By Jacob Bembry
When I finally came to myself again, I saw my father along with my friends, Benjie and Denise Dyal, and their daughter Cali in my hospital room. Soon, I was out again. I had regained my memory but there is a part of it that I will never get back again.
I do not remember much of what happened on December 8, 2011. My boss and my friend, Emerald Greene, said that I had been texting her some questions I had about a story I had proofed for someone in Monticello. All of a sudden, the texting stopped. She wondered what had become of me. She said that Kristin Finney, one of my reporters, began texting her that they were on the phone with 911 for me and that I was blue. Dana Williams, a sales associate, had begun mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and Lynette Norris, another reporter, and Dee Hall, a graphic artist, had begun chest compressions. Kristin gave them the instructions from the dispatcher. I remember none of this – I only share what has been shared with me.
In Monticello, apparently shaken by the news about me, Emerald started to head to Madison before she realized that she was 40 minutes away from me. She said that Russell Williams, one of our freelance photographers, had gone to the office and told her he had never seen anyone so blue in his life as I appeared to him.
EMS arrived on the scene. I was taken to Tallahassee Memorial Hospital, where the prognosis didn’t look good. Doctors did not give me much hope but they started a process to bring my body temperature into a hypothermic state. This helps preserve brain function and is called Arctic Sun. Apparently, Arctic Sun worked on me.
I think of the women who helped me at the office, the EMTs who helped and the doctors and nurses and I am overwhelmed by it. More than that, I am overwhelmed by the fact that God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost were in the background, directing each hand and each action and keeping me safe and protected.
Over the next few days and nights, a parade of pastors and a parade of Christian lay people walked through the doors of my hospital room. They were led by the steps of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Gently, each of them whisphered prayers of hope for me. Gently, they breathed prayers of hope for my family who breathed their own prayers for me. Even friends who I have not met in person also prayed for me. One friend named Pam had plenty of photos that she had taken of places, people and things and each looked a prayer and resounded in my heart like a prayer.
God has promised never to leave us alone or forsaken. He has delivered on his promise to me time and time again and this year just in time for Christmas.