Bring Back Summertime - Jeanne Starr Gater

Bring Back Summertime (eBook)

&quote;A true story of triumph over tragedy!&quote;

Jeanne Starr Gater (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
288 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-0131-3 (ISBN)

Bring Back Summertime is a faith-based story depicting one woman's unwavering struggle against dire odds to restore the life of her 46-year old husband who was left severely maimed and comatose after his car was crushed beyond recognition by a huge Mack truck. As Dr. 'J's entire family prayerfully cling to hopes for a miracle, doctors are amazed and astounded that life saving miracles are granted for the former U.S. Airman, Teacher, and Senior Systems Computer Engineer for the Chrysler Corporation. After being comatose for over three months, Dr. 'J' reveals to his speech therapist and his wife that the angels gave him a miracle cloth. He related that doctors said he would not wake up, but when he rubbed the miracle cloth on his face like the angels from down on the Bayou told him ... he 'woke up!' From the swift action of the response team at the scene of the accident, dedicated medical doctors, and a family who believed in divine intervention, Bring Back Summertime portrays a compassionate story of faith and fortitude. Prepare to be rejuvenated and enlightened as you renew your faith in the power of God and unconditional love through the heartfelt and inspirational Bring Back Summertime story of triumph over tragedy.

When Jeanne Starr Gater picks up the phone one morning, she receives the shock of her life. Her strong, robust, athletic husband, Dr. Julius Gater, is in the hospital! -- comatose, suffering from closed head injury, broken bones ... Dr. "e;J"e; IS DYING!!A horrendous car accident that morning has left her husband unconscious, though still alive and hanging on for dear life! ..And it had been a good life -- full of sunshine! Why this! .. Dear GOD! ... Why this?!She knows she must get to him -- and fast! "e;they had come through too much together. If she gets to the hospital in time, they will come through this awful thing too. But she needs all of her resources now. In her inner spirit, she petitions her God for mercy and compassion and strength to bring Dr. 'J"e; back from the throes of death. Next, over time, she contacts her family and friends for their positive thoughts and prayers. She begins her long hard journey to "e;BRING BACK SUMMERTIME."e;"e;Thus begins the remarkable true story of one woman's courage and faith in the face of the bitterest of odds, and one man's miraculous recovery despite doctor's dire predictions. Family and friends, new and old, gather round to offer support, faith and love, as the Gater's begin their trek back to a normal life. "e;They encounter incredible (and numerous) obstacles from resistant medical personnel and uncooperative rehabilitation staff, to other family misfortunes. "e;Their very survival as a family depends on their determination to hold fast to their hopes and their faith. BRING BACK SUMMERTIME is a soul searching story of a family's struggle for the restoration of physical strength, grace and human dignity. A story that portrays the power and strength of human bonding, prayer and the belief in the power of God to sustain and revive. "e;This family somehow does not allow itself to be thrown even by this devastating accident. "e;They continue their noteworthy accomplishments, as they struggle to deal with the prolonged recovery of Dr. "e;J"e;. Their story is truly an inspiration to all, and a compelling testament to the power of belief and life saving miracles.

I decided to give myself a break. Worry only generates more worry. Positive action in the right direction, however, can generate powerful results. The task at hand was to let Gater know that he was loved, would get better, and in just a matter of time, this unexpected part of his life would be over; and momentarily we would move forward and structure our life and our goals around whatever God had in store for us. My expectation was that the best was yet to come. I had gathered enough objective armor to help sustain me whenever I found myself in the realm of negative warnings and negative conditions surrounding Gater’s care. I kept forefront in my mind that though damage to the brain can result from stroke, head injury, or disease, even though brain cells do not grow back, some recovery of function is possible because other brain cells may take over the work of those lost. Gater was way ahead. He had no spinal cord damage, no occipital lobe damage, just a small stroke deep in the hypothalamus area. What I learned about the hypothalamus area helped me a great deal in relating later to many of Gater’s unexpected personality changes–-his physical and verbal outbursts–-and the home care staff that would later become a part of his continued treatment program. However, I felt still that my greatest asset was being reconditioned to the fact that man is a total mystery machine capable of turning the laws of average around at a moment’s notice. With that, I felt it didn’t matter as much how Gater was treated. What mattered more was his attitude towards his treatment program and fostering an atmosphere of willpower within him and around him, that Gater, Julius, “Dr. J” can and will move forwards toward full recovery!

My next small victory came about two days later, when I walked into the rehab center and was greeted with the news, “He moved his fingers! We saw him move his fingers,” said one nurse and then another, and another excitedly. Why, it was just less than a week ago, folks, that you all were so sure that he never would use that left arm and hand again. While I tried to express my joy, I couldn’t help but gloat in the back of my mind, “I could have told you so, but remember, you wouldn’t listen. You said I did not understand the case objectively enough; I was too religious.” In the meantime, it was only a small victory. I just thought to myself, thank you, Father, but they haven’t seen nothing yet, have they?

Problems were developing, however. I became concerned that the more I would try to get Gater to eat, the less success I was having. I was having even less success than I had nearly a month earlier at Beaumont Hospital. Every night I went home, and I prayed to God to make it easier for Julius to swallow, because I wanted so desperately to get that tube out of his body and his nose. I was also concerned about him developing pneumonia again. I could not watch him night and day, and until his coughing reflex got stronger, he could not blow his nose adequately.

I continued some of my personal care with Gater, even though his primary nurse, Nancy, was doing a very good job with him. It was good to see him dressed in his new jogging outfits I had bought him and his new high–topped gym shoes. No hospital gowns all day anymore now. Mimi and I posted all of his cards and pictures around his orange room, “Dr. J” Jr. at the foot of his bed again, and transferred his plants to the badly scratched brown nightstand beside his bed. Well, the room didn’t look so bad after all.

One day while cleaning Gater’s nose, I pulled the tube that led to his stomach partially out a little as his nose seemed to be more clogged than usual. As I caught the first strand of debris with my tissues, I was flabbergasted and revulsed to see almost three to four inches of accumulated mucous continue to come out of his nose. Jesus, how could he breathe with this stuff in his nose and the tube too. From then on, everyday, I would try to get him to blow his nose some after that, but with little luck. He was not strong enough to blow his nose. So, again I had to pester the nursing staff with what I thought they should be doing for him. Nancy was a pretty Jewish nurse in her early thirties with dark brown hair that was beautifully cut. She exclaimed, “But he really is doing quite well, Mrs. Gater, aren’t you Julius?” I felt that Nancy had genuine concern for Gater’s progress. She was so excited that he was helping her more with his daily living activities–that he could pull up on the t–bar and help her and the other nurse get him out of bed. Strange, I thought, it seems I remember telling them before that he was capable of doing those things. I smiled as I listened to her tell me how he actually could brush his own teeth now and assisted quite a bit when she’s getting him dressed. Just like a baby, moving and leaning the right way whenever he could. In the week or two that followed, I arrived unannounced in the morning rather than at my usual time, and the nursing staff scurried to let me know how well Gater was doing. “And Mrs. Gaiter, why you’re just in time to see him go to physical therapy.” As I sat across the physical therapy room and watched them put Julius on the tilt table, I was deeply moved. I could see him looking at me more and more as if he knew his wife was over there--she’s here with me today, so I can be strong. As the next couple of weeks went by, the staff became more impressed with Gaiter’s ability to begin taking some weight on his feet when lowered to the floor on the tilt table and with his being able to take some weight when they got him out of bed in the morning, too. Nancy said one day, “Oh, he’s doing so well. We think he’s moving into at least a level 5 now.”

Despite the physical progress that was taking place, and despite the excitement they could see with more movement with Gaiter’s left leg, I was still what I deemed overly concerned with Gaiter’s inability to eat. I kept thinking that the new tube they had in his nose was so much larger than the one he had at Beaumont, Gaiter had gotten to the point now where he could not practically swallow at all. They had mentioned a couple of times of removing the tube from his nose and putting it directly into his stomach. I had concluded that morning on my way to the rehab center, that that was probably the best alternative. Only a small cut would be needed for that. But still, it seemed so much like back–tracking. The tube should have come out by now, and he should have been ready to eat at least pureed foods. I realized that intuitively my concern was there for a reason. I talked to Mother on the phone the night before and she had said, “Honey, you know patients that I work with who are pretty well and who can talk can’t stand that tube feeding. It irritates their throat and it’s hard for them to swallow. Just think, Julius has had that thing in his throat for four months now, and since he can’t talk, he can’t tell you how much it may be hurting him.” Well, I thought, I guess I’m going to have to convince them that that it’s time for the tube to come out and go into his stomach. To my surprise, when I arrived at the rehab center that day, Nancy and Dr. Hazarded were prepared to convince me that the tube should be inserted in Gaiter’s stomach directly. They tried to explain to me how simple the procedure would be but seemed a little stunned that I was already in agreement. For obvious reasons, Gaiter could not swallow. They explained they had a throat specialist look in on him earlier, and that he had stated that Gaiter’s swallowing reflex had gotten so weak that it was a wonder he hadn’t choked. I was duly prepared to sign all the paperwork they had gotten together for Gater to he moved to Providence Hospital a couple of blocks down the street. The procedure was to take one day. Two days later, I arrived at the rehab center early enough to ride with Gater in the ambulance over to Providence, but they had already left. Seems they didn’t think I was going to get there on time, and the doctor wanted to get him prepared for the minor surgery. After another session of unnecessary paperwork, stating the use of a local anesthesia, they were ready to proceed. They had completely wasted my time the day before by asking me to sign blank forms that did not explicitly state the type of anesthesia to be used. The doctors knew of my concern about general anesthesia because of Gater’s head injury, and I was not prepared, nor willing, to take the risk even if they were.

Now that I looked at my greater Gater, all dressed in green on the stretcher, I could tell he did not know what the devil was going on. But he was relatively calm compared to the day he was first transferred to the Southland Rehab Center. I felt reassured from that that he must have made some good progress cognitively even in the last few weeks because his eyes seemed to say to me: “Jeannie, I understand that everything is going to be all right. I do understand what they are about to do.” He looked so much like a little boy with that green surgical cap on his head. I held his hand and told him. “Hon, it’s just going to be just a small operation. We’re going to take this awful tube out of your nose and put it directly into your stomach. You’ll see. You’ll feel much better after that, and in no time you’re going to be able to eat on your own.” As they wheeled Gater away, I felt a little edgy. I thought, God, I fought against all of those other major operations so his life could he spared, and now, to give in to something like this. But, it’s such a minor operation, so why am I worried.”

Providence Hospital had a crisp, clean, neat, professional look about it. I got some directions to help me...

Erscheint lt. Verlag	30.5.2023
Sprache	englisch
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
Themenwelt	Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Gesundheit / Leben / Psychologie ► Esoterik / Spiritualität
ISBN-13	979-8-3509-0131-3 / 9798350901313

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