God’s Role in Fred’s Brain Injury and Surgery
God was in control from the beginning
to the end of this remarkable journey and story.
I truly believe that God was in control of every moment during my remarkable journey—from the accident that almost cost me my life to the surgeries that have forever changed me.
It all began on a cold mid—November night on Cape Cod. My wife Sue and I were preparing to embark on a long drive to Michigan and Utah for the holidays—and to welcome a new grandson into our family. The night before our departure, Sue and I enjoyed dinner with great friends. Later, as I was making a turn at a gas station, I hit a curb hard enough to flatten my tire. It was about 10 p.m. in the middle of nowhere; there wasn’t a soul or car in sight.
I pulled in to pump gas and to figure out how to get to our hotel, which was three miles away. To our dismay, AAA couldn’t locate any service providers nearby, nor was there a repair shop open at that late hour. Out of the darkness, a young man appeared, knocking at our window. He was our first “angel.” Although it took him more than 30 minutes to fit the temporary spare tire on our car, he never accepted the $100 I tried to offer. Instead, he said he was a believer and that God would reward him for his kindness—urging us simply to “pay it forward.” I thanked the Lord.
The next morning, while unloading and repacking our car for the long drive to Detroit, I backed into a large cooler and fell, hitting my head hard on the driveway. I felt fine at the time—no signs of a concussion—and after purchasing two new tires at a Lexus dealer, we drove 750 miles to Detroit without any apparent problems.
We spent five weeks with family during the holidays, then flew to Utah to visit my son Zac before returning to Detroit and eventually driving back to New Hampshire. Throughout that entire seven—week period, I had no symptoms that hinted at the trouble lurking beneath the surface.
On January 2nd, however, I began to notice a slight limp in my right leg while hosting some house guests. Concerned, I saw a doctor that very day. The doctor couldn’t detect any concussion signs and mentioned scheduling an MRI. Since the symptoms were minor, we agreed to have it done when we returned to New Hampshire on January 29th.
Then, two “angels” named Grace—one a guest in our home who is a physician’s assistant and another a nurse at a local clinic—insisted I go to an emergency room for a CT scan. That afternoon on January 3rd, I drove to Concord, New Hampshire, expecting a clean bill of health. However, when I was ushered into a room by wheelchair, hooked up to an IV, an EKG, and a vital signs monitor, my worst fears were confirmed by a high—definition CT scan: while my right brain looked normal, my left brain was swimming in blood.
I was immediately admitted and taken to surgery the next morning—January 4th—on the very day I was scheduled to fly to Detroit. Had I taken that flight, I likely wouldn’t be here today. I am eternally grateful to the two Graces for urging me to get that CT scan.
That first surgery, although critical, was only the beginning. Two months later, I underwent a far more invasive craniotomy. In a meeting at the end of February with my neurologist—joined by Sue and my daughter Dena—I learned that delaying this second surgery was too risky. The plan was to bore a hole in my skull, insert a suction device and a drain to remove what the neurologist said would resemble a thick, “dirty motor oil” of blood from my skull. After almost an hour of discussion about recovery times, the severe pain I would likely endure for a week or more, and the possibility that I might never fully recover, we decided to proceed with the surgery scheduled for March 5th at Elliott Hospital in Manchester, New Hampshire.
For several weeks, I was buoyed by the prayers of hundreds, and every morning Sue, Dena, and I prayed together—a practice I hope to continue forever. During a pre—op visit, another doctor confirmed every detail the neurologist had shared, even adding his own heartfelt promise to pray for me. When was the last time a doctor promised to pray for you? That commitment gave me strength.
A Blessed Vision
One night before the surgery, in a moment of desperation, as I lay awake praying for relief from anxiety, I experienced something extraordinary—a vision. With my eyes closed, while clearly awake and not dreaming, I saw a high—definition, full—color image of a road map. It wasn’t a video, but a still picture slowly panning, much like the Ken Burns style I’d seen on TV. On the map, large letters read “Queen City.” Sue and I had no idea what it meant but Dena explained that Manchester, New Hampshire—where my surgery was to take place—is often called “Queen City.” This vision calmed my anxiety and gave me renewed confidence that God was watching over me.
The Second Surgery and
an Amazing Recovery
The day of surgery arrived. I checked into the hospital at 7:00 a.m. for my 8:30 a.m. procedure. At check—in, I signed a form acknowledging my right to appeal if I were discharged from the ICU too soon. Although my neurologist had predicted a 60 to 90 minute surgery, I woke up in recovery to find that the procedure had lasted only 30 minutes despite the significant amount of blood removed. It was clear that God was at work.
In the ICU, I was monitored meticulously. Every hour, the staff checked my vital signs and asked the standard questions—my name, my date of birth, and my pain level on a scale of 0 to 10. To my astonishment, my pain was consistently a 0. For the first few hours, I thought the lingering effects of the anesthetic or oxycodone were dulling my pain. But when a nurse later explained that I hadn’t received any oxycodone—only Tylenol—I felt a surge of gratitude.
For the entire day and a half in the ICU, my pain score remained at 0, except for one brief moment when a past rib injury flared up as I tried to sleep. A small dose of oxycodone brought the pain down, enough to sleep, but needed only for rib pain.
Remarkably, I was discharged directly from the ICU—a highly unusual step that further underscored the success of my recovery. I even joked with the ICU staff, calling my recovery “a wonderful forced vacation” and referring to my room as “The Elliott Resort and Spa Presidential Suite.” On the day of surgery, I was energetic, and almost euphoric. I even jokingly said to the staff, if they tried to discharge me early I would invoke my right to appeal.
Impacting Faith in Others
Soon enough, word had spread around the ICU about my remarkable recovery. Several visitors from the ICU staff, curious about my story, stopped by to chat. I eagerly embraced the opportunity to share my testimony. Even in a state known for having one of the smallest percentages of regular churchgoers, I found myself ministering right from my hospital bed.
I spent time talking with nurses and other ICU staff about my first book, God Revealed, sharing personal stories like how the Lord had relieved me from severe migraine headaches that had plagued me in my twenties. As I spoke, I saw tears in the eyes of two of them and knew that my story was touching their lives. Those two mntioned that they also suffered from migraines and planned to buy my book to earn more about how faith can truly transform lives. Only God could know that these two ladies needed to hear that story.
Extreme Gratitude to God
Looking back, I see an unmistakable pattern of divine intervention in every step of my ourney. Here’s just a few of the miracles I experienced:
The young man who changed our tire and declined any payment, insisting we “pay it forward.”
Two angels named Grace who urged me to get that life—saving CT scan.
The timely intervention that kept me from boarding a doomed flight on January 4th.
A renewed commitment to finalizing my estate plans, ensuring that my affairs were in order, completed the night before surgery.
A doctor’s promise to pray for me.
The mysterious “Queen City” vision that comforted me in my darkest moments.
The chance to share my testimony and faith with fellow workers in the ICU.
A dramatic change in lifestyle—a deepened devotion to God, family, and the calling I believe I have been given.
Every prayer was answered in a way that defies explanation. I continue to give thanks to the Lord for not only the miraculous results of my surgeries and the absence of pain but also for His infinite wisdom and perfect timing in every aspect of this journey.
Praise the Lord!
