Tara Evans had a stroke on March 11, 2024. Throughout her ordeal, God put exactly the right people in line to help her.Editor’s Note: Several months ago, we told you the story of Tara Evans of Pearl, who had a terrifying stroke on an airplane bound for North Carolina. To have a life-threatening medical emergency in a tin can thousands of feet above the Earth’s surface was not something Tara was prepared for, but thankfully, God was.
The struggle didn’t end there, by a long shot. Tara has been journaling through her process, and we are honored to publish some of her reflections and stories of survival with us here at Darkhorse Press.
By Tara Evans
I am exhausted, and it only took me fourteen months to realize I need rest.
Let’s rewind the clock to March 16, 2024: Bryan and Terence took turns driving me from Baltimore, Maryland, back home to Mississippi. I was determined to get started with my therapy.
So, with Bryan’s help, Terence got me into the shower. That is where I stayed for the next few hours. I still remember how glorious the warm water felt running over my head and down my back: I loved the feeling. Bryan sat outside the shower and waited patiently. As I slowly washed my hair, Bryan offered to help me. I was determined to regain my independence. It took me a little more than three hours to shower and dress myself that day, and Bryan never left my side. Fourteen months later, we are still pushing ourselves, and sometimes we have forgotten to permit ourselves to rest.
So we decided to take some time to do exactly that: Rest.
Alexander and I had a wonderful week preparing for NCLEX (National Council Licensing Exam) and shopping for a new fishing rod, and on Friday, Alexander finally found the rod he wanted. He made his purchase and started to prepare for Samuel and Bryan to get home. He wanted to spend time with his little brother and the man he looked up to. The excitement soon snowballed the moment Samuel bulldozed through the door and saw Alexander with his new fishing rod.
Baby Samuel grew up fishing with his Pops in Florence, Mississippi. That’s where he learned how to fish and brag about finding the honeyhole: he was raised to think he was the best at everything. Samuel was mostly excited about getting to fish with Bryan, who he has listed in his phone as “Best Dad Ever.” The boys scattered around the house, excited, and got everything together. All we were waiting for was Bryan.
As soon as Bryan arrived home, I could tell he was drained. The boys presented the Friday night agenda and headed toward the pond. Bryan was a little reluctant. His alarm rings at 7:10 am, and there are days when he is still working after midnight. I knew he was tired. He pushes himself for his family. In all fairness, on March 11, 2024, he inherited the weight of the world: all my bills and being my caregiver. All he wanted to do was sit on the couch and relax, but the boys wanted his time. Try explaining that to a mentally exhausted man.
Once we got to the pond, the boys had everything in place. Alexander had his new Yeti cooler sitting next to the chairs. Bryan specially ordered the Yeti in Ole Miss colors for his birthday. Baby Samuel was off to the side, talking a little smack to get Bryan’s attention. We talked, and I got excited when I saw a turtle in the water. Alexander tussled with his new fishing line while Samuel continued to run his mouth and draw closer and closer to Bryan. It was a perfect evening. The weather was cool and breezy.
It was quiet and peaceful. As I sat and watched our little family and soaked in the moment, I realized a few things. The boys craved time with Bryan. Time is priceless and something you can never give back. I’m not sure Bryan has fully embraced how much giving his time meant to Alexander and Samuel. Hearing the boys talk about spending time with Bryan started feeding my soul.
As we spent time as a family at the pond, we talked about how we used to go fishing at Roosevelt State Park. I took the boys there with my parents when they were growing up. I would bait their hook with worms, but taking the fish off the hook is an entirely different story. Fishing has always been so peaceful to me. Since having my strokes, I discovered that I prefer a quiet, simple life. I found peace Friday night with my family as we spent time fishing.
I heard God in the gentle wind: it took my breath away. Thank You, Jesus.
I am a 48-year-old stroke survivor. My stroke impacted my entire family. Sleep, communication, and prayer help keep me centered and clear. My brain is still healing.
It’s time for us all to heal. We need more time at the pond. Most importantly: Time is free.
Bryan, thank you for hanging in there, for being such a strong man and standing by me. I love you.
To my readers, thank you for your kind words. Your encouragement came at the perfect time. To other survivors, keep pushing yourself and don’t ever let anyone discourage you. You will have good and bad days. Ask for help if you need it. Cry when you need to cry and don’t be ashamed. There is not enough focus on the emotional aspect during stroke recovery. Remember…YOU ARE A CHAMPION – National Stroke Awareness
Month! Sending love to all!
To Therese Apel, the one who gave me this outlet…Thank you will never be enough. I know you don’t like the spotlight, but give me this moment. My brain doesn’t work the way it did before March 11, 2024, but that didn’t stop you from giving me this opportunity without judgment. I wasn’t even a writer; that was supposed to be funny. Thank you, Therese. You are an angel on earth.
