Terry Lane Chesnutt's Page

I wrote this piece as a personal experience for a writing class
GOD’S PERFECT TIMING
1965
The phone rang as we stepped out the door going to Sunday School.
Eager to be gone, I picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“This is Tom. Terry fell in the cabin here at camp. He cut his head, but the doctor said it would heal. He’s in a coma or something. The doctor’s taking him to the hospital.”
I gasped and yelled for Dad. No details, just our son was injured. Automatically we called the church and asked them to pray. Waiting to hear more, I thought about the previous two weeks.
Our sons, Tom and Randy, planned to go to Christian Service Brigade Camp in Unicoi State Park in Georgia as counselors. Terry, our youngest son, wanted to go with them. The older boys would attend the pre-camp meetings and Terry have a few free days before he became a camper. The previous week, Terry didn’t feel well and for a few days ran a low-grade fever. I called the doctor.
He said, “It’s probably just a virus. If he’s better, let him go.”
Terry improved and said he felt fine. On Sunday morning, the three boys left Orlando, Florida for north Georgia. Tom was 19, Randy 16 and Terry 14 years old. They had looked forward to the trip and could hardly wait to leave.
A week later we received the phone call.

We waited and prayed. Gut instinct told us something serious had happened to
Terry, but we had no idea what. Between Sunday School and church, the pastor’s wife called to see if we had heard anything. A click on the phone and an operator interrupted us. “You have an emergency call.”
“This is Dr. Stewart, the camp doctor. I’m in the hospital in Gainesville, GA
with Terry. He has Encephalitis. We’re going to take him to the hospital in Atlanta. He’s in a coma and has a lot of swelling in the brain. If he makes it, brain surgery will be performed immediately to relieve the pressure.”
The jolt and trauma of that news took my breath away. I couldn’t comprehend that we sent a healthy boy to camp and a week later, he wasn’t expected to live. We wanted to know more. We wanted details. We wanted assurance. We didn’t have it. Dad and I had to face the fact that our son would probably die. The one assurance we had: the Lord was with us, no matter what.
Decisions had to be made. At first, both Dad and I planned to fly to Atlanta.
Then we considered Pam. We had many friends who would care for her, but if her brother died, wouldn’t she need a parent, not a friend, to comfort her? Terry would not know who was with him—if he were alive.
What about a burial plot and a funeral? We hated to discuss them, but
had to.
I flew to Atlanta. Dad stayed with Pam. Our family was scattered over
600 miles. Tom and Randy at Unicoi, Dad and Pam in Orlando and Terry and I in Atlanta. I had always had the emotional support of my husband and his wonderful stability. I still had it, but many miles physically removed it from me.
When I arrived at the Henrietta Eggleston Children’s Hospital in Atlanta, I was not prepared for Terry’s appearance. Although in a coma, his eyes never closed; they were open and rolling. He lay on his back, rigid toes pointed toward his head, and hands in the position of a Cerebral Palsy victim. His clenched jaw didn’t move, even when he gurgled. With that sound, the nurses pushed a tube down his throat. He was trying to vomit. Since he couldn’t open his mouth, they suctioned his stomach so he wouldn’t choke. The brain injury caused bleeding ulcers. His temperature soared to 105 degrees.
What could I do to help this child of mine? Prayer was the only answer.


Much later, we learned the details of his time in camp. Several days after the boys arrived, Terry complained to the doctor he felt tired. Dr. Stewart couldn’t find anything wrong, so decided Terry must be homesick. Later, among Terry’s things we found a letter he had started to us. He mentioned several times he felt tired. When he began to run a low-grade fever, the doctor thought, “I’ll send Terry home when the men from Orlando bring the other boys. I don’t know what I’d do with a sick kid at camp.” The doctor told me, “I sure found out what I would do!”
The men from Orlando arrived. Terry was in the cabin getting his stuff together when he had a seizure, fell and hit his head on a metal bed—the wound Tom told us about. Terry immediately went into the coma. Randy tried to grab his brother. In the process, Randy got his thumb in Terry’s mouth. Every part of his body immediately went rigid. The only way Randy retrieved his thumb was to literally pull and scrape it out between Terry’s clamped teeth.
If Terry had gotten in the station wagon headed home, the men would probably have thought he was asleep. They certainly wouldn’t have had medical help. As it was, the men put Terry in a vehicle to take him to the hospital. A Park Ranger had stopped by the camp and offered assistance. “Follow me.” He knew the curvy, mountainous roads and led them to Gainesville in record time.


I looked at my precious child and my stomach twisted in knots. I was scared. He was barely alive. I constantly prayed for him. Then, calming words came to me. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee; because he trusteth in Thee.” Isaiah 26:3 KJV. Where did that come from? I realized the Holy Spirit brought to mind the words I had hid in my heart.
When I kept my mind on God, my Strength, I did well. When I didn’t, I became panicky. God was true to His word.
Six different specialists checked on Terry. Nurses worked on him around the clock. A private duty nurse came that first night. She was told, “Don’t expect him to live through the night.”
With the fever raging, he lay on an ice bed, nurses sponged him and the air conditioner blew on him. The doctor said, “If he starts to shiver inject a tranquilizer. When he shivers he generates more heat.”
The doctor told me, “IF he lives, he will be a vegetable for the rest of his life.”
Terry had accepted Christ as his Savior and I knew if he died, he would be with the Lord. I was torn so many ways, but I prayed, “Lord, if it be your will, I pray Terry will live and be okay. But, if not, please take him home with you where he won’t have to suffer.”
In my spirit, I knew the Lord didn’t want me to give him stipulations. He wanted me to pray for His Will—without any qualifications or strings attached. I thought of all kinds of scenarios of the future. It was frightening. The verse from II Corinthians 12:9 KJV came to my mind. “My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”
After much soul searching, I finally, prayed for the Lord’s will, no matter what. I had peace, only if I continually kept my mind and my heart on Him. Just watching Terry so still except for his open, rolling eyes with no comprehension, his body stiff and deformed, and his raging fever broke my heart.
I thought someone in a coma awakened suddenly out of it. Not true in our situation. After several days and still in a coma, Terry’s eyes closed. One night about 1 AM, he opened his eyes and for a second had a flicker of awareness. The nurse turned to me, “Did you see that?”
I didn’t, but we watched him and those fleeting times repeated themselves until they lengthened. Then he responded to stimulus and my voice. Gradually, his muscles relaxed—his jaws the last to loosen.
He was not on medication—no drug to help Herpes Encephalitis. As he came out of the coma, he hallucinated because of the brain damage. Some of the things were scary. Some were funny. To watch him frightened me.
One night he fought in the Civil War on the front line with Lee. Although restrained, Terry had unbelievable strength. He pulled up in bed and dodged bullets in the midst of the battle. His eyes focused on nothing. Vivid and real to him. Unseen and unreal to me.
Dad arrived on the weekend, and Terry enthusiastically told him about a game the Atlanta Braves had just won with a play in the ninth inning. Terry recited all the details of the game.
Dad said, “Did you hear it on the radio?”
“No! It’s just over and the people are leaving the stadium right there. Don’t you see them?”
The doctor told us, “Don’t go along with what he sees. He must learn reality. Tell him it isn’t real.”
One day the doctor and nurse stood at Terry’s bedside. He yelled, “Look out! There’s a man with a knife behind you.”
“No, no one is there,” the doctor said.
“Well, you just didn’t look soon enough!”
Terry became very perturbed with us because he saw all kinds of money around the door facing and we wouldn’t get it. Thankfully, he does not remember most of the hallucinations.
As he improved, we had to change our thinking. Our 14-year old son had the emotional awareness of a 5 year old. On a very strict ulcer diet, he didn’t like the food or how often he had to eat. He certainly didn’t like all the milk he was supposed to drink. When Dad came, he begged and coaxed Terry to eat and drink milk.
“Remember the pain in your stomach? You don’t want to have it again do you?”
Terry nodded.
“Well, to stop it, you have to eat.” After all the persuasion, Dad put food on the spoon, and raised it to Terry’s mouth. Terry clamped his lips, turned his head and refused to eat. He couldn’t reason.
Interestingly, Terry remembered when Randy had surgery eight years before, he received money for the glasses of liquid he drank. Terry asked if he could have money, too. Ah! A glimmer of light and the solution to our problem. We made a deal with Terry that for each three bites of food, he would get money. He began to eat.
We experienced a miracle in Terry’s recovery. To the amazement of the medical staff, we went home in ten days. He wasn’t well, but he was alive and improving.

We thanked the Lord for many things during our stay in the hospital.
It was an excellent hospital and the staff cared about the patients and the family. Several of the nurses did extra things—kindnesses never forgotten.
The Neurologist told us, “We are having a seminar tomorrow, and I’d like permission to take Terry before the other doctors. Very few patients survive Encephalitis and the devastation of the disease when it’s so severe.”
Dad and I agreed. One of the nurses got off at 11 PM, went to a store and bought Terry pajamas, and brought them back before she went home. She didn’t want him to go before the doctors in his hospital gown. Thoughtful. They removed Terry’s clothes in Gainesville. No one thought he would ever need them again.
When we went to the auditorium filled with specialists, the doctor asked Terry, “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Sir. You’re an insurance man.”
“I have been called a lot of things,” the doctor laughed, “But, I think that is the worst.”
One time in the room when the doctor asked Terry questions to see how he responded, I answered for him. The doctor told Terry, “Your mother is a nice lady, but I want you to answer, not her.” I got the point.
A verse I had to take by faith was, “Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.” Hebrews 12: 11 KJV.
Through that time period, it didn’t seem as if anything good could come from the heartache and suffering. But, it did. We experienced many blessings. Some of them we didn’t realize at the time.
I thought I’d be alone in Atlanta. The Lord brought many people to see me: friends from home had a son graduating from Emory, Dr. Stewart’s wife, several friends of my parents, the pastor of my mother-in-law’s church, —all found us at the hospital. Dad’s Uncle Hugh and Aunt Adele chauffeured us back and forth to the airport and I stayed with them when Dad came.
One of my most frustrating experiences was with the Chaplain of the hospital. He and his aide both talked to me several times. They were not saved, and tried to subtly undermine my faith. That discouraged me. How sad they had no hope to offer those who suffered; but they battered my faith.
This miracle had a spiritual impact on us, the campers at Unicoi, and the people at our home church. In fact, through the years several speakers used it as an illustration to show the power of God.
Weeks later, at home, all the pieces of the puzzle came together. Usually, we have to take God’s timing by faith, but we saw, step by step how the Lord orchestrated everything.
Our doctor in Orlando said, “I’m so glad he was in Atlanta. They did more for him than we could here.”
The only time the camp had a doctor in residence was that week, otherwise, a nurse took care of medical matters. When Terry went into the coma, Dr. Stewart called ahead to Gainesville to get a doctor to meet him at the hospital. Because it was Sunday, he tried three names before he contacted one. This particular doctor had just finished some training at Emory, and he knew the Neurologist reputed to be the best. He became our physician at Henrietta Eggleston.
The Park Ranger ordinarily didn’t go to the camp. But, that day he was there and led them to Gainesville.
The drug that caused the swelling in Terry’s brain to recede was one that most hospitals did not have in stock. Even though the Gainesville hospital was small, it was there. I wonder what circumstances happened that the hospital had it, waiting for Terry.
The ambulance, wasn’t high enough to give the IV, so both doctors rode to Atlanta, putting the drug in by syringe. When Terry heard he rode in an ambulance, he said, “Did they use the siren?” I understand they made that trip in record time.
One of the great concerns was his high temperature. They tried and tried to lower it, but it didn’t budge. The doctors eventually decided to try an experimental drug Emory had been researching. One of the side effects—it lowered body temperature. Gradually, his fever came down.
Just before we left the hospital, the doctor from Gainesville came to see Terry, who was walking. The doctor shook his head in awe and said, “I just can’t believe it! Even when Encephalitis is so mild it’s hard to diagnose, there are usually many handicaps. I did not expect Terry to be alive, much less walking!”


It took months for recovery and since Terry remembered very little of his time in camp and in the hospital, he did not believe he had been as ill as we said. It upset him he couldn’t take his hydroplane he had built out on the lake by himself. We did not let him go on a Survival Camping trip before school began—he sure couldn’t understand that.
Just before we left the hospital, Terry picked up a pencil and looked at me with a perplexed expression. He said, “I don’t remember how to write.” The doctors told us Terry would have to relearn everything, but to start him in the accelerated classes he had been in to see how he would progress.
He returned to school in the fall in the accelerated ones, but not as many. One positive thing for Terry—we did not criticize his grades. He thought that was neat.
Through the years, neurological exams showed his toes curl the wrong way when the bottom of his foot is stroked (what difference did that make?). Terry always felt tired and heat bothered him, but the doctor said those were scars from the disease. Terry learned to handle the latter two problems well.

Terry graduated from Auburn as a Building Construction Engineer and was the supervisor or field rep for the architects in the building of the RSA Tower in Montgomery. He is extremely talented with his hands; he designs and builds beautiful pieces of furniture and wooden canoes that are a work of art.
This is the child the doctors said would be a vegetable for the rest of his life.
TO GOD BE THE GLORY!

Betty Chesnutt
July 2001



Terry always had a lot of determination; sometimes it turned into stubbornness. He had a temper, but the Lord helped him to control it. He was always loving, even when he was mischievous. He was an enjoyable challenge.

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My mother wrote this piece above. I have been very lucky because I have very little problems from the encephalitis as many survivors have. I hope this may help some that read this.