My Testimony

Bethel Deaconess Hospital had become the backdrop for a series of tumultuous events during those harrowing final days of January 1975. My friend Bill, a vibrant spirit with a passion for speed, had tragically lost his life when his treasured Corvette was violently t-boned at the entrance of the turn-around—a chilling reminder of the reckless abandon with which we approached our teenage years. Dragging Main, a cherished ritual among Newton’s youthful and naïve populace, epitomized our coming-of-age exploits, transforming the streets into a stage for reckless adventure. Yet, I remained blissfully unaware of Bill’s fate, learning of his unimaginable loss only years later—a tale waiting to unfold in its own right. At that moment, however, now the focus was on the chaos surrounding me as I was urgently whisked to the very emergency room where Bill had taken his last breaths…

I would like to begin my testimony by recounting the details from the paramedic’s report, shedding light on what they discovered upon their arrival at the scene of my unforeseen downfall. The atmosphere was fraught with tension, and the echoes of chaos lingered in the air, painting a vivid picture of the circumstances that led to that moment.

“When we arrived, the patient was slumped down on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinet. His chin was on his chest, and his airway was probably closed. The patient was unconscious and probably not breathing. The face was cyanotic, but the eyes constricted. We laid him down and began to bag-mask him and suction the entrance wound.

The wound was found just to the right of the nose and slightly up. There was no exit wound. We continued our resuscitation efforts on the way to the hospital as the patient was having airway difficulties. However, he did have a good breathing response and a strong rapid pulse P-100 BP /130/120.

Hospital personnel later X-rayed and found the bullet lodged in the brain, inserted an esophageal airway tube, and started I.V. 5% Destrosesol. Unfortunately, when the patient was transferred and stabilized at the hospital, Dr. Wein’s prognosis was that the “patient’s chances are poor.” 

To resume my narrative. I guess that pretty much summed up the scene as observed by the first responders. Of course, being K.O.’d, I have to make some assumptions; however, one first responder who showed up without calling came unbeknownst to anyone in the room and was not nearly so pessimistic as others. So, despite being uncalled, it was providence that he slipped in, just in the nick of time, as it turned out, and went to work straight away. Yet, despite the patient’s chances of being pronounced “poor,” providence’s intervention, which was the only real reason for hope anyway, established firm control of the situation, providing light in the darkness. This responder was none other than the Lord Jesus himself. 

The concept of God’s providential authority over human affairs is a recurring theme that emerges during unexpected moments of crisis throughout my narrative. In the years that followed, as I navigated periods of uncertainty before arriving at a solid foundation of true Christian faith, I began to understand this principle with clarity. The guiding providence of God is a significant element in this story, becoming particularly evident during various challenges I faced in years to come.