a muffin, and OJ this morning, yesterday, he ate spaghetti, so the eating is coming around. Every medicine given to him is now oral, with the exception of the IV nutrients that may be discontinued today, but the central line will remain until we go.

He has better movement with his right arm and leg, but not yet equal to his left. He clapped for me yesterday, with effort. Little developmental steps everyday - he is having to 'run new pipes' so to speak, and it takes time.

Thank you for your calls and prayers, I appreciate them all!

Thursday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Thursday late am update—

Sorry! Sorry! Jeff called this morning to say that several people had called him wondering why he was so slow getting the update out. Y'all, your concern absolutely overwhelms me. I appreciate your wanting to know how Marshall is progressing - thank you so much for caring about him.

We made great strides yesterday and this morning - four, in fact. This morning while his Momma slept, I stood him up, he got his legs under him real solid, stuck his arms around my neck, and he walked four or five steps to the wheelchair so we could go to McDonald's for some pancakes.

Also, last night about 2am, he decided he wanted to talk, talk, talk. His voice is still sore; that is, a raspy whisper and he doesn't try too many words, but he did go over Momma, Daddy, thirsty—words like that. He had a fit—we had fed him some Waverly crackers (they're good!) and he started getting upset. Julie couldn't figure it out. He pointed, she couldn't figure out where, only that it was in the direction of the grease board. She finally understood that he wanted her to write down each cracker, as we take notes on each thing he eats! When he finally got her to understand what he meant, he whispered 'yes, yes, yes!'

More therapy today - he can hold his head up for a good bit longer, and his movements on the right side continue to improve. The speech therapist will also work some today - she came during a 3-hour nap yesterday. We have been working with some building blocks to work on our dexterity - it improves as well.

Thank you all for what you do and have done for Marshall.

Friday morning -

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Happy Friday—

Marshall's recovery is incredible. Yesterday he walked (with me holding him up) around the rehab gym, he walked to the bathroom, and he walked outside to the patio and back. This morning we walked into the bathroom and took a bath. He continues to hold his head up very well, without much of a bobble anymore.

His therapist made a point to come by before she went home yesterday to tell us how remarkable his progress was and how important it was to have early success. Both therapists have given me the impression that his recovery is way, way above the curve, so to speak, without actually saying so. Do you know what I mean? I really think they want to say wonderful things, but they refrain from using that kind of language. They did say that he had 'significant improvement' over the day before.

I asked the lady about the plateau he'll reach in his recovery. That is, he will show great progress early, then the progress will taper off a bit. My understanding was that this 'plateau' occurs at 4-6 months. She agreed. I said that in 4 months, if he keeps improving as he is, he will just like he was before the wreck. She replied that it was 'very exciting'. I said 'hey, don't use the word exciting. Exciting gets me excited, ok?'

He read the word Godzilla off the grease board.

He said "Daddy, I want some pancakes' this morning. Most, well 60% of his language is a bit garbled and it is all raspy - but it is sure stronger than yesterday.

We used the restroom facilities on a few occasions. (Sorry, Momma, I didn't know how to report that)

He continues to smile and play jokes. His right eye is a little droopy, but it also shown improvement over yesterday.

He solved a puzzle while standing with help in rehab yesterday.

I expect he will be able to lie down on his stomach and lift his trunk and head up on his elbows today. That takes an awful lot of effort, but he is close to it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all the folks who continue to pray for Marshall during his rehabilitation and recovery. I appreciate each of you tremendously and I can't wait to see you again. I fully expect my boy to walk out of this hospital some time. Considering the condition in which he was delivered to this place, that is nothing short of a miracle that was pulled off because of your support and love. Thank you.

This weekend, a few friends flew up and I met them at the airport. We drove across the street to a little bar for lunch and I was thankful to be away from the hospital for a while. Still, only an hour or so had passed and I was feeling antsy and anxious to get back.

Monday morning -

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

What an amazing weekend—this kid keeps surprising me! Friday at rehab, he was able to sit cross-legged on a swing and hold himself up for a count of 6 -- and that was pretty amazing!

Saturday, he sat on a bench with his feet on the floor and could have sat there all day. This after he literally jumped out of the wheelchair to the surprise of his Daddy and his therapist. There he was, all of a sudden, just standing there with this grin on his face....he also stood on his own for a count of 11...and we thought that was pretty amazing!

Until Sunday. Yesterday, he WALKED on his own to each of his stations for exercise, dunked a bean bag into a basketball goal, WALKED up stairs to wave at Granddaddy, bent down to pick up items on the floor several times, and stood by himself with no help—well, we quit counting at 30...

I can't wait to see what we can do today!

After speaking with the Pediatric Rehabilitation lady, there is a tentative schedule that has us here in rehab for two more weeks, then as an outpatient at a yet-to-be-determined site. If there is a worthwhile site close to home, then we'll move home and travel to the site for rehab every day. School starts for the boys on the 14th - Julie has plans to home school Marshall until he can get back to school. I don't plan on sending him to school until he can do what the other kids can do; that is, if they can go out for recess, then he should be able to do the same. The main abilities that get him out of here is the ability to walk around by himself and know where he is going. Cognitively, there isn't any trouble with that.

Speech-wise he is coming along slowly. He can say a great number of words, but he still has trouble with most of what he tries to say - possibly because he is trying to expand what he says. Earlier, most of what he said was understood because it was simple words, now he is more difficult to understand possible because of his expanded attempts at vocabulary.

A great weekend! We are looking forward to another good week—

Thank you all for your amazing support and for your prayers!

Tuesday morning -

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Not a whole lot to update—Marshall decided he wanted to sleep on the little - and I do mean little - side bed that Julie has been sleeping on, so he hopped right out of his bed, walked on over and got in without help!

Yesterday, we walked to the 1st floor gift shop. We walked to the 2nd floor to visit the rehab ladies. We walked to the 3rd floor to visit the PICU doctors. We walked to the play room. Sometime around 1 o'clock or so, we decided we just didn't need to hold Daddy's hand anymore, we could do it ourselves. Since then, for the most part, Marshall has walked on his own. I still need to be close, though....

I was down here on the first floor working on some afternoon emailings, when I looked up and there he was with Rehab lady in tow. I quit what I was doing and went on with them. We took the stairs to the second floor, did some rehab, then took the stairs on up to the fourth floor—all this without help!

The rehab gurus meet today to discuss where we and all the other rehabbers are and what the plan is for each.

Speech continues to give us trouble. A lot of what he says is gobbledy-gook, but his expressions say that they mean something to him. At breakfast this morning (we snuck out to McDonald's) he plainly said "ready to leave now". The sounds are there, the words are up there, it is just a matter of re-wiring the noggin. It'll take some time - no problem - we have a lot of time!

Your prayers and your support are what is giving us the great progress we are enjoying - please keep praying!

Thanks—

That afternoon, Marshall and I rode the elevator down to rehab. I pushed him to the doorway and let him out. He walked around the wheelchair and pushed it through the doorway and down the long hall to the row of other wheelchairs. I told the lady there that Marshall wanted to bring back this wheelchair in case another kid wanted it because he did not need it anymore.

Wednesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Ok, I am sorry it took 'til 11:15 for me to start the update, I am aware that we do have some Marshall Update Junkies out there and I do appreciate you!

We had rehab this morning from 9 to 11; Physical, Occupational, and Speech. We go again from 2:30 on - rather intensive, but he is responding well.

He can now easily walk without help and even outran me to the elevator this morning, although I ran into the custodial cart ;-)

He can now bend quickly and pick things up from the ground.

We played baseball this morning and batted both lefty and righty. We even fielded some and instead of tagging Daddy out, he decided throwing the ball would be much more fun....

Help with the spelling: we also played jai lai? Remember the little scoop and ball thing? He did that pretty good and had fair lateral movement toward the ball....

Let's see...we colored and stayed within the lines even better than we did before we got hurt, we wrote our name with very little input. We had some concern about eyesight, but he took a tiny geometric shape with a tiny hole in it and nailed it to a board with a tiny nail, so I don't think his eyesight is in trouble.

We have really got to work on speech. As I said earlier, the words are there, albeit somewhat scrambled, it is just a matter of re-plumbing the pipes. He can still read some tough words, but he also calls a collection of clothes 'animals'. Repetition, I think, is the key.

There is still a bit of trouble communicating. If you lined up a group of pictures of food, he could tell us what he wanted; to ask him out of the blue usually doesn't return a clear response.

Everything certainly looks good - if it is a matter of work and time, we have this thing licked!

Thanks, as always for your thoughts and prayers!

Thursday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

We are up to our neck in rehab! I am afraid that around now will be the soonest I can get an email out, as we start promptly around 9 - 9:30. Rather than enjoying a Marshall update for breakfast, you can now enjoy one at dinner!

Yesterday, he needed help in crossing a balance beam on the floor - today he can go four steps before needing help—tomorrow?

Yesterday, he took a fall when he and I were playing soccer at rehab - I thought to myself that that was the first time I had seen him fall down in over a year. He is still responding well to all the rehab ladies...

We had a bit of a speech test today. Lots of cognitive elements throughout the thing; he did pretty well on the reception part. That is, when asked to pick an item from a picture of several items, he was very successful. When asked to pick the largest smallest, etc. he did well. There were questions such as which if the children is sleeping? Which picture has three fish? Which is the triangle? And other questions like these - he did great.

On more complex questions, such as, which is the small black kitten in the box, he didn't get right. He is rather impulsive when answering - trying at times to answer before the question was all the way done, which apparently is indicative of head injuries.

He still cannot verbalize his wants, etc., very well - but that will come with time.

The staff here is still in the process of getting us quality rehab folks back home - hopefully, we will be able to find worthwhile rehab close, but there may be a need to receive it in Atlanta. For how long? Can't really tell, but great progress is still being made, thanks to all the prayers he still receives.

Friday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Sorry 'bout the tardy update - we are busy with the rehab. Their schedules are loose; sometimes they can't get to us at the appointed time.

Marshall continues to amaze. Today, he walked all the way down the balance beam that he needed 100% help with on Wednesday. He has been able to run a bit more as well and his footwork and lateral movement with soccer is such that he can move the ball in and out of a network of cones. He still falls down from time to time and comes to Daddy, but we get over it quickly and get on the next task.

Still have a bit of a time with his speech. Again, he can receive well - it is the transmitting that gives trouble. We said our prayers last night and he repeated what I said as he always does. Since this was longer phrases, I was able to notice that his voice is a bit different, but not bad at all.

We plan to use a 4-hour pass this weekend to go to Chuck E Cheese for a gathering to celebrate Lewis' 4th birthday. If it is too overwhelming, he and I are going to just leave and find something else to do. We must go by Kroger to find this young'un something he wants to eat!

We did eat well last night - two chicken legs and mashed potatoes, but only three bites of Froot Loops for breakfast...

Thank you all again for your support and prayers. I hope that we can all look at this as a learning experience for our faith not only in our religion, but the medical world and the power of family and friends. In my mind, this has been a model for others to follow. Thanks.

Monday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Monday morning—

Good morning, I hope everyone had a great weekend!

The powers-that-be meet on Tuesday and we expect that they will let us get out of here on Wednesday. The folks here have been trying to track down an appropriate place for rehab in our neck of the woods; as soon as they do, I think we'll be ready to go.

There are three main areas of rehab - Physical therapy, Occupational Therapy, and Speech therapy. As far at PT goes, he is as good as finished. The best PT for him now is to go outside and play! Climbing (he'll be wearing a helmet for the next year or so) and things will bring back his balance and strength more and more. His running will also improve the more he does it. OT will probably continue for four or five weeks, and Speech will continue for several months. Amazing, miraculous recovery - nothing else!

Most of the words we want from him can be cued easily with a phonetic hint, such as the initial sound. More and more words come freely from him, and less and less gibberish.

The weekend was great - we had a four-hour pass to go to Chuck-E-Cheese up here to celebrate Lewis' 4th birthday, which is tomorrow. We went yesterday on another pass to see the Pokemon 2000 movie. He responded well to both environments- at Chuck-E-Cheese he mostly watched, but did play a few games.

Hopefully, we will get out of here and I will get to see you all soon to thank you for everything you have done.

It is absolutely amazing the progress we have been making. Only a month ago we were in a fight for our life and now we are talking about not just leaving the hospital, but walking out of here and having a meaningful and eventually more nearly similar life that we enjoyed before the accident.

Monday afternoon _-_

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

Tonight at 6 pm it will be 32 days since Marshall's accident. Hopefully, we will be able to return to the friendly surroundings of Dooly County tomorrow - going home.

I am sure some folks will see Marshall, those who haven't been as aware of where he was and where he has come from, and decide that the accident wasn't so serious because they will see a boy who outwardly shows few signs of having had major brain surgery. Aside from a scar they'll notice that runs from the middle of his forehead at the scalp toward the back of his head then curving back toward his ear to end down in front of his ear right where the cheek meets, there won't be any noticeable deficiencies in his walk or the way he moves. Soon, his speech will return to normal; as it makes the same leaps and bounds that his physical recovery is making and has made already. They won't notice the section of the frontal lobe that was removed. They won't notice the terrible bruising that occurred throughout his brain. They won't notice the four or five pints of blood that were required to keep him alive. They couldn't be aware of the thirty or more staples that held the surgical incision in place, or the material placed over the fractured part of his skull under his skin that will dissolve in a year from now. They won't know of the constant checks of cranial pressure, temperature, respiration-oxygen contents. They won't be able to tell that there were tubes running into his throat and into his lungs. They won't recognize that there were no less than nine IV's running into his body at one time, trying to keep him here. They won't be aware of the fluid drained from his cranium, the disgusting contents of his throat suctioned away, or the bacteria that attacked his esophagus.

Thank goodness. I'll be happy if no one remembers this event years from now.

There is a phenomenon that psychologists call the 'imposter' scenario in graduate students. Toward the end of their degree, some students think that something must be wrong; that is, if these folks really knew who they were, they would never give them that degree! They believe they are just a plain ol' person from such-and-such and not deserving of what they have rightfully earned. This just so happened to be brought up in a class I took this summer and I can certainly relate.

I am not sure why my boy is still here with us. I am not sure why he is responding so well to this therapy. I am not sure why his therapists continue to be amazed at his progress; so much so they wish they had known then what they know now and had had the foresight to videotape his development for their colleagues. I am sure I couldn't have videoed his progress not knowing what it would have been. I am sure that when that rascal opened his eyes and looked up at me and smiled that be-snaggled grin of his that I didn't want anything else in this whole world. He could have remained in that state and not improved one bit and I would have been deliriously happy. Instead, he is off the charts, so to speak, in his recovery - and I am not sure if there is a great scoreboard in the sky, why we were able to win the game with time running out and save the day. I can't help but think sometime, somewhere, I must have done something right to elicit this great good fortune. I do not dwell on why, because it wasn't up to me in the first place.

I know that people pray for things to happen but I am still overwhelmed by the response to what happened to us. Literally each day goes by and reveals another church or prayer group who has thought enough of us and our situation to pray for my boy and his recovery. There isn't a doubt in my mind that these prayers for his healing, these prayers for the doctors and nurses, have kept my boy here. This has made me realize the importance of family values that are passed down for years; for family traditions of honor and good will for neighbors. Several people prayed for Marshall who did not know who he was, but knew my Daddy and Momma or my grandparents or even great-grandparents and because they were the kind of people they were and made enough of an impact on their friends still here, these people prayed. The question I have to face now is whether I am the kind of person to cause my contemporaries to pray for my great-grandson in a similar situation.

I have noticed a remarkable effect this has had on my friends, especially those who have followed me in parenthood. If there is something I think my friends should learn from all of this, it is rather simple. Love your kids every day and never take their screaming, their mischief, their destruction, their sickness, their whining, their fighting, or their presence for granted. Julie and I have a good relationship as far as divorced parents go, which helps, and I have a multitude of people I can and do call my friends. I have a family that has been not unlike a rock for me to stand upon and years of their teaching and love have held me up during all of this. But without my boys I am less than nothing. For whatever reason, they are still here and that has saved not only their lives, but mine as well. Love your children every day and don't dismiss this love as being constant; let them know it is there and let them feel that it is there.

Thank you all for all that you have done - sorry for the lengthy note. Hopefully, one of my next updates will be the last one!

Sam

Going Home

Tuesday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

I am very happy to announce that this is the last update I get to send from Augusta on Marshall. We have been released to get out from here tomorrow and shall leave by 9 AM at the LATEST.

We will begin our outpatient therapy at a place called Health South in Macon - they will take care of our Occupational and Speech therapy stuff.

I reckon I will send out another update in a couple weeks to let you all know how much that is going.

I will never, ever be able to tell you how much you support has meant to us. This technology can be a headache at times, certainly, but being able to get down here and tell the good news has been very good therapy for me.

See you soon!

On the way home, we stopped in Louisville to meet the paramedics who worked on Marshall while he was lying in a puddle of blood on that street. Their response to him was great to see and it made the point with me that we had a great story to tell and that it made people happy to hear it.

When we got back to Momma's house, the first thing we did was walk around to the back yard to the fort Daddy had built a couple months before the wreck. Marshall was a climber and like to climb up on the roof of the fort. I set him up on the first level and let him climb right back up to his spot on the roof. Needless to say, my Momma was very unhappy with my letting him do that but I wanted to make a point. I did not want him to be fearful at this age of doing the things he used to do. We would be careful – I was standing right under him and would have caught him if he slipped. We would be careful from then on – but we would not be fearful.

Monday morning-

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

It is GREAT to be back home!

Marshall was very glad to be back in friendly areas this past week. He gets around very well - without any help at all physically -and his speech continues to develop rapidly. On Thursday, he went and spent some quality playtime with two buddies of his and mine, Patrick and Brad Braxton. We went Friday to the Open House for Fullington Academy, the school the boys will be attending which is also the alma mater of his parents and our siblings. He was mostly unaffected by all of the attention, as everyone there knew of his accident and wanted to come see him. He also did well with the crowd at Sunday School, where he was met with a round of applause at our assembly. We had a small group of family (for us!) this weekend - he mostly kept to himself and maintains a very reserved stance. He has warmed up and gotten more and more physically aggressive when playing just with me or Lewis, however.

He does show signs of the impulsiveness and the trouble with judgment that was mentioned by his therapists. At times he will respond loudly "NO!" when asked a reasonable simple question. He also popped me upside the head VERY hard when we were getting dressed the other morning after I picked on him a bit. Luckily, I had enough sense about me to remind him that we don't hit people like that, etc. etc., because of the therapist's foretelling.

Lewis begins 4K tomorrow. Wow.

Marshall had his first visit to rehab today - HealthSouth in Macon is the place. Very impressive! They folks there were very polite and inquisitive, as well as professional and thorough in their approach. Today was mostly a get to know each other session. On a beginning test for speech/cognition that involved choosing the correct picture from a group of four, the therapist noted that his successful answers began to diminish around the 9 to 10 year old age level.

Hopefully, we can get that back up! (He is 6)

Physically, we continue rebuilding strength with exercises in the yard. He will enjoy Occupational Therapy as well as Speech three times a week until they get a good idea of his exact needs, then probably drop down to two. I like this place because they have evaluation very often and treat is as we should in education, as part of the process and not simply an indicator of achievement or lack.

Thank you all for your continued prayers and concerns - you got us home and we all appreciate what you have done.

Sam

Angels

About a month and a half or so after we came home, I was sitting on the bed and Marshall came in and stood in front of me.

"Daddy, I want to tell you something," he said.

"Ok, shoot."

"I saw angels".

"When did you see angels? Did you see them on tv or something"?

"No, Daddy, I saw them at the hospital," he replied.

The back of my neck got hot. "At the hospital? Maybe those were just nurses looking at you when you were in the bed?"

"No, they were flying and they were pretty".

"Well good, son". I didn't know what to say.

A week or so after that, Marshall came to me crying. I knew from being told by the doctors that he might have times when he would get overly emotional about things.

"What's wrong, buddy?" I asked.

"I didn't mind, Daddy."

Minding adults was one of the things I tried to teach both of the boys.

"Who was it you didn't mind? Grandmomma?"

"I didn't mind the angels, Daddy".

"What angels? You talking about the ones at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's ok son, I am sure that's alright".

"They wanted me to go with them and I was scared and didn't know where you were and I didn't know where Momma and Lewis was and I didn't do what they told me" he blurted out.

I felt sick and scared all over again. I knew we were close to not coming home at some point. I also knew he wouldn't be making this up. He was crying and I hugged him tight.

"That is ok son that is just fine. It is ok that you didn't mind them". I was trying to think of something to say that would get his mind off of not having done what they wanted.

"You said they were pretty?"

"Yes but one was handsome."

"Handsome? You mean one was a man angel?" I asked.

"Yeah. He talked to me a long time. He was your," he thought for a moment, "he was your great granddaddy that used to live in GG's house". He then pointed over to my grandmother's house. GG was the name the great grandchildren called her. I figured he was talking about his great granddaddy, not mine. I was shocked and amazed and scared to death. Marshall decided for us to go outside and play.

I don't talk about Marshall's angels to him and I don't let others talk to him about them either. I figure that the relationship he has with those angels is between them and I don't want anyone else's interpretation of what happened to be a part of what he remembers. If he wants to know what he told me, he can always ask.

One Year Later

FROM: Lester, Sam

TO: Scruggs, Jeff; Dr. Stitt-Gohdes; Aunt Marianne; jmlewis@msn.com

SUBJECT: Marshall Update

On August 10 of last year, Marshall Lester went home after 32 days at the Children's Medical Center of the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta. Because of the great care that the nurses and doctors there provided, and because of the prayers of thousands in Georgia and throughout the country and world, he has been with us these past two years. Thank you.

Since then, Marshall has learned to ride his bicycle without training wheels. He has been fishing dozens of times with his parents and grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins. He has been along on hunting trips and treks through the woods exploring the nature and wonders of South Georgia country. He has climbed trees and caught frogs and watched bees swarm. Thank you.

Since then, Marshall has seen dozens of movies that he has enjoyed immensely. He has loved watching Cartoon Network and has come to love some of those shows. Interestingly enough, a cartoon named Courage (the cowardly dog) is one of his favorites. Thank you.

He has seen dinosaur bones at Fernbank with his brother and his grandmother. He has seen dinosaur exhibits at the museum in Macon. He has watched Walking with Dinosaurs for what seems like thousands of times. He has dozens of dinosaur figurines, dinosaur t-shirts, and dinosaur books. He can recognize Anklysaurus and Diplodocus. He has cheered the T-Rex in the Jurassic Park movies. Thank you.

He has been to the beach several times. He has swum a hundred thousand miles and ridden that many on his bike. He has been to Athens for Georgia Bulldog games, and Macon for Braves games and hockey games and arena football games. He has been to the Okeefenokee Swamp and to the Gator Farm in St. Augustine – twice! He has been to the Little Grand Canyon and Chehaw Park. He visited the Tennessee Aquarium and slept in a real train car in Chattanooga. He has been to the rodeo and he has enjoyed the fair. Thank you.

He has eaten Krispy Kreme doughnuts in Atlanta with his cousins. He has discovered alligator tail and fried shrimp in Florida. He has had two more birthday cakes and blown out 15 candles. He has grown two inches and gained ten pounds. Thank you.

He has been on field trips with school, and he has created a report and presentation on Abraham Lincoln. He loved PE class and music, but he really loves art. He has several incredible teachers who have been as patient and understanding as they have been lovely. These teachers have dealt with a lot and worked a lot and most of all they have loved Marshall a lot, which is the truest sign of excellence in education. Thank you.

He has seen his brother hit home runs and run for touchdowns. He has seen a new cousin, Riley and has been there as another, John, has grown up. He has played for hours with John – sometimes fussing and fighting and sometimes teaching, but always loving and caring. He has paid attention to Riley and constantly shows him affection. Thank you.

Marshall and his brother Lewis have been inseparable. Although they are usually fighting, they are also fiercely protective of each other. Lewis has helped Marshall remember, and he has helped Marshall read and learn; he has helped Marshall keep up with the family in the mall - he has helped Marshall find his way back. Thank you.

Marshall has worked harder and longer than most children twice his age. He has endured trips to Sylvan when there are much more fun things to do and he went through Summer School with the maturity and attitude of children twice his age. He has endured ignorance and segregation as well as ridicule and taunting. He has weathered changes to his environment, his address, and his life style. Thank you.

He has been able to experience all of these things and hundreds of thousands more, and I have more memories and experiences with him – because of the fine work of doctors and nurses in Augusta and the prayers of friends, family, and strangers.

I can never say Thank You enough.

###

And that's the end of this part of his story. We continue to deal with small problems associated with what happened but for the most part, you'd never know what he and his body went through. The burden that I bear is one that I am happy to have and one that I welcome. My son was given this great gift of life by God a second time and it rests with me to put him in a position to become what is planned for him. The responsibility is one that I consider nearly every day. I do not know what his future is or what he is supposed to become. All that I can do is try to teach him right from wrong based on what I was taught and what the Good Lord has taught us. My greatest hope is that he can find the path he is to walk upon so that he can fulfill this impossible miracle.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite retailer; the intention is to reach as many people as we can with this good news story.

Sam

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