RESTORATION OF HOPE

By Therman Kilcrease

Respair means restoration of hope. In this book, you will read about my life after a devastating car accident and my respair. This autobiography will make you laugh, cry, and most importantly, make you inspired. Beginning from the moment I awaken from having spinal cord surgery, I detail the steep peaks and valleys of my journey, overcoming all adversity and trauma from the healing to process with family and friends. I lose many battles but decisively win the war. Should you read this book? You will see just how deep the rabbit hole went before I eventually emerged.

Respair has the rhythm of a blueprint for anyone to follow for inner peace and perseverance while building energy to surge forward.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798888329238

Book preview

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RESTORATION OF HOPE

Therman Kilcrease

ISBN 979-8-88832-922-1 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88832-923-8 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Therman Kilcrease

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

How Did I Get Here

The Fight Begins

Memory

Time for Rehab

Settling In

New Body, New Habits

Motivation

Bad News

Half Truths

Working Through It

More Bad News

Next Best Thing

Going Home

Major Changes

Confirmation

Burdensome

Police at the Door

Search for My Own Space

Pure Evil

Knowing the Truth

A Father's Dream

Still Hope

Bearing Bad News

First Sight

Still Moving Forward

Exit Now

Peace at Last Peace at Last

Blessing In Disguise

About the Author

How Did I Get Here

Am I going to live or die? God, I hope you heard my prayers. Lying in this hospital bed, in and out of consciousness, I think of all the beautiful moments I have experienced in my life. A nurse walks in. Still in a daze, I touch her arm, then her chest. Suddenly I hear the voice of my sister say, What are you doing? She is sitting next to my bedside, waiting for me to regain consciousness after a spinal cord surgery. I try to turn and look at her, but I can't move. The nurse checks the machine's numbers and scampers out of the room as though she wants to let my sister speak to me. So it begins. Denise, my sister, tells me that the doctor says I won't walk again. I try to speak to tell her, Yes, I will, but nothing comes out due to the tracheotomy procedure. So she brings me a whiteboard and marker, and I write, Yes, I will. Then I write, Why can't I speak? She tells me about the procedure that was done on me. You're on life support, she says, so I roll my eyes to the right as she is pointing at the breathing machine. Then I write on the whiteboard, Bring me water please. You can't have any, she says. You may catch pneumonia. She is referring to what the doctor told her earlier. I am thirsty, I write. She goes over to the sink, wets the end of a paper towel, brings it over, and puts it on my lips. She sits back down after discarding the wet paper towel and begins talking, but the morphine in the bag above my bed slowly makes me lose consciousness again.

Next day I awake to a nurse in my room doing all of their checking as they do. Hey, Mr. TJ, you're awake, she greets me as she looks at me with a smile. I gaze back, thinking, She's pretty. I want to point to the whiteboard to write something, but I can't. My arms are strapped to the bed rails! As I am trying to break free, she politely lets me know that in the night hours, I pulled loose a few IVs they have attached. I think to myself, Yeah, I sure did. Things touching me while I am asleep irks my nerves. She then lets me know that she will detach them if I leave the IVs alone. She states, You need them! I quickly agree. Wouldn't you?

So the following night I almost make a fatal mistake removing the wrong thing: my breathing tube. Due to the severe nerve damage after surgery, I had limited mobility in my fingers, as I still do to this day. It was easy to dislodge it, but I could not put it back afterwards. Oh my God, what am I going to do? After about forty-five seconds of removing it, I suddenly realize, I need this! Frantic to get air, I have to hold the tube to my throat with it flat in between my palms pressed together in a prayer position. I do this for about three or four minutes before the nurse comes in again. I'm not sure if she saw something from her reading at the nurses' station or if our Heavenly Father intervened again for me. She comes in and sees me looking silly holding the tube to my throat, and reattaches it. Phew!

Once again my arms are restrained. Dammit, I can't catch a break, wanting to rest peacefully. This is horrible, thinking I have to get out here quick. Easier said than done!

Progress down to 60 percent oxygen from 90 percent. My son's mother is here visiting me today. I can speak now but only a whisper. I ask her how long it has been since my car accident. She says a week. What! She says, Yes, your accident was really bad. It was on the news and in the newspaper. As I lie there, I ask about our son and how he is doing. Caleb is one at this time. She says he is good. He's with her mom. I say, Can you bring him to me? She says no. They say he is too young because I am still in the ICU. Can you bring a picture? I ask. She says yes! More progress down to 20 percent oxygen.

The next day Shantae brings his picture in a frame and sets it near the window in my room. The nurses give her the good news: I am going to a regular room, out of the ICU. Days go by. Staring at my son's, Caleb's, picture during the day, I pray knowing I have to fight and get better for him. That young man needs me here, and I need him. I know I have to fight. I am paralyzed from the chest down after a C7 spinal cord injury. This means a big life change not only for me but my family as well. I have to wrap my head around this and get out of this hospital and back on my feet. Literally! How is my life going to be after this?

The Fight Begins

Will I be able to take care of myself? Oh no! I will walk normally again with my body properly functioning 100 percent! Almost in a trance, I think about all types of scenarios—whats, whens, hows. I believe there is no obstacle I can't overcome with God on my side.

Over the next few days, I have many visitors. My sister comes daily, and on weekends she brings my two nieces Alexis and Anadejah. Shantae comes about every other day. My friends like Bob Jermain, Demetrius, Gerald, and Nick are so very shocked to see the shape I am in. I keep my spirits high while interacting with them just as if I am seeing them around the neighborhood, but the look on their faces when they saw me say a million words, none of which are good—even though they try to hide it best they can. I cry when I am alone at night, praying for a speedy recovery. Deep down I know there would be nothing speedy about it.

As I am finally breathing on my own, the doctor says, You will be moved from ICU. I ask him, What's next? He replies, We are waiting for a bed to open up at Shepherd Center, a rehabilitation facility for people who have spinal cord injuries. I would find out once I get there if I'm able to walk again. They tell me that the doctors specialized in this specific field. If I have to go to another hospital, this car accident must have been bad. I have no memory of it only, bits and pieces.

Memory

Now very focused on remembering, I begin to question my sister as she comes in for her daily visits. She shows me a photo of my mangled Chevy Monte Carlo. Wow, it looks like a crushed soda can. She then tells me that everyone was surprised anyone survived. Thinking about the photo, I ask, How did they get me out? They had to cut the car open, she says. About this time, Shantae walks in. I look at her and say, Thank God Caleb was not in the car with me. She says, Yeah! with a surprised look because I am finally speaking about the my accident. I ask her if she saw the photos of the car my sister has just showed me. Oh my God yes, she says. Then they begin to question me about what I can remember about the night of October 29, 2013. The night that changed my life!

I tell them about the pieces I can remember. I was headed to the store before it closed, and it was raining. Then they ask me if anyone was with me. Confidently I answer no. They look at each other briefly and look back at me. This is noticeable enough of a sign for me to repeat my answer of no. I ask about my where my things are: phone, jewelry, clothes, and money. The police have them. Why? I ask. My sister say that I was under suspicion of drinking and driving. What? Can one of you go get my things? I ask. I'm not going down there, they say simultaneously. Puzzled by the response, I realize something isn't right. A bed opened up, a nurse comes in and happily says while I'm looking toward the window at my son's picture. I smile as she tells me of the great reputation they have at the facility! When am I leaving?: I ask, excited for the opportunity to get back to my life. Probably this week, she says. I will send in some of our physical therapists later today to see where you are physically so you can have a report