by Lisa Binion

Created on: April 06, 2007   Last Updated: May 11, 2007

On January 7, 1992, I was in a serious car wreck. My husband was an over-the-road truck driver, only home every few weeks or so. It was time for him to go back to work. We only had one car, so he would drive all of us to the city he worked out of, then I would drive me and our 2 children back home.
I don't remember that day at all. I don't remember saying goodbye to him, nor do I remember anything that happened once I got behind the wheel of the car. The next time that I remember anything, it was almost Valentine's Day.

What happened was this. One of my children apparently wanted something that had fallen in the floor of the front seat of the car. I leaned over to get it, and when I did, I lost control of the car. The car rolled over and over down a steep hill. Thankfully, someone witnessed the accident, and called for help.
My children, then 3 and 5 years old, were easily removed from the car. I was not removed quite so easily. The "jaws of life" had to be used to pry me out of the wreckage.
My children, Mandi and Kyle, were sent home to stay with my parents.
The authorities got a hold of my husband, who immediately left for the hospital that they were rushing me to. He even beat the helicopter there. So he was already there when they wheeled me into emergency surgery to stop my mysterious internal bleeding.
A chaplain met him in the waiting room. He asked my husband, Todd, if he wanted to pray. Todd promptly said he did, then proceeded to grab the chaplain's hands and lead him in a prayer for my healing. I came out of emergency surgery a lot faster than they expected me to. The doctors had easily found the problem - they had to remove my injured appendix.
They then proceeded to tell my husband that I would be in a coma for at least 6 weeks, if I made it. They really weren't even sure that I would survive. If I did survive, I would have brain damage and think on about the level of a six-year old. And I would definitely never walk again, nor regain full use of my left arm, which had bent at the elbow and become pinned up against me.
My husband camped out in the waiting room. He stayed right with me, continually praying over me, asking the Lord what he should do. He really didn't want to not allow them to do something that would save me, but neither did he want to allow them to do something unnecessary.
They had put breathing tubes down me and I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. When they decided that it was time to remove my breathing tube, they

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