Grant's Story - By Ann Perry

I very clearly remember waking up on June 3, 1998. It struck me that this was going to be an awesome day! I don’t ever recall waking up with this kind of feeling before. I wake up each day assuming that it will be a great day and I’ll roll along with whatever life deals me. This day, however, would prove to be different. Awesome does not always describe great.

I went about my usual morning routine. The kids were off to school and I had just finished  my first cup of tea when the phone rang. My mother had called to tell me that my brother Grant had been rushed to the hospital. She told me that his wife Rosemary had relayed to her that he had tremendous pain in his shoulder that was simply uncontrollable. I told Mom not to worry. I had just spoken to Grant the night before and his doctor had suggested that he may have a torn rotator in his shoulder. He had been digging a hole in his yard for a hot tub and had just over done it. She still seemed skeptical but was relieved to hear I had spoken to him as of late. I was concerned but not alarmed.

The phone rang in my Halifax home an hour later. It was Mom again and this time she was in tears. She told me that Grant’s liver and kidneys had shut down and it was far more serious than we had imagined. The news riveted through my body and left me numb all over. I just cried, “oh, my God” over and over and over again. I told Mom I’d fly home that night to Toronto to be with them.

As I packed my bags to fly home my heart was shattering into pieces. I grabbed the basics and tossed them into a bag. What about the  funeral? What would I wear to that? Stop it! My mind was racing so much faster than I could cope with the thoughts.  I dropped to my knees and prayed with everything I had that God would save my brother…but from what? What shoulder injury would leave his body in full renal failure?! What were the doctors not telling us? I called the Sunnybrook Science Center and asked to speak  with his attending physician. I could not believe the compassion  that Dr. Forrest showed me on the phone.  He took the time to speak with me, however, he was also uncertain of Grant’s condition. He was paged to Grant’s side and I would not speak to him again until I arrived in Toronto.

My best friend Allison met me at the airport and without hesitation we were off  to the hospital. I walked in to find my family paralyzed with fear. We were quickly taken to the consult room which I soon named the “dark room”. You never get good news from the “dark room”.

The head nurse looked very grim as she told us of Grant’s condition. She called it necrotizing faciitis. Necrotizing what?  She reduced  it to a term we all understood. Flesh eating disease! I attempted to remain calm and unfathomed by this news. I was crumbling inside as I was processing the thought.. She said that he had a 10% chance of  surviving this. His condition was very  unstable and he was in the trauma unit recovering from a massive debridement Dr. Forrest had done earlier on in the day. I steeled myself while Rosemary took me in to see him.

The trauma unit was a series of several beds in a darkened area. At the end of this unit was a bed under full lights and confusion. It was surrounded by  a relay team of several nurses and doctors who appeared to be working frantically. I couldn’t imagine who might need all of this attention so late at night. As I neared the bed I soon realized that it was Grant’s bed. It was like watching a fine tuned orchestra in motion. Once again I buried my fear from sight and approached him without hesitation. Norma was in control of his care and she readily invited me  to be with him as long as  I needed to.

Grant was swollen to three times his regular size. His eyes were bulging out and there was little definition between his neck and his head. I was told he was on a drug to paralyze him so that he would not waste any precious energy needed to beat this disease. I held his hand and continued to talk to him throughout the night. He felt like plastic and we watched as his fingers and toes turned black from the lack of circulation. Pumps beeped, dialysis machines hummed and nurses changed bag after bag of IV fluids. All the while I continued to tell him that I knew something good would come from all of this. I didn’t know what, but something good would definitely come from all of this. We just had to be patient. I told the nurses that they clearly did not know who they were dealing with. I told them that Grant was a fighter and that if anyone could beat this, he would. All the while I wondered how this horrible bacteria could have entered into such a tiny scratch on his arm and left him so battered and bruised.

After a week I regretfully flew home to Halifax. I cried as the plane taxied down the runway. How could I leave him in  still such critical circumstances? I was convinced  that  he knew I was there even  though he lay there in a deep coma day after day. 

Two weeks later Rosemary called me in the wee hours of the morning. She was on her cell phone and was frantically  racing to the hospital. The doctor had called her and told her to get to the hospital as soon as possible.Grant’s vitals were crashing. He  was not going to make it. I talked her all the way into the elevator. She called me later to say that he had stabilized. Thank God. Then two hours later she called again. This time she said that the doctor had called once again. She said that Grant  had suffered with only 30% oxygen to his brain for over 20 minutes. They were sure he was brain damaged.  She was told not to attempt to make it to the hospital as he would be gone in 5-30 minutes.  They said he would have a massive heart attack and it would be all over. Please make the funeral arrangements.

Rosemary and I agreed that considering his brain was damaged and his kidneys would be on indefinite dialysis, this would be the better alternative for Grant. It was certain that even if he survived he would lose his fingers and toes to amputation and that he would have to be on a transplant list for his kidneys.  He would never cope being physically or mentally compromised. We agreed not to resuscitate him. After all, we were acting in his best interest. Or were we? Was it his pain we wanted to end or was it ours? He was incapable of feeling anything at this point. But nothing could measure the immense pain we were experiencing.

I told Rosemary that I would call Mom and Dad. I would be the one to tell them that their son was soon to die. I would also call our older brother Ross and let him know the inevitable outcome of the day.  These were the hardest calls I would ever have to make but they were not one’s I felt Rosemary should have to make.

Meanwhile, my brother Ross and his family were in church praying for Grant’s recovery. A couple approached Ross and introduced themselves as the parents of a young boy who  had died just 10 days before of necrotizing faciitis.  Diana and Martin had never met Ross, nor had they ever been to their church before. Diana promised to go home and pray for Grant’s life.

After a half an hour passed I began to grieve Grant’s death.  I sat motionless out on my deck and I looked deep into the passing clouds.  Where was he right now? Was he watching over me? I pondered over heaven and wondered if they were really ready for him or not! I waited for my husband David to come home from an overnight camping trip with our son Leslie. I told him the news as soon as he came in. He denied it and said it couldn’t be. I kept hearing myself say to him, “it’s over!”. Those words echoed from my lips each time I said them. I was on the outside looking in. It was almost like an out of body experience. I went all day believing that he was dead only to receive a phone call later that day to say he was still alive! My emotions had been stretched further than a rubber band could. How could the doctors play with our emotions like this? I stood in the shower as the steam filled the air and I yelled to my God in heaven. “What are you doing?! Make up your mind! If you’re going to take him then take him! But if you’re going to let him stay then make him better but whatever you do…make up your mind!” I was so angry with God. What kind of a God would allow Grant to suffer like this and at the same time play such wicked games with our emotions?

The following day Grant remained in extremely critical condition. I could barely function. I called a friend of mine who gave me the number to a prayer group in the United States. She told me that anyone who had ever called it received such great results. I quickly hung up and called the number. A very kind gentleman prayed for God’s will in Grant’s care. I held Grant’s picture close to my heart as I finally fell to sleep.

When I woke up I literally jumped out of bed. I knew that some divine intervention had happened in Grant’s life.  Somehow I just knew he would be OK. It was an unbelievable calm that had come to erase my raw emotions. Even though all the odds were against him, I was certain his life was in good hands.  It was not until several months later would I realize that an angel had come to tell me of Grant’s fate.

Grant surpassed unbelievable odds as the months ticked by. He was on full life support for over two months. He would recover from one infection only to be quickly followed by another. The doctors were running out of available antibiotics. His body had declared germ warfare. His white blood cells were raging out of control. He eventually started to gain some strength and positive signs of improvement only to be followed by heart failure! This was the one organ we were not worried about! As the nurses struggled to keep his heart working, he went into a brain seizure which carried on for four minutes. Once again the family was left with little hope. I on the other hand knew something they didn’t! After all, an angel told me so!

The head neurologist said that Grant’s MRI was the worst he had ever read in the hospital. His brain was totally damaged and was not expected to recover. Within 24 hours Grant was sitting up asking very intelligent questions! Once again they scratched their heads! What is it with this guy?! 

Early September, Grant was released from the hospital and sent home walking with a cane! He has been declared a miracle at the Sunnybrook Science Center ! The doctors have agreed that it was indeed divine intervention that saved Grant Drummond.

While my family was enduring this awful drama I retired night after night to the internet. There I would find comfort from people who had survived this awful disease. I vowed that if my brother were allowed to live, that I would volunteer my time on the National Necrotizing Faciitis Foundation site. I lived up to my vow and continued to scan the site each day for people who might be going through the early stages of this frightening disease. Not one person would go through this alone if I could do something about it!  It was there that I saw a posting from Diana Cahill. I was sure she was the same person my brother Ross had met in church weeks before.  I took a chance and wrote to her. I introduced myself as just a caring person who had been aware of her son Matthews death. I told her how sorry I was for her loss but that I wanted her to know that an angel had visited me and told me that my brother would be OK. I was trying to assure her that her son Matt is likely an angel up in heaven looking down on her right now.

Diana wrote to me the next day and confirmed that she in fact was the person my brother had met. She told me that she had gone home and prayed to Matt to go and find Grant in his spiritual travels. She prayed that Matt would encourage Grant to turn back and to fight for his life. She was determined to see Matt save at least one life from the hideous disease that had taken his young life of seventeen years.  As I read her letter my heart opened up and I cried uncontrollably. I knew at that moment that it had been Diana’s son Matthew who had visited me as an angel. How emotional it was for me to accept that a young boy had died and that he would be so instrumental in letting my brother of forty three years live! Was that really how God’s plan worked? But wait. I needed to know exactly when Diana had said her prayers. When did she contact Matthew and pray for his involvement with Grant?

It took several hours before I could compose myself enough to write to Diana again. I cautiously asked her if she remembered when she had met Ross at church and what date was it that she prayed to Matt to help us. I was certain I knew the answers to these questions  but I had to ask none the less. Diana confirmed the date as being June 23, 1998. This was exactly the time of my angel encounter. Over whelmed does not begin to describe the feelings I had of our discovery. Not only did I know the name and identity of my angel, I had also come face to face with his mother. Make no mistake about it. This is all by design. This is all part of the plan. All  part of God’s seemingly awkward but none the less perfect plan.

My encounter with Diana has established a relationship with a stranger that will stand the test of time. We are connected by a bond so tight that nothing could break it . While it is only held together by faith we both know that it wasn’t a coincidence that we met. We understand that coincidences purely do not exist. There is a reason for everything. It is all part of the plan. When I told Grant that something very good would come from this, little did I know that the good would come to me.

* I'd like to thank Karen Forrest for publishing "Grant's Story" in her first book called

Angels in the Maritimes By Your Side     ISBN 978-1-895900-99-6 

Please be sure to pick up a copy of this inspiring book at any Chapters store!