"OVERBOARD!"
(The Spencer Beals Story)
 

By: Spencer Beals

When I was a young man in my early twenties, I had my first experience with the Lord. I was lost and doing far too many things of the world. I became desperate, and asked the Lord to come into my heart. I seemed to be heading in a new direction. Somehow, someway, I lost that direction. By the time I was in my thirties, I was so lost. I'm sure you've heard the expression (Been there, done that) could easily have applied to my life. I continued my wayward journey, and I mean wayward. Drugs, alcohol, pornography, cocaine addiction, and I could go on.

On August 10, 1996, I became very sick, bloated, and bleeding from all my orifices. This was mostly due to all my drinking (fifth of peppermint schnapps everyday for 25 years). I went to the hospital and was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. My liver literally exploded. I had less than 8 percent liver function. The doctor, who cared for me, told my niece, that there was no point in getting me a full month supply of medication (this was after a week in the hospital of detoxification and care) and that I would never live that long.

I remember the night I went to the hospital, and the doctor telling me I was in dire straits, (a term my mother used to use, bless her heart, she's in heaven now). Well they sent me home with a pocket full of medication, and very little hope. For some reason, and now I know, (it was Gods' will) I never had the slightest inclination I would die.

After surviving the first 2 months or so, Devery, (my wife, whom I love and cherish, and who stood beside me all the way) was becoming discouraged, because they had me on all the wrong medication. They were giving me downers, and sleeping pills, etc., so I would be comfortable as I died. The pills were literally driving me out of my mind, not that I'm not anyway.

But, that's when God took over. We came in contact with a new doctor (Dr. Godallah) who took a cotton to me, as well as me finding assurance in her.

I started making (I would say we, Devery and I) trips to Ann Arbor to the University of Michigan, to discuss having a liver transplant. After all, I wasn't dying, never thought about dying, and they weren't getting rid of me that easily.

The hospital in Ann Arbor was having me come down about every 6 months.  By the way, my new doctor put me on some new medication, that was helping me a lot more than the old; I wasn't so disoriented or confused so much.  The doctor in Ann Arbor, I believe, had no intention of putting me on the liver donor list, and really who could blame him.  After all, I destroyed the one I had, and I really didn't deserve one. That's another reason, I know Gods' hand was in on it.

Dr G. (The nickname we affectionately gave our doctor) decided we should contact Henry Ford Hospital and talk to them. Dr G, talked to Dr. Brown, and Dr Brown decided to take on my case.  This was after a year and a half of getting nowhere with Ann Arbor, and immediately things began to happen. After another year of poking, and prodding, and transfusions, sometimes 2 to 3 a week (I was losing blood almost as quick as I was receiving it, the toilet was full after each trip there). The doctors told Devery I had about one week to live. They told her that she better start gathering the family, because the time was drawing near.

The funeral homes were calling her, and she was trying to keep the family together, yet she would sleep in my room, night after night, so that I wouldn't have to die alone. Still, I never once took into consideration that I was about to die (Thank the Lord) or perhaps I would have. But as I told you before, my death wasn't in Gods' plan. God has a plan for each and every one of us, and it's so important we surrender ourselves to him, and follow his will.

A couple of days before my donor's liver arrived.  Due to a car accident in Detroit, I now have the liver of a 41 year old man.  A little black nurse came to my bedside (her name was Leah) and asked me if I knew Jesus. I told her I thought so, but I knew I wasn't headed in the right direction. She then held my hand, and she led me through a prayer of redemption, (once again I thank the Lord.)

The liver was a perfect match, and the operation went quite well.  Although, after the transplant I remember being in the recovery room and looking out the hall at the doctors.  They all seemed to have their heads down, and I thought surely I had died. I looked up at my wife, and told her I was sorry, but that I had died.

That was the last thing I remember before slipping into a coma. Although my daughter told me, almost a year later, that I looked at her and asked her how it felt to watch her father die. She said she burst into tears, ran out into the hall, grabbed that little nurse, and asked her if her daddy was giving up and going to die. The nurse held her, gave her a soft smile, and told her, your daddy's going to be just fine. She also told me the next day I had asked the nurse for a gun, because I couldn't take it anymore. I don't remember those two incidents.

I was in a coma for 13 days. As of now, I remember twice coming out of the coma.  The first time it occurred, Devery had gone to get something to eat, and I must have started acting up (I found out later that I did).  They called Devery to come over to help out.  They called her because she seemed to be able to handle me better than they could. She immediately climbed over top of me, straddled me, and held my arms down. It just so happened that she had just gotten through eating a hotdog with onions on it. She breathed in my face, and I come out of the coma like a "smokin' rocket."  I told her that her breath stunk, and to get out of my face. I think if she would have known that it worked that well, she would have eaten a whole barrel full of those onions.

The second time, the nurses took me down to have an M.R.I. This is when you lay on your back on a small bed, and they whisk you into a tunnel-like chamber. Once inside they sent out noises to check me for brain activity. While I was in that chamber, I remember coming out of the coma, and for a few brief moments, and the only way I can describe this feeling, was joy unspeakable and full of glory. Then all heck broke loose. I was pulling out IV's and tubes, and everything else they had conjured into my body. It was a very painful experience, except for those brief moments, when I felt like I died and went to heaven.

The doctors told Devery, that the liver was functioning, but there would be some brain damage. How much, they weren't sure, but possibly I would be a vegetable. Now this is the kicker... What the doctor's didn't know was my Heavenly Father was busy doing some repair work. Closing broken windows and opening new ones. If it was brain damage I was suffering, then maybe we all ought to get on our knees, and ask God for a little brain damage.

It took God six days to create the world and all its splendor. It took him 13 days to repair my mind. The only brain damage I had was before I went into that coma.

Now I feel like a new man. My wife and I have started up a fence company. I'm working as often as I can Monday through Saturday. Most importantly, I'm living for Jesus and He's working miracles in my life. I realize I'm not worthy of His great love. What I want people to understand is that God has a plan for each and everyone of us. And if we will just relent, and ask Jesus to come into our hearts and to forgive us of our sins, He will show you His plan for your life.

There is a light out there, the Light of Jesus, and I'm walking in the light. I can't fathom how any one person could exist in our world today without knowing Him.

I thank my Heavenly Father a million times over for all He has done for me, and for all He will do. I can no longer imagine a day without Jesus. I was saved twice that day, once on the operating table, and most importantly, eternally. It's a no lose situation.  You get a piece of heaven on earth, and you can be assured He is preparing for you a home in heaven.

It was August 10, 1996 that a minister or priest came to my bedside as they were pumping blood out of my stomach. He was there to give me my last rites. I told him I didn't want them, and my precious mom told them to leave me alone.

You know, I could be in hell burning and forever separated from my Father.  Instead I'm on my way to heaven. I can most truly and honestly say, I am "God's Miracle Man."