Sara's Story
Written by Curt Doherty in 1995
During the summer of 1994, Sara and her husband Victor traveled with a mission team, ministering in thirty-three churches across the mid-west. Sara came home to Greenville in August nearly eight months pregnant and with the "mother of all cases" of chicken pox. She was so brave throughout that ordeal. On October 1st, she delivered our first grandson, Isaac David Guarisco.
On October 20th, a blood vessel in Sara's brain burst and bled for a few moments. At the hospital emergency room, the doctor gave us only a little hope for Sara's survival and even less for her recovery. He said that the bleeding was extensive, and there was a strong likelihood of serious damage. We had to give her to the Lord.
The doctor said the first 24 hours were the most critical in her survival. People began to pray. Sara was mentioned for prayer at Christian schools and universities across the country. Over the next several days, people from all over the US called or sent cards, pledging their prayer. We also heard from people in Hawaii, Canada, Korea, and Ireland.
We could see Sara fill with strength and begin to improve. She proved wrong every prediction the doctors and nurses made. They said she would be in intensive care "about two weeks." She was released after four and a half days. She was supposed to spend "at least two weeks in a private room." She spent four days. Then we heard she would need "from three to six months" in the rehabilitation hospital. She was sent home after 27 days. She was now walking with the help of an ankle brace and a cane and could do a good job of helping with the baby although she didn't have use of her right arm. We have spent much more time praising the Lord for His goodness than we have in worry. He has answered more than we could ask or think.
When Sara was first in intensive care, I purchased a small CD player and took it to Sara, so she had Christ-honoring music playing whenever she was awake. The nurses said she needed stimulation to begin communicating. It wasn't long until she could hold up one finger for "yes" and two fingers for "no" even though she seemed somewhat confused at times. While she was in her private room, she started trying to speak but could only groan. In response to a visitor asking her to write down what she wanted us to do for her, she wrote "ASAC ALONE" in large left-handed letters, but we didn't understand what she meant. She had been reversing the order of letters and repeating letters, and I thought she was saying "Sara alone." She was a little frustrated that we couldn't understand her, and then she wrote "SARA AWAY" in the same large letters. We decided that she was saying "Isaac alone—Sara away." That made perfect sense because she hadn't seen Isaac since her injury. It was the intense desire of her heart that she see her baby.
The day after she was transferred to the rehab hospital, she was able to say "Isaac" for the speech pathologist, who was very pleased. Sara was also able to identify an object the therapist was holding and say "fork." Both words were understandable, but neither was enunciated clearly. The therapist hoped Sara would be saying up to two words at a time within the next two weeks. She explained that Sara couldn't speak because of the damage done to the left side of her brain where the speech center is located. She suggested that we work with her in trying to "sing-song" words, as the music center is on the right side of the brain and was unaffected. When the therapist left, I asked Sara if she would like to try to sing along with a CD, and she held up one finger. I got out one of Sara's favorite CDs—"May the Lord Find Us Faithful" by Mac and Beth Lynch from the Wilds Christian Camp where Sara had worked before her marriage. I gave her the liner notes with the words and put on "He Lifted Me," which is an old time hymn by Charles Gabriel and one of my favorites. She tried to sing but could only groan in a monotone.
In loving kindness Jesus came,
My soul in mercy to reclaim,
And from the depths of sin and shame,
Through grace He lifted me.
He called me long before I heard,
Before my sinful heart was stirred,
But when I took Him at His word,
Forgiven, He lifted me.
His brow was pierced with many a thorn,
His hands by cruel nails were torn,
When from my guilt and grief, forlorn,
In love He lifted me.
Now on a higher plane I dwell,
And with my soul I know 'tis well;
Yet how or why I cannot tell,
He should have lifted me.
Refrain:
From sinking sand He lifted me,
With tender hand He lifted me,
From shades of night to plains of light,
Oh, praise His name, He lifted me!
It was about this time when Victor brought Isaac into Sara's room for the first time. She unceremoniously wiped the CD case and liner notes onto the floor and accepted her baby boy into her arms. Sara peered into Isaac's face with as intense a love as you could imagine. We sat there rejoicing in seeing them together again and trying to imagine how Sara felt. It was very hard not to cry for the joy we saw in her.
Bev said, "Sara, show Victor how you can say 'Isaac.'" Without taking her eyes off her baby, she said clearly "Isaac." It was really hard now to keep from having a "Pentecostal running and shouting fit." Victor asked her to say "David." I knew that "David" required more than the simple exhaled words she had been saying, but very clearly she said "David." We were surprised to hear her speak so quickly and clearly, and Bev and I were both crying by now and thanking the Lord.
Victor then said with a laugh, "We'll wait until tomorrow to get you to say 'Guarisco'!" We all knew she couldn't say anything that complicated. However, Sara said "Guarisco" as clarly as she had ever said it and then started repeating "Isaac David Guarisco" over and over, looking at the son she hadn't seen for nine days. Those words were so wonderful to hear coming from her lips, especially when we had been told that speech was often one of the last things to return.
Later when Victor prepared to take Isaac home, he said to Sara, "Tell Issac you love him." Sara said, "I love you." "Tell him you'll come home soon," Victor said. "I'll come home soon." The words seemed to flow effortlessly.
After Victor and Isaac left, Sara motioned Bev and me over to her wheelchair, took my hand, looked from me to Bev and said, "I just want you to know how much I miss you." It was like the Lord had flipped a switch and she started speaking. "Tomorrow, I want to go to the playground," she said. When we looked at her trying to figure out what she meant, she smiled and said, "I just made that up." She was practicing! We all laughed and hugged and cried and thanked the Lord for His goodness.
While Sara was in the rehab hospital, she had many visitors, including many of her friends from Bob Jones University. Most of them were very encouraging, but one young lady came in with some obvious needs of her own. Her visit started normally, but soon she broke into tears and cried, "Oh Sara, I don't see how you can do this!" She repeated similar phrases over and over with her face buried in her hands and on the verge of sobbing.
As Sara's dad, my first reaction was to escort her friend out of the room and give her my lecture about being part of the solution and not part of the problem. I also thought about just kicking her out of the door but that thought soon passed. Sara reached out to this girl with her strong hand and got her attention. She said simply, "This is what the Lord has for me to do right now." The girl nodded and filled with strength, and the rest of her visit grew to be more like other visits. I believe she learned a genuine lesson in submission to the Lord that day, as I know I did. Many times I have used this in counseling others, and the Lord has brought these sweet and sincere words back to my mind often when I need to remember "This is what the Lord has for me to do right now."
We have been so encouraged by her attitude and bravery. She is very eager to give the glory to her Savior Jesus Christ. Our prayer is that you have a personal relationship with the Living God so that you can experience His help in time of trouble.