God’s Hand in My Brain Injury and Healing
My journey began on a cold November night in 2024 on Cape Cod. My wife, Sue, and I were preparing for a long holiday road trip to Michigan and Utah to see family and welcome a new grandson. After dinner with friends, I hit a curb while pulling into a gas station, flattening our tire. Stranded and without AAA support, a young man appeared out of the darkness—our first angel. He worked for over 30 minutes to replace the tire, refused payment, and simply said, “God will reward me. Just pay it forward.”
The next morning, while repacking the car, I tripped over a large cooler and hit my head hard on the driveway. I felt fine—no symptoms—and we drove 750 miles to Detroit. Over the next seven weeks, we visited family in Michigan and then traveled to Utah with no indication that anything was wrong.
On January 2nd, 2024, I noticed a limp in my right leg. A doctor visit revealed no signs of concussion, and we planned an MRI for later that month. But two more angels—both named Grace—intervened. One, a visiting physician assistant, and the other, a nurse, strongly urged me to go to the ER immediately.
On January 3rd, I drove to the Concord ER, expecting reassurance. Instead, a CT scan showed that the left side of my brain was filled with blood. I was admitted and had emergency surgery the next morning—January 4th, the very day I was scheduled to fly to Detroit. That flight could have cost me my life.
The first surgery was critical, but not the end. In late February, my neurologist informed us that a more invasive craniotomy was needed to remove the blood—a dark, thick “motor oil” like substance clogging my brain. It was risky and painful, but delaying could be fatal. We scheduled the procedure for March 5th at Elliott Hospital in Manchester, New Hampshire.
In the weeks leading up to surgery, we were lifted up by the prayers of hundreds. Each morning, Sue, our daughter Dena, and I prayed together. At a pre-op appointment, my local physician even promised to pray for me himself—something I’ll never forget.
The night before surgery, God gave me peace in the form of a vision. Lying awake, eyes closed but fully conscious, I saw a high-definition map slowly pan across the screen of my mind, revealing bold words: Queen City. We didn’t know what it meant until Dena reminded us that Manchester (the site of my surgery) is nicknamed “Queen City.” That reassurance gave me calm and clarity heading into surgery.
On March 5th, I checked into the hospital at 7 a.m. for what was expected to be a 60- to 90-minute procedure. It lasted just 30 minutes. Despite the severity of the condition, I experienced no pain—after the surgery only Tylenol was administered. Not once did my pain score rise above zero, except briefly due to an old rib injury. A small dose of oxycodone resolved it quickly.
In an unusual turn, I was discharged directly from the ICU. My room felt like a “Presidential Suite,” and my recovery became the talk of the floor. Nurses and staff visited to hear my story. I shared my testimony, including how God once healed me of debilitating migraines in my twenties. Two nurses wept as they listened, revealing they suffered from migraines themselves and wanted to read my book God Revealed.
Looking back, I see a string of divine interventions that carried me through:
A kind stranger who changed our tire and reminded us to “pay it forward.”
Two women named Grace who insisted on a life-saving scan.
A canceled airline trip that could have ended my life.
The peace of having my estate in order the night before surgery.
A doctor’s unexpected promise to pray for me.
A vision of Queen City that calmed my anxious heart.
The miracle of zero pain and a speedy recovery.
A chance to minister to ICU staff from my hospital bed.
Every step was guided. Every prayer answered. And my life has been forever changed—not just physically, but spiritually. I have a renewed devotion to God, family, and the calling placed on my life. Praise the Lord for His perfect timing, protection, and grace.