by Bob Russell, ©2024
(Aug. 19, 2024) — [Editor’s Note: Please see previous chapters of this series here.]
I write this chapter on August 19, 2024, ten years to the day after the severe stroke that nearly took my life and spawned this series of articles to give praise and glory to Almighty God for bringing me through a horrible incident that should have ended my days on earth. But God wasn’t through with me yet, nor was His plan for the future of America and its citizens. I believe God brought me from certain death to a current very limited state of physical ability and will bring total restoration at a time of His choosing, to bring glory to Himself, and I am doing my best to cooperate.
This is the story of a ten-year journey. On August 5, 2024 I had a complete physical examination as I have every year since I turned 60. On that day my personal doctor told me that at age 64 years, 8 months I had the metabolism of a very healthy 40-year-old man and that if I continued my current physical fitness program I could very easily live to be 150 years old. He had never seen a man my age in such fine condition.
On August 19, 2014 I suffered a massive stroke. When the ambulance got me to St. John’s Hospital in Tulsa I was immediately taken in for a CT scan or an MRI; I don’t know which, but the attending neurologist told his team to make me comfortable, that I wouldn’t live through the night. A few days later he told my family that it looked as if I would live for a while but would be totally paralyzed, never get out of bed and would be a mental vegetable, never knowing who or where I was nor able to function. I would be alive but not living, and that would be a very short period of time because of the amount of brain damage I suffered in the stroke.
I had my first office visit in February 2015. During that visit the doctor told me that in 25 years he had never seen anyone suffer as much brain damage as I did and survive. He also told me that death should have been instant and that it was as if someone had put a 12-gauge shotgun to my head and pulled the trigger (it is apparent to me he has never seen anyone take a point-blank shotgun blast to the head). I have, and the damage I witnessed was much worse than mine. He told me that 60% of the right side of my brain died as a result of the stroke. He surmised that a blood clot had come from my abdomen and lodged in my right carotid artery, partially plugging it, and the resulting increase in blood pressure had torn six pieces off the clot. One took out my left arm, another my left leg, and essentially the entire left side of my body. Also very damaged were my vision, balance, memory, speech, and emotions. That is when he told me that the fact I lived through it was a major miracle. For several years, and still to some extent, I lose my composure when people are complimentary to me. I don’t have any anger issues but can cry as quickly as a TV preacher and be just as genuine as a pregnant woman.
I am told my vision and speech came back very soon, but I don’t remember anything about the ten days I spent in the stroke ICU at St. John’s nor the first three weeks at Claremore Nursing Home. The first thing I remember was the therapy team at the nursing home getting me out of bed, into a wheelchair and taking me to the therapy room to begin working on getting me functional again. The head of the team, a man, stood in front of me and put his thigh against my left knee to keep it from buckling. Two women stood at my side, holding me up because I couldn’t balance myself. He put a Tulsa phone book on the floor and told me to step up on it, but I couldn’t lift my leg to get it on the 6″-thick book. He then put a Claremore book down, and I couldn’t step on that, either. It was only 1″ thick. One of the women took hold of my calf and raised it up onto the phone book. This went on for about 15 minutes before they started moving me down the 10′ length of the parallel bars. I got down and back, then had to sit and rest.
I had an hour of therapy per day and the routine was repeated every day until I could step up on the Tulsa book and could make 10 trips before I needed to rest. After about three weeks I was able to get in and out of the wheelchair by myself and make the parallel bar trips on my own. I got to where I could do 30 down and back at a time before needing a rest. After a few weeks I would go to the therapy room on my own power and would use various items to work out with on my own. Soon they got me an A-frame device to help my balance and began taking me for walks down the hall and eventually outside. When I got strong enough and could balance myself, they let me go for walks alone, only having a therapist check on me every 10 minutes or so to see how I was doing. After 10 weeks I was released to go home. The doctor told my wife I needed something to do to keep me active, give me a reason to get up every day and keep my mind focused on recovery.
There is a nursing home dedicated to caring for veterans in Claremore, so my wife called to see if they had any kind of program I could participate in during my recovery. They had a volunteer program I could get into, thereby helping other disabled veterans and help myself at the same time. I started there on May 8, 2015 and amassed 8,534 hours of volunteer time before the covid scamdemic shut it down in March 2020. I was very limited but could help in the dietary and recreation departments. I went back briefly in 2021 but a resident tested positive for covid and they shut me down again. When the democrats took office in January 2021 biden decided mandatory “covid vaccine” shots would be a requirement to be employed or to volunteer at the center. I refused to let them inject that poison into me so I can’t go back as long as biden, or any other democrat, holds the office of president.
I currently volunteer at churches I attend. I mostly just open doors and welcome people. It isn’t much but it is something I can do; it doesn’t take much effort so I do what I can to contribute. I hold doors at Faith Holiness Tabernacle, the recovery program at CedarPoint Church on Monday evenings, another recovery program on Thursday, and serve in any way I am able. I don’t do much, but it gives me a sense of purpose (wise doctor) and keeps me active at the same time. By the time I get home on Monday night I am usually in a lot of pain from standing/walking a lot but it is worth the physical pain to feel at least a little bit useful. The Thursday night Celebrate Recovery at Christ Outreach Church is much smaller and I greet people there also. It doesn’t seem like much to me but others have a much different view of my door-opening.
I do what little I can as a way to serve God and to try to set a good example for others who might now or in the future suffer a debilitating medical problem from illness or accident. People don’t need whole bodies to serve God; He takes whatever is offered with grace. I don’t have much to offer God, but what I have I offer willingly and with a positive attitude, waiting as patiently as I can for my day of restoration to arrive. When I stand before Him in judgment He won’t ask me why I didn’t do things I am not able to do, but He could ask me why I didn’t use what ability He left me to do what I could.
My recovery to this point has been difficult and painful and is still quite painful at times, but I push as hard as I can to improve. I believe God helps those who help themselves. I have a lot of faith but that faith wouldn’t help me much if I hadn’t been willing to get out of that bed and develop as God gave me ability. The few things I am able to do are very rewarding; I get a sense of being useful and the confidence that I am doing all God expects from me.
I submit this in the name of The Most Holy Trinity, in faith, with the responsibility given to me by Almighty God to honor His work and not let it die from neglect.
August 19, 2024