From Crisis to Miracle

June 2003

Dear Friends:

A few days ago, I received a deeply emotional letter from a physician-friend, Dr. Roy Stringfellow, who was with me, by God’s providence, on the night that I experienced the greatest crisis of my life. The episode that could have taken me from this earth began on June 16th, 1998, exactly five years ago this month. Shirley and I had put in a long 12-hour day at Focus on the Family before driving home to our townhouse. I knew that she was hungry but was simply too tired to cook. Because I had already eaten, I offered to fix a hamburger for her. As I put the meat on the bun, I was stricken without warning by a major stroke. It rendered me unable to see clearly or even to speak. Shirley had just read an article about the disease and recognized instantly what had happened. She also knew how critical it was that she act quickly. I owe my life to the cool decisions this great lady made in the minutes that followed, even as fear and apprehension gripped her heart.

First, she called 911 and urged the paramedics to respond immediately. Then she called my cousin, Rev. H.B. London and his wife, Beverley, and asked them to meet us at the hospital. Next, she called our neighbors, Dr. Roy and Carolyn Stringfellow, and requested that they come to support her during this terrifying time. She put our personal telephone book in her purse so she could call our family as soon as possible, and even fed the dog because she knew she would not be returning for many hours. During those 15 minutes, and throughout the night, I could not utter a word or do anything to help myself.

I will be forever indebted to the Londons and the Stringfellows, and of course, to Shirley, for what they did on that evening. Roy and Carolyn had just been through a life-threatening medical crisis with their own son, Clint, and were exhausted from the ordeal. Nevertheless, they turned around and hurried to my bedside. And thus began the longest and most consequential night of my life.

I have written this background so that you will understand the context of Dr. Stringfellow’s letter, which appears below. Let me emphasize that he was not endeavoring to heap undue praise on me or Shirley; nor am I attempting to be self-serving in sharing his words with you. My hope is that you will simply find encouragement in this memoir penned by a caring Christian physician as he revisits an experience that was traumatic not only for me, but for him as well. I also hope you will reflect on God’s divine intervention in a seemingly hopeless situation. These are the words of my good friend, written just several days ago.

Dear Jim:

It has been nearly five years since you had your stroke and since Clint’s illness. I have been reflecting on those events, and I felt led to put these reflections on paper.

Almost five years ago, a few days after his graduation from high school, my son was admitted to the hospital with a massive deep vein thrombosis. After three weeks in the hospital including five days in the ICU and five invasive procedures, Clint finally came home on a Sunday afternoon. The following Tuesday, I spent 10 intense hours in the operating room and came home exhausted at 8 o’clock that evening to find Clint in severe pain with a recurrent thrombosis. Carolyn and I took him to the emergency room where the diagnosis was confirmed and he was readmitted. Our fear and concern and disappointment were countered only by the courage Clint demonstrated that night.

As we returned home, I was worried and depressed. We were within sight of our house when Carolyn and I were surprised to see one of the neighbors flag us down. We were stunned by what he said. He informed us that "Dr. Dobson has had a stroke, and he and Mrs. Dobson are on the way to the hospital in an ambulance, and Mrs. Dobson wants you to be there." Our hearts melted. Stroke! The mere mention of that word portends hopelessness and disaster. The core of a human’s personality, his interaction with the world and loved ones, who that person is and what he does, all can be swept away in a matter of seconds. The road to recovery, if there is recovery, is almost always slow and difficult, with full restoration rarely happening.

All thoughts of fatigue vanished as we turned the car around to rush through the night to what we felt certainly must be evolving disaster. We have both seen strokes. We have seen it in our families, and I have seen it in my patients. It was with good reason that our stomachs knotted and our hearts tightened as we sped toward the hospital. This was our fourth trip to the emergency room in two weeks to be with someone we loved.

Our minds tend to review worst scenario possibilities when confronted with minimal information about an unfolding disaster. Would we arrive to find we had lost our dear friend? Would we find a brilliant mind maimed and irretrievably damaged? Would we confront irreversible paralysis or loss of thought processes that would spell the end of a ministry that has clearly been anointed by God? The dark wings of fear and dread flew through our minds as we fervently prayed that it would not be so. At that moment, God was not making sense to Carolyn or me at all. Little did we know that God was not only making sense, but was in perfect control and He was orchestrating a miracle at the very moment that we were lifting our appeal.

We parked the car and hurried through the sliding doors of the emergency room not knowing what we would find inside. The first nurse I saw directed us to your bedside. As I walked in, I was immensely relieved to see that you were alive, and that you looked up and gave me a brief smile of recognition. There was a slight droop on the right side, but it was a smile, and I knew that you were at least still with us.

Shirley was magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. She looked up as we entered, and what I saw was the perfect blend of wifely concern and love for her husband coupled with courage and decisiveness. She was tender, with occasionally the tear shed for her wounded love, but she was at the same time quick and alert and the perfect advocate. When she touched your face and gave you a kiss, it was obvious that you are the center of her world. Her gentleness and affection spoke volumes of your relationship. But in that gentle lady resides the courage of a lioness. She communicated so well and so clearly with the emergency room personnel and the multiplicity of specialists who were involved in your care. Her quick and decisive action, from start to finish, along with her fervent prayer, was a big part of the miracle that was to occur.

This blend of tenderness, strength and intelligence was obvious to all of us and I can assure you that her actions set a tone that allowed everyone to work at their most effective level. Too much attempted control, too little courage or indecisiveness, can derail a doctor’s best efforts and advice. Shirley didn’t let any of these problems happen. You have a very, very special wife who was a part of the solution, not a part of the problem.

In retrospect, there was so much that went right. You were not traveling in some place where the same medical care would not have been available. Shirley was with you and recognized immediately that there was a problem. You could have been downstairs alone exercising, or you could have been asleep, or you could have been driving a car. So many things could have been different, and all would have been lost. As you know, there is only a three-hour window in which TPA [the clot-busting enzyme] can be used and time was of the essence. TPA was available, and by some "coincidence," you and Shirley had both read about its use.

Shirley called 911 and all moved very quickly. The hospital personnel and physicians all did a wonderful job. The stroke was not a bleed, but a clot that was treatable. The response time from the ambulance attendants to the emergency room personnel to the emergency room physician, the neurologist, the cardiologist, radiologist, and everyone in between, was superb. Assessments were made, the data were collected, and Shirley made the decision to proceed with the use of TPA. [Seven people signed the release authorizing the risky drug, including Shirley, Carolyn and me, the neurologist, the cardiologist and the Londons.] All of this happened in the very narrow three-hour window that is allowed for the use of that medication.

This is a long list of variables. Could all of them have fallen together simply by chance? My answer has to be yes, because it is within the realm of possibility. Do I really believe that all of these occurrences happened simply by chance? The answer to that question is a definite no! The prayer that surrounded you from the first notion that something was wrong to the point of your complete recovery (and through to this very day) defies description. I have seen an appeal from Focus tie up the Capitol switchboard. If all those prayers had gone through the Capitol switchboard, it would have melted it.

When we arrived, H.B. and Beverley were already there, and other prayer warriors soon arrived. I can assure you that you were covered in fervent prayer from the beginning. What we fight is not flesh and blood. We feel the arrows in a physical level, but the real battle is fought on a spiritual plane. Satan took his best shot, an ambush, cunningly directed at the "eloquence center" of the brain, which is the core of your being. When his arrow struck, I know that he tasted victory and roared in glee, but God has used you mightily, and He has more in store for you. God’s grace and power is such that He could bring you back from the grave if it were His will. And it was His will to bring you back. Few people have been allowed to see a miracle unfold before their eyes. Carolyn and I, and all of those around you, were blessed to have been there to witness a miracle occur.

The first few hours after TPA are the critical ones. This "miracle drug" can turn like a savage beast and convert an obstructed artery into a hemorrhage with massive destruction and possible death. The people in the emergency room have seen this happen and they were fully aware of potential consequences. It can turn a moderate stroke into your worst nightmare. Believe me, we all breathed a sigh of relief three hours after the TPA had been administered and it was obvious that you had sustained no serious complications. By this time, you were bedded down in the ICU and things at least seemed to be stable. But we did not as yet know whether there would be any beneficial effect from the TPA.

About 12 hours after the stroke, I dropped in to see you. There was obvious improvement in that you could string together two or three words, where a few hours previously, you could not speak at all. I was delighted with the progress, but what really touched my heart were the first three words that you were able to haltingly speak. I walked into the room, not knowing what to expect. You looked up and smiled and with obvious effort you said, "Roy. . .how’s. . .Clint?" Here is my friend who has suffered a massive stroke, can barely speak, his ministry may well be at an end, his life is in the balance, and the first thing you want to know is how is my son! You didn’t focus on your own personal disaster, but instead, you expressed your concern for Clint and our family. This truly gave me a window into your heart. I was elated to hear you speak, but I was profoundly touched to see the true nature of the man I have always so greatly respected. With tears in my eyes, I filled you in on Clint, and then I talked with you about what was happening with your care. Our visit was brief, but as I left, my spirit was uplifted, and I prayed for continued progress in your recovery.

I did not see you again until about 10:00 p.m. (about 24 hours after the stroke had occurred). I had been with my son on the 10th floor and on the way downstairs, I stopped by the ICU to see how you were doing. I didn’t want to bother you so I was just going to check the chart and talk with the nurse. She said that she had just awakened you to do a neurological evaluation, and she thought it would be good for me to see you. When I walked in, you were alert and you greeted me clearly. Gone was the droop on the right side and the paralysis. The light was back in your eyes and we had the most wonderful conversation that I can remember. You were full of questions about your condition and you had insights to share about what you had felt and experienced as this episode had unfolded. You asked again about Clint, and you prayed for him, and I prayed for you. It was a wonderful conversation, a confirmation of healing. I left so you could rest after about 10 minutes and went back upstairs to my son’s room to share the news with Carolyn and Clint. I had tears in my eyes because I knew that you were back. Praise God for His spectacular deliverance! I realized then that I had been allowed to see a miracle unfold. Jim, words cannot express my joy at seeing your recovery.

Certain events stand out in my mind as I review those days. First, I think of Shirley. Her love for you, her courage and decisiveness, and her faith in prayer were magnificent.

Next, I think of H.B. and Beverley and Dr. Brad Beck and all of the people from Focus, who were there from the start. Their love for you was so obvious and their prayers, so powerful. I was very impressed with the Focus security people. They also were there from the first, and they were courteous and unobtrusive, yet vigilant and absolutely tireless. I know that you and Shirley hate having to have protection, but it is a necessity dictated by the evil of this world, and they not only protected you physically, but their prayers were part of this miracle as well.

I also think of the many medical personnel involved from the emergency room through your neurologist, cardiologist and radiologist as well as the outstanding emergency room, ICU and ward nurses. They were all great, and I admire their excellence.

I also vividly remember the relief I felt when I saw that you were alive and responsive, and further relief that I felt at various stages as the medical scenario unfolded. I also was deeply impressed by the courage that you and your whole family exhibited and by the insight into your soul that I was given when the first words that you spoke to me were to inquire about my son.

I also vividly remember the courage and prayer of my wife as she was there for you and Shirley and for my son and me, all at the same time. Her strength and her warmth were beautiful to experience. My daughter, Caroline, was at the Focus Institute at that time, and her care, support and prayers were also so meaningful and uplifting.

Most of all, I appreciate God’s grace and protection and peace that filled that time which typically would be filled with fear and horror and anxiety. I am so grateful to Him for sustaining us all and for giving you and Clint full recovery. As I look back, I am awed by His presence through the entire ordeal.

God truly had much for you to do since that time and it has been my joy to watch you return as an active and zealous champion for God’s ministry. I wish you and your family, and all of those at Focus, the very best in the years to come. There is still so much to do and so many battles to be fought. I know that you will keep the faith and run the race that is still set before you. I pray renewed strength for you and Shirley as God’s good and faithful servants.

Your friend,

Roy C. Stringfellow, M.D.

I am not embarrassed to tell you that Shirley and I wept last week as we read Dr. Stringfellow’s beautiful account of that miraculous evening, five years ago. Here I am today, healthy and completely unhampered by the illness that once placed everything in jeopardy. The experience has drawn us closer to God and made us realize that we live every day by His grace; none of us is guaranteed even one minute more on this earth. In my case, the Lord was apparently not through with me and heard the prayers of perhaps millions of people on my behalf. One man was painting on a ladder when he heard the news, and came down to pray. A Christian tour group was at Ephesus in Turkey when word reached them, and they stopped to intercede on my behalf. If you were among those who spoke our names in prayer, please accept my deep appreciation for your care and concern in our time of need.

Let me share one final event that I have never revealed. Shortly after being released from the hospital, I still had trouble finding certain words on occasion. The neurologist told me that this minor impairment was temporary and to be expected, lasting 90 days or less. Nevertheless, it was a disconcerting experience for this life-long "talker." It interfered with my prayer life and frustrated me when I tried to commune with God. During our devotions one day, we turned to Psalm 96:1, as I recall, and read this verse: "Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth" (NIV). As everyone knows by now, our generous heavenly Father didn’t see fit to endow me with a beautiful singing voice, but He did give me a certain facility with words. But in June of 1998, they were no longer smooth and articulate. So that day, Shirley and I took a long walk together. We prayed as we strolled along, speaking in halting words about not being able to express my deep love for the Lord in the way that I wanted.

"Lord," I finally asked, "will You return my ‘song’ to me? I want to praise You with my lips and with my voice. Let me express the love from my heart in the measure that I feel it."

Within a few weeks, that prayer too was answered, and no residue of the stroke remains today except the memory of God’s gracious kindness to me. I enjoy enormous energy and capacity for work. I have written and delivered what some people consider to be my best books and videos in the days since the stroke, and I hope that there will be more to come. But, the future remains in His hands.

To those of you who have suffered distressing or even terminal illnesses, I am keenly aware that divine healing of the kind I experienced does not always occur. God is sovereign, and He sometimes says "yes" and sometimes "no." He said "no" emphatically to my dear father who died much too early. Thus, I can’t explain why I was spared the ravages of this neurological disorder while others have suffered terribly. I am so sorry for those of you who are among them. Perhaps the awesome "why" question has been echoing in your mind recently. If you have struggled to understand the puzzling circumstances in your life, maybe you will find solace in my book, When God Doesn’t Make Sense. It represents an imperfect effort to explain some of the imponderables from this mortal existence. It all comes down to this: we are here for a brief moment to serve and worship Him. Then we who are believers in Christ will go to be with Him forever in paradise. Everything else, including our illnesses and trials, are temporary and insignificant in the larger scheme of things. In the meantime, He wants us to trust Him even when we can’t "track" Him.

God’s blessings to you all. Thank you for letting me open my heart to you this month.

James C. Dobson, Ph.D.
Founder and Chairman

P.S. Clint Stringfellow is doing wonderfully well these days. He is "the second miracle" that occurred on the night of June 16, 1998! His parents, Dr. and Mrs. Stringfellow, continue as close friends. We owe them a debt of gratitude that we will never be able to pay.