Ten Years & Counting . . .

It’s hard to comprehend that exactly a decade ago, Christine nearly died of a brain hemorrhage. 

I’ve relived the details of that fateful night . . . the night a blizzard descended upon our hometown of Boone, North Carolina—and an altogether different storm began to unfold in the Dagher home.  And life, as we knew it, completely changed. 

That life-altering evening, Christine was a senior in high school, Jessica was a sophomore, and Stephen was a 5th grader.  Today, Christine is nearly 28 and working full-time at Samaritan’s Purse, Jessica is 25, newly married and living in Virginia, and Stephen is 21 and a college junior at Taylor University. 

To this day, I flinch at the sound of a siren. 

I remember the words of my husband as he hopped into the ambulance taking Christine to Baptist Hospital from Watauga Medical Center that night, as snow swirled madly around us.  “Be prepared,” he had warned, without needing to add the words, “She might not make it.” 

I recall the phone call with my sister-in-law in Beirut, Lebanon, as she tried to understand the severity of the situation.  I remember leaving Jessica and Stephen behind at our house, never imagining that it would be weeks before I set foot in our home again.  I still think back on the drive down to the hospital with Scott and Tana Andrews, watching the snow fall outside the window, listening to Tana call our family and friends, and having family scenes run through my mind—but with an absent Christine.  For those who have lost a child, I can say I barely had that cup to my lips, yet it was enough to know that it is a feeling unlike any other.  My heart goes out to those who have tasted that cup in full.   

I vividly recall the sights and sounds of the PICU at Brenner’s Children’s Hospital/Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center.  I remember feeling “carried” by family and friends who sat with us, walked alongside us, kept us fed, gave us places to sleep, took care of details at home, and truly served as the hands and feet of Christ.  I can still see Christine unconscious in PICU, entwined in all sorts of tubes and wires and surrounded by beeping monitors.  I remember stroking her cheek for the first time through the tangled tubes.  I still feel the first squeeze she gave my hand and remember the first opening of her eyes—and the relief at the moment she recognized our faces.  I relive the joy of her first step as she learned to walk again, and the smile that graced my face as she recovered her speech and even began calling me on the phone if I wasn’t in her hospital room right when she awakened in the morning. 

I recall how she pushed through all of the agonizing PT, OT, and Speech Therapy she had at the Sticht Center—and continued to do so for months once she returned home.  I remember her working up to being able to walk across the stage to receive her diploma at her high school graduation.  I think back on all her years of work for her Associates Degree, interrupted by multiple surgeries, countless appointments, and ongoing recovery challenges.

To be honest, there were times in those first few years post-hemorrhage that seemed daunting and sdiscouraging.  Yet, God graced Christine with a tenacious will.  She did not throw in the towel.  The young woman who had to relearn how to walk now literally runs miles around me.  She has a wonderful full-time job at Samaritan’s Purse and is actively involved in the leadership of our church’s Young Adult group.  To see her today, you would never know that she endured such a traumatic event.  Her survival and recovery have been nothing short of miraculous.

I spoke to one of Christine’s physicians the other day.  She shared how the neurosurgeon taking care of Christine had called her after Christine’s initial emergency surgery to relieve the pressure in her brain.   He claimed that it was the worst hemorrhage he’d seen in someone her age.  “She’s still on this side of the line with us, but we’ve done all we can do.  It’s out of our hands now.” 

Mercifully, God took over and brought her back to us.  And Christine has learned—and continues to learn—much from this journey.  Actually, we all have.  Christine has a remarkable ability to empathize with people and discern when someone needs a word of encouragement. And we have learned much about our Heavenly Father.  When you literally find yourself clinging to Him in life’s storms, you notice things about Him up close that you’ve never seen before.

We wanted to take time on this sobering anniversary to thank our Lord for the merciful gift of Christine’s life and to thank you all for the many prayers and encouraging messages you have shared with us over the years.  In addition, Christine wanted to share the following message: 

2 Corinthians 12:9- “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Tonight marks ten years since my brain hemorrhage.  God’s grace has been a major theme throughout the last ten years of my life—and I am so grateful for it.  I wouldn’t be where I am today without His intervention in my life.  God brought me from near death to life, and He continues to walk with me, teach me, strengthen me, and provide for me.  I am reminded of the people God has used in my life to help me in my journey—from that night ten years ago, throughout my recovery, and to today.  I am so thankful for my family, friends, the church, doctors, physical therapists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, my classmates, coworkers, and so many people I couldn’t name them all.  THANK YOU.  God has used you to impact my life and I am so grateful. 

I would never wish a traumatic brain injury on anyone—it is a long and difficult journey—but I would never trade my experience for anything.  While it involved surgeries and countless appointments, tears, anger and frustration, God has been faithful.  He walked with me and has provided countless blessings for me along the way.  Today I celebrate where God took me from and where He has led me to. 

I can relate to the lyrics of the song, “Scars,” by the group I Am They:

“I’m thankful for the scars, cause without them I wouldn’t know Your heart.  And I know they’ll always tell of who You are.  So forever I am thankful for the scars.”