Another Day I Was Saved

Another Day I Was Saved

Jeff Stiles

Copyright © 2023 by Jeff Stiles

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

My Journal: Two Years before My 2019 Brain Surgery

Nearly forty years ago, a high school child endured a memory loss that caused his life to turn 180 degrees in the opposite direction.

A fourteen-ton dump truck full of gravel had illegally run through a red light and smashed into a small car, leaving a boy with a severely injured skull and a dying body.

November 16 is the anniversary of the afternoon I was prepared to travel with football teammates to Tennessee, for the national championship game for private high schools.

Instead, that voyage was thwarted (for me, at least) when a dump truck loaded with a dozen tons of gravel sped through a red light and pushed my 1978 Datsun B-210 into a ditch.

A day, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon, when it took quite a number of emergency personnel ninety minutes, using what they used to call the jaws of life, to free my body from my crushed vehicle.

A day, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon, when paramedics told my mother and father that I’d no longer be alive by the time the ambulance had rushed my body to Wake Medical Center in Raleigh, North Carolina. (In fact, the paramedics that day ignored protocol to instead allow my weeping mother to ride along in the ambulance—so she could hold her son’s hands as he breathed his final breaths.)

A day, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon, when my parents were told that their eldest son had a severely fractured skull in his left forehead and that he certainly would not live through that night.

Or even if so (if he eventually awakened), he’d never be able to think or talk or walk ever again.

A day, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon, when I began spending the next thirteen days of my life in a coma.

Yet amazingly—after nearly two weeks in a total coma—I suddenly became aware of what had happened and found the left side of my body entirely paralyzed.

A day, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon, that altered my entire life. Well, not actually forever, but certainly for the remainder of my life here on earth.

A day, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon, when an incident—actually, a car accident—resulted in several decades of a diagnosis of dementia.

A day, thirty-nine years later, when I could be drinking liquor into a mindless stupor, attempting to forget all the limitations that still encumber my everyday life.

A day, thirty-nine years later, when I could very well be pitying myself, realizing the fact that I’ll probably never again have the memory or concentration abilities to work a regular job.

To maybe once again be in another serious vehicle accident—with fear of further damaging my skull.

To never again climb a tall ladder, for fear of having a dizzy spell that would cause another serious brain injury.

To never again be trusted to totally manage my own medications.

Or to keep track of all my many scheduled medical appointments.

Or to not be able to swim or bathe alone.

Instead, I’m doing my best to focus on the positives.

Positives like the fact I did in fact awaken from my coma after thirteen days.

That I was eventually able to learn how to write and walk again.

That I did actually graduate from high school…and on time in 1984.

That I was able to earn several college degrees.

That I’ve been able to work a number of fulfilling careers—as a journalist, as a project manager, as an insurance agent, as the administrator of a nursing home.

That God enabled me to overcome the expectations of doctors.

That I have friends and church members from all over the nation who probably continue to pray for me on a daily basis.

For therapists and doctors and theologians and personal friends who encourage me regularly to keep in mind the many positives left in my earthly life.

Today, thirty-nine years ago that afternoon.

My Journal: Two Years before My 2019 Brain Surgery

February 27, 2017

Just to let everyone know: for those who don’t remember, last autumn I was diagnosed with early dementia, a result of the traumatic brain injury I suffered in a car wreck my senior year of high school.

Troubles with my memory and concentration have made me unable to maintain a salaried job for the past several years, which is quite frustrating since, for the past thirty years, I’ve regularly held jobs as a manager, a supervisor, a director, and an editor.

Thus far, my faculties have remained constant, and many people I meet don’t even realize the many emotional and physical challenges I’ve been facing.

I’m on about a dozen meds, to help with my memory and concentration issues per day, along with suffering many physical challenges such as dizziness, balance, vertigo, and some back issues.

Please don’t feel sorry for me. The Lord protected me after the wreck, during my amazing recovery, and for the past several decades, during which I’ve experienced more exciting and rewarding experiences than many enjoy during an entire lifetime.

And some of my dearest remaining memories are about my final year of high school at Wake Christian Academy, with many classmates I came to love and who supported me during the difficult year in which we all bonded.

I look forward to whatever limited future I may have, as I know for a fact that God is still with me.

I also look forward to seeing many of y’all again later this year. So far, I plan to keep my wonderful house here in Iowa (though I so wish I could simply move it back east to Virginia)—at least for as long as I’m somewhat able to maintain my senses and capabilities (hopefully for a long time yet).

My parents are overseeing the construction of my new Virginia house, which currently is being built on the family homestead on which I grew up.

The house there will be small, fairly simple, and wheelchair-accessible. (The last time I was confined to a wheelchair was my senior year in high school back in Raleigh. Remember?)

Over the next few years, I’ll most likely be (at least mentally) reverting back to my younger years.

Please bear with me during my unsure future.

The mind is one of my most prized possessions, and I think I’d rather be facing a diagnosis of cancer or even a brain tumor rather than the loss of parts of my mind and memories. Hopefully, this will be a long road traveled, since there are many things on my bucket list I’d love to still enjoy.

I wrote two books last year and have several others in the oven that I hope to finish over the next two years.

Anyway, this message is much longer than I imagined it would be, though I suppose it’s good for me to record my feelings as soon as I can.

I love you all and look forward to visiting with you again soon.

June 16, 2017

I was very thankful to have had three lucid days last week, though those days often lead me to believe all’s well (which leads to depression and stress when that high wears off).

Sometimes I wish I didn’t even have the highs because I so loathe the lows.

I use my long weekend hours at work (a totally legitimate reason) as my excuse to not make it to church on Sundays, while secretly being thankful that I don’t embarrass myself by once again becoming overemotional in front of that group.

I shy away from community organizations I used to be a leader of, for fear that I’ll once again have an absence seizure and cause myself to look like the demented fool I’m becoming.

I write books and do stand-up comedy to disguise my newfound inabilities, often wondering if I’m seen by others as a desperate man seeking only self-assurance.

Realizing suddenly that I’m a desperate man seeking only self-assurance.

Holding against my wife (actually, my first and also the second one) the fact that she’s in denial of my diagnosis, as she knows full well the fact that I stay overly busy to distract myself from the fact that my flesh is overly lazy.

Frustrated by the fact that I’m no longer able to perform sales, marketing, HR, editorial, and administrative tasks that in the past were so simple and resulted in a nice-sized salary. Humbled now by the fact I have difficulty even completing a simple task at a part-time job that pays less than I earned in college three decades ago, and to have to rely on Medicaid to see six doctors who collectively prescribe thirteen drugs to tell me what I probably already know.

Suffering from the side effects of the prescription drugs I’ve been given to counteract the side effects of the pills I’m taking to fight the side effects of the prescription drugs that I’m already taking to counteract my dementia…

O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? (Rom. 7:24)

The resounding good news of the above verse, of course, is found in the following chapter of Romans, where we read,

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

For now, I’m just floating. Looking forward to that blessed hope, while hoping desperately that blessed hope comes before I lose the entirety of my mind.

Wondering if the spiritual brothers and sisters at my church question the depth of my spirituality, because I’m only infrequently able to attend services due to my weekend work hours.

Being confident in this very thing, that the work the God has begun in me will be completed/performed until the day of Jesus Christ. (Phil. 1:6)

Wondering if my work on earth has already been completed, or if now I can only relate better to those with diagnosis like my own.

Sorry for the ramblings. I’m feeling weird and having a headache (which I rarely have?) this afternoon.

July 8, 2017

As I get ready to retire for the night, there are a few random thoughts that’ve been bouncing around in my head all day yesterday (a Saturday).

Sorry if I sound like I’m rambling, as I’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

I’ve been having mostly lucid days the past couple of weeks; but I’m starting to wonder if I’m just getting used to the odd, dizzying, floating, discouraging, emotional, etc., feelings.

Which is okay, in a way, because for the last couple of weeks, I’ve at least been able to complete a few minor projects around my house while still making some effort toward getting more writing projects completed.

I’ve also been able to make some limited progress on writing my next three books.

July 10, 2017

I have several new books occupying my extra time these days.

Tales from the Taverns is mostly dependent on submissions (quite a few at first, but now very slow), a memoir (which people have been asking me to write for a long time, given my various life experiences), and a new book about living with dementia that my mom’s been encouraging me to write for a few months now.

I also have an article I wrote