The following is an inspirational story about David McRae and the
Christians
who cared enough about him to go out of their way to help him. Maybe this
will inspire you to help someone else who needs it.
May God bless,
Carl
my website -- http://www.nettally.com/saints/
my blog -- http://www.anniemayhem.com/cgi-bin/wordpress/
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Fighting For David
by Tonya Stoneman
I had coffee the other day . . . with a vegetable. That's what the
director
of a local rehabilitation center called him when he applied to her
facility
for treatment. Few people that I've met have affected so many others.
During
our first encounter, newspaper re****ters, photographers, and a camera crew
gathered in his home along with 20 or so friends and acquaintances. He
worked the room with charm and poise, shaking hands and greeting every
single person. The man of whom I speak is David McRae, a 38-year-old from
Yakima, Wa****ngton, who lives with severe brain damage.
Nearly two decades ago, a motorcycle accident catapulted David 39 feet
through the air. He landed headfirst and skidded another 20 feet before
stopping. A young woman headed to church with her three children was the
first to drive by his limp body that lay straddling the yellow line. She
immediately pulled over and called the police. "I took the gloves off of
his
hands and rubbed them," she says. "I thought, Nobody should die without
their mother. I want him to know someone is here with him."
Within the week, David's mom, Leone Nunley, had to make the critical
decision about whether to perform a highly invasive brain surgery or allow
David to pass away naturally. Though she had no doubt heaven awaited her
son
after death, Leone chose the operation, and a neurosurgeon removed the
anterior five-and-a-half centimeters of brain mass from David's tem****al
lobe-his speech center. "I wouldn't blame you if you discontinued life
sup****t entirely," the doctor told Leone. "His brain has been
significantly
deprived of oxygen."
Despite the surgeon's harsh *****sment, Leone had cause for hope. Her best
Christmas gift that year was given by David-she asked him to wipe his
mouth
with a napkin and, after several tries, he did it! In fact, there were
many
small victories of this nature. But Leone never was able to convince
others
of the progress she saw. The director of the only rehabilitation center in
Yakima rejected David as a candidate for treatment when he failed a
one-minute evaluation by not responding to basic commands. "I wouldn't put
one more dollar into that boy," she said, listing his condition as a
"persistent vegetative state."
But Leone wouldn't buy it. She'd heard him say, "Mama." She'd felt him
squeeze her hand. Something was going on inside of her son's brain. During
the decade that followed, she fought a rigorous battle with America's
health
care system, insurance bureaucrats, and various medical personnel.
The Budget Rehab Center
In the end, she cleaned out her garage and set up a "budget rehab center"
for David with a huge banner proclaiming, "Those who hope in the Lord will
renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run
and
not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint" (Isaiah 40:31). That's
where the story gets interesting.
No less than 30 volunteers from the neighborhood showed up five days a
week
for four years straight to help her with a technique called "patterning."
This method, which was pioneered by Glenn Doman of the Philadelphia
Institute for Human Potential, takes the patient back to early childhood
where he relearns to crawl and then to walk.
Jacqui Wonner organized the volunteer "patterners" into teams of five, and
kept up with all of their busy schedules year after year. Bill and Joy
Campbell showed up every week to move David's arms and legs. Chet Dire
read
the Bible to David once a week for seven years; he and his wife also
worked
on a patterning team. And there was Leone's husband Dale, who married her
when she was a single mom with three little boys. Though David is not his
biological child, Dale has poured out his life for him unreservedly. So
committed were the volunteers that Leone actually received a phone call
one
night from Glen Laney who explained, "I'm going to have to have a kidney
taken out, but I won't miss more than two weeks of patterning."
Their collective tenacity, sweat, and love paid off, and David began to
improve. But David wasn't the only one rewarded by their hard work. "It
was
finally something we could do," says Bill Campbell. "More than patterning,
it was a social hour. We could be there every week, spend time with David,
and get to know each other." Bill tells a story of how he once tried to
bribe David with ice cream. The offer backfired, and David refused to move
a
muscle until Bill brought him chocolate ice cream. After that, every time
they heard the ice cream truck pass, Bill was forced to run down the
street
and bring back treats. "We began to see him give us feedback," Bill says.
"Three to four months into patterning, he started giving us the thumbs
up-before anything else. That tells a lot! He began developing a whole
series of behaviors. He was in there. He just needed us to help him get
out."
The group grew close and their focus intensified as the years passed. "We
gained strength from seeing prayers answered through camaraderie," says
Gene
Kimmel. "A limp dishrag began to move on its own, and we took part in
that.
We shared our lives. David wasn't the only one getting help. I always
looked
forward to patterning."
Jacquie Wonner felt him squeeze her finger once. Cara Anderson remembers
when his smile came back-a smile that he uses a lot today. And Cheryl
Strauss lost nearly every game of UnoT and Connect FourT she played with
him. "David gave us more joy than we could give him," she says. "God
blessed
him with the fruit of the Spirit. It only comes from God."
Of course, the triumphs ambled in one at a time, with much toil and
impedance in the meantime. Leone remembers with tears in her eyes a time
when David wet his bed. "I was so angry and frustrated, I yelled at him. I
made him undress himself and change his own sheets so he could see how
much
work it was. He did it too-all by himself-but I sat there crying as I
watched my grown son struggle for two hours to take off his T-****rt."
Leone is a tiny woman of about 60 years. She could be just about anyone
walking by in a hardware store. But when you talk with her, you begin to
see
a strength and resolve not common to most people. She's simple but solid,
and her humility belies wisdom. Saint Basil once said, "Many a man curses
the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance
to
drive away hunger." Leone does not condemn the events of her life. Nor
does
she question God for allowing them to happen. Instead, she thanks Him for
the astoni****ng miracles that comprise her daily life. And in so doing,
she
helps others to see eternity in their midst.
What It's Worth
Today David lives in his own duplex, feeds himself, bathes himself, and
even
shaves himself. And he's quite communicative-when his caretaker gave him
an
unsatisfactory haircut, David yelled, "You bad! You're fired!" His
favorite
ice cream is chocolate, and his favorite place to eat is in a Corvette.
When
the weather is warm, he wears his sungl***** and goes cruising for girls
with Bill Campbell. When asked what he thinks of his mom, he turns to her
and says with a grin, "I love you, Mom!" As I sit watching David sip his
hot
drink, I understand why his family and community couldn't give up on him.
Nevertheless, I'm convinced those who stopped believing in David did so
because of factors greater than their own callousness. Medicine is still
as
much art as it is science, and doctors are not simply products of a
monolithic heath care system. Yet, along with the commodification of
almost
everything in our society, medicine is becoming market-driven. The cost of
rehabilitating someone like David McRae is monumental. Just how much is
someone like David worth to society?
When Terri Schiavo dominated headlines a year ago, her story struck a deep
chord with people all over the world. Why? Maybe she's a poignant reminder
that each one of us is a simple accident away from her plight. And whether
or not we meet with such a tragic fate, none of us can avoid aging.
In some cultures, older citizens are respected for their wisdom and given
places of honor. Not so in the U.S. Our concept of usefulness has more to
do
with good looks and talent than what we offer altruistically. A series of
ads soliciting egg donors recently ran in college newspapers across the
nation. "A healthy, attractive Yale female who has proven her academic
achievement with an SAT score of 1500 or above can earn a cool $25,000,
provided she is a non-smoker," re****ts Kat Huang of the Yale Daily News.
Tiny Treasures, the agency responsible for the ads, requires official
copies
of SAT scores as a part of the application process.
A society preoccupied by performance has little use for the Terri Schiavos
and David McRaes-neither could earn an SAT score of any kind. And yet,
Terri
inspired people across the globe to fight for the rights of others.
David's
story mobilized an entire community to volunteer their time year after
year.
While unique, these two are not isolated cases. Every day, people like
David
and Terri impact others profoundly by receiving love as much as they give
it.
This is what makes right-to-life issues so controversial. For it is love,
not productivity, that makes us human. The right to life is about
relation****p: the right to love and be loved. In some ways, our society
upholds this principle. But too often, our frantic pursuit of personal
gain
creates a system that rejects the weak. Until we realize that our lack of
regard for the "unuseful" damns our own fate, narcissism will prevail over
love.
The truly extraordinary part of David's story is not so much his
miraculous
recovery as it is the 30 people who went to extreme measures to help him.
Terri Schiavo was not so fortunate. Deeply moved by Terri's ordeal, Leone
Nunley contacted the Schiavos personally, and the struggle brought the two
families together in a special way. But Leone never told David about it.
"He'd be devastated," she says.
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