EDITOR’S NOTE: The Times Free Press is continuing a series of stories from readers about life experiences they attribute to divine intervention. We’ll publish another each week as your stories continue to arrive. If you have a God Thing to share, email Life@timesfreepress.com, or mail to Life Department, Chattanooga Times Free Press, 400 E. 11th St., Chattanooga, TN 37403.
This week, Mary Jane Sylar describes the gift of being with her husband in his final minutes.
In October 2017, my husband had a bad fall in the parking lot of a local pharmacy, breaking the two largest bones in his body: the left femur and the left humerus. Plus, he hit his head hard on the pavement, which acerbated his already severe macular degeneration. He became nearly blind.
After surgery and two weeks in the hospital, he was transferred to a long-term rehab facility that did in-house dialysis. He had to be dialyzed three to five times a week. He was dependent upon personnel to take care of his every need: feeding, being cleaned, everything.
Physical therapy was too difficult. He quit eating and drinking and slept more and more. After four weeks, he went into a coma.