My Account of The Incident That Changed My Life
On a sunny autumn Saturday, November 5th, 2016 at approximately 12noon, I decided to do some yard work. Just days before I received notice that the weekend worship conference that I was scheduled to take part had to be rescheduled. So though I still was scheduled to lead worship for a Messianic congregation later that Saturday, I figured I had plenty of time to at least start some much needed yard work at home. I started cleaning my front porch, then the backyard porch. I even cleaned up remnants of dog poo. Then I let Sparkle (my pitbull) roam freely out back as I began my leaf-raking. Finally I recalled that the roof gutters needed to be cleaned. The roof had been an overall issue of late; it was old and rotting, and even the back gutter had unscrewed and fallen due to the molding palate behind it. Several roof experts had come by, giving me estimates ranging from $3,000 to $7,000 to do all the work. One major problem I was having was the fact that the front house gutter was so full that it caused water to leak inside the house when it rained outside. Just weeks before, one guy suggested that I go up on the roof myself and rake out the leaves from inside the gutter. I remember he made it sound so easy. Well, why not? Im "man of the house." I had been up on the roof once before, why not again?
I had rigged the fallen-hanging gutter with a broomstick penned to an old wooden piano bench. So if you can imagine: Back of the house, an upstairs screened-in porch with a side door -- the side door opens up to a wooden walkway that extends about 40 feet. Above the walkway is the end of part of the roof with this unscrewed-hanging gutter. I placed a broomstick in the middle of the gutter to hold it up in the air, and the other end of the broomstick was penned to the old piano bench, so that the gutter actually hung back in place, AND didnt look so bad!
So my goal was to get on the roof of the screened-in porch, clean that section of the roof, then walk across the roof to the front house gutter and clean that one as well. I placed the ladder on the balcony-walkway and climbed up to the roof. After cleaning off the back section, I then proceeded to walk across toward the front house section. Nope! I declined that part of the job and just decided to call it a day. I approached the old flimsy ladder and immediately froze with great concern (fear). I feared that the ladder was not my friend and that I could not trust it to descend to the walkway. Perhaps too abruptly I moved the ladder from the walkway and let it stand from the ground extending upward to the walkway. Of course I still had the dilemma of getting from the roof to the walkway. Well, just then two major problems revisited me -- no one was home or even nearby to assist me and my cellphone was in my bedroom charging -- {In retrospect it was good that my cellphone was charging as I was going to need a full charge for my soon coming ER visit}.
Not being one who likes to panic, I calmly sat down on the loose-tile roof, contemplating and praying. No neighbors were in sight so I even called out to my dog a couple times (not sure what I was expecting her to do). {It was during the next several minutes that I became convinced of the divine paradox of the moment}. I felt the Lord's hand on me, and a still small voice encouraging me, "I'm with you, trust Me." As I sat there awaiting more confirmation, yet feeling ushered into a divine state of emergency, lo and behold, bees appeared. Not just one bee, but perched on a loose-tile roof environment creates an exponential environment where even two bees seems like eight. Bees in November? On my roof? Now? I couldn't wrestle with decision anymore. In a split second I took a two-step and jumped from the slanted plane roof to the wooden walkway -- only there were several objects including my rake and the rigged broomstick penned to the piano bench (about 10 feet of obstacles) -- so in essence I did a 10-foot horizontal from a 10-foot platform. At one point during my four-second acrobatic maneuver I even closed my eyes as long tree branches were overreaching into my view of the walkway. I also had to duck my head from hitting the hanging gutter and awning as I was landing. The landing was nearly perfect from my left leg point-of-view. However, my right leg apparently took the brunt of the impact, rolled, and I fell to the ground. Prior to this moment I had never suffered a broken bone so I had no experience to compare it to, especially since there was no external protrusion, only internal. All I knew is that I could not walk nor crawl. I was in such a horrific shock that I did not scream, cry, nor yell. Instead I grabbed my right leg and said, "Ow, my leg, 9-1-1."
Just then strange things began to happen. First, a childlike voice hovered in the air asking, "Are you okay?" I replied to the voice, "No. 9-1-1." Then two men approached. They were strangers. They came from my front yard, walked by the side of the house (there is no fence), and entered the backyard. I heard one man speak to my off-leash pitbull -- "It's okay girl" he said as I watched a stranger pet my dog. He then looked up and shouted, "We got your dog! Do you want us to call 9-1-1?" Of course I replied "yes." He shouted again, "OK, what's your address? How old are you?" I told him and he repeated the information on the 9-1-1 call. The other gentleman spoke to me, "Don't move, I'm coming up!" I lay there on the balcony, staring at the ladder that I previously placed on the ground level extending to the walkway. I thought quickly to myself that he should not climb the ladder, but I was too much in shock to speak. Just then, without climbing the ladder, the second man appeared by my side, placed his hand on my chest, and began praying for me:
"God, I pray that you heal this young man. Let no more injuries be sustained to his body. I ask that you heal and comfort him right now in Jesus' name."
Then he asks, "What's your name?" "Nathan" I reply. "Nathan, I'm with you. Just breathe in and out. I'm with you Nathan. Don't worry. It's okay. Breathe in, breathe out. I'm with you Nathan. The paramedics will be here in three minutes." As he spoke the man would touch my left hand, forearms, arms, neck, back, left leg, and repeat the cycle. As he touched each body part I felt what seemed like electric currents running through my body. Then I replied quite dramatically, "No, the paramedics will take too long!" "Relax," the stranger said. "they will be here in three minutes." I wish I had a stopwatch because it was about three minutes later that paramedics joined us on the walkway. Just beforehand, the other stranger who was with my dog, asked, "What do you want me to do with your dog?" I told him that the backdoor was already unlocked and that he could call her by her name and beckon her to go in the house via that backdoor. I could not see them, but quite UNusually she listened and obeyed the stranger. I then thought to myself, I am completely vulnerable -- here I am laying on this upstairs backyard balcony with a broken leg, and two strangers who I have never met nor seen approach and could, if they wanted, take full advantage of me and my apparently over-friendly pitbull.
So as the paramedics arrive and tend to me, the stranger stands up to walk away. Immediately I sit up extending my arm toward the man and asking him to wait, "Please, stop, at least tell me your name." The man stops, turns toward me, smiles, and from my perspective - disappears. I never saw him go back through the house, he never ascended the ladder, descended the ladder, nor did I witness any interaction between him and the paramedics. In fact when I asked the paramedics if they were going to stop and interview the man who helped me, they insisted that there was no one there, and asked if I had gone unconscious during the fall. "Of course not! I've been awake the entire time and never hit my head. He helped me. Who else could have called 9-1-1 when I have no cellphone?" Their response, "Relax, Mr. Irving, we're going to give you a shot of morphine now, we believe you broke your leg in three places." Then they proceeded to examine my other body parts before lifting me up. They touched my hands, forearms, arms, neck, back, and left leg (in that order). They asked, "Is your arm okay? How's your neck? Is your back okay?" They must have asked me these questions about 10 times per body part. Each time I exclaim, "No, I'm fine, just my right leg." As they examined and touched each body part that the stranger previously touched, I became more and more convinced that I had entertained and been "touched by an angel." The paramedics continued to share their shock among each other as they prepared to lift me onto an orange sheet. I heard them describe my acrobatic jump, the distance, and the miracle fact that I indeed was not at least paralyzed from the neck down. They lifted me onto the sheet and carried me through my house and outside the front door where my neighbors had gathered. "It's going to be okay Nathan" some of them said as I was being transferred to the stretcher. I looked around for the two men. They were nowhere in sight. I recall laying on the stretcher for a few minutes before the ambulance drove to the hospital. There was a Latin American woman paramedic who held my hand as I lay still writhing in pain. I remember the faces of the other few firemen and medics who assisted by carrying me and placing me into the ambulance. I remember all the faces that helped me, but the faces of the angels are still a blur to this day. I remember slightly what they were wearing and could guesstimate their ages being mid-40's, both Caucasian with clothes like painters or carpenters. That's about it. I probably would not recognize them again.
At the local hospital, doctors and nurses examined me again, also shocked by my miraculous story and extraordinary isolated injury. Close friends came right away to comfort, wait, and pray. After a few hours an orthopedic surgeon came in to tell me that he personally would not feel comfortable performing the corrective procedure and furthermore, if I were his son, he would refer me to University of Maryland Baltimore Shock Trauma. If it were one fracture, no problem, but after his evaluation, it was not one, nor three, but SIX places that I broken my right leg. Amazingly only my tibia was fractured, while my fibula remained perfectly intact. I asked the surgeon about Johns Hopkins Hospital, to which he responded positively and promised to check to see if they could accommodate my surgery.
12 hours later, at approximately 3:00am on Sunday, November 6th, I was transported from Baltimore Washington Medical Center to Johns Hopkins Hospital. 12 hours after my arrival at Johns Hopkins, I was taken down to the operating room. More friends and family gathered in my waiting room, reading Scriptures, prophesying, and praying with me. One pastor friend had given me a special self-made cloth listing several healing Scriptures and a powerful prayer of agreement. Each person in the room read aloud one passage from the cloth and prayed accordingly for me. Just as I was about to be taken to the operating room, my friends insisted that the doctors allow me to wear the cloth around my wrist for the entire surgery. I awoke from anesthesia and the cloth was still in place.
After three days of medicine and therapy, I was discharged to go home on Wednesday, November 9th. I received two days of in-home therapy, and though supported at home by close family, I still fell twice in the bathroom. Very early Saturday, November 12th I had to be taken by ambulance yet again to the local hospital, this time because of constant calf pain in my right leg. The ultrasound ruled out blood clots, but my orthopedic surgeon was contacted and he requested for me to transport to Johns Hopkins immediately. More tests and x-rays were done over the course of 12 hours and then I was discharged to go home again. Three days later I was scheduled for a follow-up with my orthopedic surgeon at Johns Hopkins. He fully evaluated my leg and ankle but continued to express concerns about my ankle ligament. I recall him raising concerns the Wednesday prior before I was discharged the first time, but he opted to wait to see how I would progress with healing from the initial surgery.
The Initial Surgery
Dr. Shafiq is a fairly young doctor with a very warm and calm disposition. He and his colleagues performed a tibia, right, closed surgery on my right leg. An incision was made just above my right knee, and then a titanium rod was placed through the knee, but starting below the knee and extending down to my ankle. The rod acts as a bridge to connect the fractured tibia, and it includes several nails and screws to hold it in position. The rod also acts a bone replacement and enhancer -- it actually promotes rapid and strong bone growth, so to the point that the new bone growth will be stronger and more efficient than the original bone. No cast needed post-surgery, only a gauze to cover up the staples and sutures throughout my leg, an Ace bandage, and a Cam boot to be worn most of the time, especially when moving around. Lastly I was deemed NO WEIGHT BEARING on the right leg for at least six weeks.
So here I was on Tuesday, November 15th, just nine days after surgery number one, being asked to admit again for a second surgery. I did not hesitate though, the Lord gave me peace and I trusted Him and the doctor's expertise.
The Second Surgery
This time I needed a compression of ankle ligament in order to have proper alignment as my right leg was recovering and healing inside. Dr. Shafiq showed me the various degrees of ankle rotation and how many athletes suffer from this kind of injury to the ligament where this same surgery becomes necessary. It is one of those injuries that can be overlooked but may be damaging in the future if left unchecked. Good thing the doctor advised and acted sooner rather than later. So the procedure quite simply called for a compression, closing in of my right ankle ligament, and a wire being placed to hold the compression. The wire compression is the best approach for the surgery, though still one of fragility. So instead of the few four to six weeks of NO WEIGHT BEARING, Dr. Shafiq now advised 10 weeks.
I reluctantly counted the weeks, cringing at the thought of February 2017 being the first time that I would be allowed to put weight on my right leg and being learning to walk again. Then my faith increased as I was encouraged my family and friends, as I read the Bible, and prayed. The Lord began speaking to me right out of the Bible. He started with Song of Solomon, particularly chapter 7:10. Then He spoke to me from Second Corinthians 4:7-10. I found that the more I engaged in conversation with the Lord, the more He wanted to engage and encounter me through personal revelation, dreams, and visions.
Two days after the second surgery, I was discharged yet again, this time to a rehab facility called Genesis. It was at this exact time of my transfer to Genesis Rehab that I received messages from prophetic friends about rebirth, new beginning, and offspring -- Scriptures that were given in conjunction were Psalms 52, Psalms 112, and Isaiah 44 [all the room numbers that I had been assigned to at Johns Hopkins Hospital and at Genesis Rehab Center].
The Aftermath
The Lord has certainly been speaking. I will continue to chronicle my journey and update this blog. I was supposed to fly out on Thursday, November 24th for the longest ministry trip that I have ever taken. I was scheduled to minister in Germany and Turkey over the course of several weeks, returning to the States on December 28th. Obviously the Lord had a whole other divine plan in mind that I am learning to embrace. I embrace the divine paradox of despair and glory, pain and gain, lost without loss. It is truly the eternal weight of glory that I am seeing through the eyes of Jesus in this matter, which far exceeds the experience of the temporal realm. I am learning to respond to divine tragedy with a heart toward growing in love, gazing at the beauty of God, and longing for eternal rewards. I have always believed that our tests and trials in this life could not ever be so important for us to worry about or view as so great a thing to cause us to react irresponsibly. This life is too short for any of these things to matter so much. Of course pain is real. Hurt, persecution, despair, suffering. All of these things that Jesus became acquainted with too well. However Jesus did not get snared into the moment of testing as the greater thing, because He knew that His would be an eternal victory with supernatural rewards exceeding the impact of the temporal moment. So as we live out the "carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body", we begin to clearly understand by and by that our sufferings are not the whole reality; there is a greater reality called eternity, God's Kingdom coming, a Heaven on Earth reality that will one day make every persistent heart glad. You'll hear Him say, "Well done" as He remembers your pressing in and pushing forward despite the paradox of being blessed but hard-pressed on every side. Even if people remember your life accomplishments hundreds of years after you're dead and gone, it still will not match the millions of years that the Lord will remember your response to criticisms, bone injuries, financial hardships, and a myriad of other harsh temporal conditions. Remember Jesus' words: "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" and "Do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."
