Chapter 24
Since he almost fell over twice on the way to the bathroom, Tyler decided to forgo his morning shower. Pulling on jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and his John Deere hat, he glanced at himself in the mirror. Running his hand over his stubbly face, he shook his head. He looked like his old self, but inside he was unraveling.
“God, be in control today,” he said aloud, closing his eyes. “Give me answers—and relief.”
Lauren’s text came as he headed downstairs. Enlarging it to 140 percent made it possible for him to read it without squinting.
Don’t worry about breakfast or coffee. I’m on my way with both. I called the eye doctor. You have an appointment at 9:30.
Thanks. Lying on the couch, Tyler closed his eyes to rest them until she came.
“How are you?” Lauren asked, setting Tyler’s breakfast on the coffee table.
“Thankful for coffee and breakfast.” He raised his cup to hers. “Where’s little man?”
“Spending the day with Grandpa. I fed him before I left. Told Dad I’d be home before bedtime.” She sipped her coffee, sizing up Tyler. Obviously he hadn’t showered or shaved. He didn’t seem himself at all. “How are you feeling?”
“Thankful you’re driving today.” Tyler bit into his sandwich.
“That bad?” she frowned.
Tyler swallowed. “I’m thankful I have supportive friends.”
Lauren’s heart hurt to see him exhausted, to know his pain. “I’ll take inventory of your fridge and order groceries when we get home so I can make you a few meals.”
That brought a smile. “I’m thankful for your great cooking, too.”
As soon as Lauren and Tyler walked through the front door of the vision center, they were taken to an exam room. A technician went over the health inventory with him orally. He recalled all his serious falls and injuries based on what movie they happened during. Lauren searched the movies on her phone to get the correct year. Lauren knew the pain was increasing when Tyler lifted his hand to his head and tilted it. After what seemed like forever, she finished up and left the room.
“You doing okay?” She knew he wasn’t, but had to ask.
Tyler leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. “It’s what, nine forty-five, and I need a nap.”
The door opened and a brunette woman in her late twenties wearing a gray skirt suit and a white doctor’s coat walked in.
“Oh my.” She paused in the doorway. “The technicians weren’t kidding. You are more handsome in person. Even in a John Deere hat.”
Tyler shot Lauren a glare when she bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Dr. De Luca.” The woman extended her hand.
“You can call me Tyler.” He shook. “Or ruggedly handsome.”
A chuckle slipped out though Lauren tried to hold it back.
Dr. De Luca turned to her. “He’s funny. I see why you keep him around.”
“De Luca,” Tyler said. “Italian?”
“Yes, sir.” She busied herself logging into the computer in the room. “Great-grandparents came to America. I’ve never been but keep saying I’m going to trace my roots back there one day. Have you visited Italy?”
“Yes,” Tyler and Lauren answered at the same time.
Tyler smiled at Lauren. “Hopefully one day we’ll go back.”
“I watched some of the videos from after your accident and have seen the damage.” She inspected his face. “Nice bruising. How about you tell me what you remember.”
She typed while Tyler spoke, occasionally backspacing and often interjecting “that’s terrible” and “oh my.”
“Now a quick exam.” Dr. De Luca spun from her computer.
Shining a penlight in one eye and then the other, she asked him to track it. Lauren silently prayed for wisdom for the doctor, answers, and healing.
“How do you feel in crowded places?” the doctor asked.
Tyler rubbed his eyes. “Church yesterday was overwhelming.”
“How are you walking?” She returned to the computer and started typing.
“I feel off balance. I mean, I know I’m walking okay, but it feels weird.”
“Like walking on an air mattress?”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “I guess that’s a good way to describe it.”
“Fluorescent lights bother you?”
“Any lights for too long. I don’t even want to look at my phone. If I do, I need the brightness turned all the way down.”
Dr. De Luca wheeled back to him on her stool. “Your eyes aren’t tracking or scanning well. How’s driving?”
Tyler shook his head. “Haven’t tried. The way I’m feeling now, I don’t want to.”
“The good news is you have a classic case of brain trauma.”
Tyler’s eyes widened. “That’s good news?”
“Sure is. During the accident you were hit with such force it shifted your brain. When this happens, your brain can scrape against the top of your skull.” She made hand motions to illustrate. “This separated the neurons. They won’t simply go back together. You need to train them.”
“And this is good news?” he repeated.
“Yes, because that’s my specialty. First thing’s first. How’s your vision compared to before the accident?” She scanned the report on the computer. “You mentioned to the nurse things were blurry.”
“Yeah, it’s not the same. I find myself squinting when I’m trying to read my phone.”
“We’ll do a full eye exam today and find a prescription that can help. Most patients find it takes about a year for their eyes to return to how they were previously.”
Tyler shook his head. “My vision has always been fine. I don’t need glasses.”
“It’s not necessarily permanent. The glasses will bridge that gap while we work on restoring your vision to where it was. Sit back in the chair.”
The game of “which is clearer” quickly frustrated and annoyed Tyler as his eyes grew increasingly tired and his patience short.
I shouldn’t have to wear glasses, he continued to think. It’s not right. None of this is my fault.
Next came read this and that, followed by more computer inputting. “Give me a few minutes to gather the therapy items.” She rubbed her hands together. “This is my favorite part.”
Tyler massaged his temples. The dizziness and nausea returned. Lord, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. I was okay, walked away with scrapes and bruises. I counted my blessings. I was thankful for Your protection. Why are You making me go through this—
“So,” Lauren interrupted his internal complaining. “We can be thankful that in the area of brain trauma you are not outstanding.”
Looking up, he locked eyes with her. His best friend. The woman who walked through more pain in one year than any person should endure in a lifetime. Yet here she was, beside him, encouraging him to be thankful. Her words pierced his ungrateful heart.
Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes. “A textbook case, even. Maybe, if I’m lucky, they’ll write papers and articles about my brain. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Opening his eyes, he saw Lauren approaching him.
“Then people all over the medical community will know how mediocre your brain is.”
Tyler chuckled.
Stopping beside the chair, she took his hand in hers. “I’m thankful Dr. De Luca specializes in brain trauma. Sounds like our prayer for the best doctor was answered.”
“She’s even funny,” Tyler said.
“And very passionate about her job.”
“The dim lights are nice. Much easier on my eyes. And romantic.”
Lauren laughed. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
His eyes shifted from her face to their hands, then back again. Gratitude welled up in his heart. “I’m thankful you’re here.”
Lauren squeezed his hand. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
Tyler scanned the glasses section, grabbing one with a brown frame. Sliding them on, he turned to Lauren.
“What do you think?”
Lauren wrinkled her nose. “A little too big for you.” Reaching across him, she took a smaller pair with no frame around the bottom. “Try these.”
Adjusting them once on, he faced her.
Lauren’s pulse quickened when his eyes met hers. How could glasses make him more handsome? “I like them.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “They make you look sophisticated.”
Tyler frowned. “Sophisticated or old?”
“Sophisticated. Take a look.” Lauren held a mirror in front of him.
Tyler quickly removed them, handing the frames to the girl sitting at the desk. “I’ll take these.”
“You don’t want to see them on?” Lauren asked.
“All that matters is that you like them.” He walked to the sunglass section. “I can pick these.” Grabbing a black pair, he slipped them on. “Yes?” He glanced in the mirror at Lauren.
“Yes. Better get two pair. One for my car and one for yours.”
“Good idea.” Handing them to the girl sitting behind the computer, he slipped on his regular sunglasses. “Can they be ready tomorrow?”
Exhaustion hit once he settled in her passenger’s seat. “I don’t know how you did this.”
“The pain?” Lauren asked.
“Yeah, and things being blurry. It’s ridiculous.”
“Through prayer and petition, with thanksgiving.” Lauren rubbed his shoulder. “The support of friends helped a lot, too.”
He turned to face her. “I do appreciate you.”
“I’m thankful for all you’ve done for me and Adam over the past year. It’s a blessing to have the opportunity to help you.”
“I appreciate it, ’cause I’m needing a lot of help.”
“Hey, bro,” Danny called that evening. “How’d it go?”
“Apparently I have a textbook case of brain trauma. The doctor said I’m not tracking, can’t scan. My neurons are separated and only therapy will restore them.”
“So you’re doing therapy?”
“Yeah. I came home with a list of exercises to do four times a week. Fist passes, prism dips, holding a spoon to my nose. Lots of fun and humiliating stuff like that.”
“Nice. What time’s the show? I’ll be there.”
“Ha, ha. Thanks, but I think Lauren laughing at me is enough. I don’t need you on the sidelines heckling me.”
“She’s going over tomorrow?”
“Every day this week. I’m taking your advice and not arguing. Besides, you’re right. She was totally in her element today. Bought me groceries, cooked me lunch and dinner. I feel a little bad because her dad is taking care of David while she’s with me.”
Danny chuckled. “Don’t think twice about that. I’m sure he’s like my parents and loves his grandpa time.”
“I pick up my new glasses tomorrow.”
“Glasses?”
“Yep. Another bonus from the accident. My vision is blurry. Dr. De Luca thinks it’ll go back over time.” Tyler sighed. “I appreciate your prayers. I’m still pretty frustrated. Lucas invited me to meet with the editors in a couple weeks to go over the final edits. I really want to be there. Then there’s the acting ministry—”
“Be still and know He’s God. Several acting students applied to teach classes, including Sydney. We’ll be okay. I’ll have the play done by the end of the month, then we can hold auditions.”
“How is it?”
“Life changing. Of course Jesus’ story is nothing less.”
“Very true.”
“How about I come over on Saturday?” Danny asked. “Bring you a burrito. We can play darts, pool, maybe horseshoes?”
Tyler chuckled. “Sure. As long as you stand next to the dart board when I throw.”
He lay in the dark long after he hung up with Danny. There were no distractions—TV was too hard on his eyes, talking too long hurt his brain, even concentrating on the Bible was too difficult.
“God—” Tears stirred inside Tyler. There were no words. No prayers. Only desperation. Desperation to be whole, to hold on to God so he could make it through. His soul longed for a touch from the Lord. For comfort and peace. For His presence.
Opening his music app, Tyler found Adam’s worship album and pressed play. Turning the volume down, his thoughts cleared as he allowed his best friend to usher him into God’s presence. With each word Adam sang, Tyler thought of his struggle with cancer. He recalled how Adam’s heart broke to leave Lauren behind. He remembered the faith he walked in, trusting in God’s bigger plan and goodness. Most of all, he recollected the peace on his friend’s face as the end came. By the second song, the anxiousness washed away. The frustration disappeared. His pulse slowed and the pain dissipated. All that remained was the Lord. Though he didn’t vocalize the words, his soul rejoiced in God’s faithfulness. Assurance that he would be restored flooded his mind. Tyler’s heart worshipped in a way it never had.