Last March, my doctors informed me that I was terminally ill. They told me that at my rate of decline I have at most only a couple of months left. When they told me, I wasn't really surprised, but if you know anything at all about me, you'll know that I didn't accept their prognosis. Instead, I decided to put my faith, hope and confindence in the Lord and not in any doctors.The decision to keep on keeping on and continue writing is what I'm going to do as long as I am able.I sent out a letter to you and just in case you don't remember what I said, this is it.
Of most of my sixty six years, I have been a Christian. Thankfully, I was born of Godly parents and grew up having the church as part of my life. During those years, I was involved with the church in different ways; as a member of the choir, Sunday School teacher, and serving for a brief time on the Board of Stewards of a small Methodist Church as its chairman. Having the mistaken belief that it wasn't by God's Grace that got you into Heaven, rather it was by works that you had to earn yourself into that God had to prepared for us.
Without reservation, I confess that during those sixty six years, I have not lived the Christian life the way it is intended. Along through my journey through life, I discovered things about myself which happen to be true with every man. As a human being, it turns out that there are three of us; the physical body, the one we have now that grows old, sick, and finally dies. The spirit; that part of us that lives forever, and the soul, which consists of the mind, will, and emotions. There's also three lives to every man; his public life, on the job, in the public arena. The second one is his private life; when he is at home with his family, mowing the grass, and relaxing while watching the NFL on TV. Then there is man's secret life; you know, the one he lives when he's alone, out of town on a business trip, or involved in something he shouldn't. I learned about these nuggets of knowledge later than most men because I was slow maturing into a real man, busy doing my own thing. Aside from making a lot of bad choices and mistakes along the way, I lived my life at times with reckless abandon. If you believe in personality types; Type A or Type B, I was definitely Type A, and had the attitude that I was born to have a good time. To me, the line in the Declaration of Independence, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness should have read pursuit of a good time. Even though, I was technically Born Again, I did not have the renewing of the mind which is supposed to come with it. I did have a renewing of the mind; it didn't last. I still had the rebellion of backslider. Self gratification was my daily goal. Any time I would see something that appeared to be fun, I had to try it out. For example, I was covering a Georgia Bulldog football game in Athens as part of my job as a photographer for WSB Sports and witnessed the launching of a hot air balloon outside of Sanford Stadium on the UGA campus. It didn't take long for me to find a some balloonists and do a story on them, getting some free balloon rides. I invited my brother along and almost got him killed when he was in another balloon and it struck a radio tower in Lawrenceville.
Without reservation, I confess that during those sixty six years, I have not lived the Christian life the way it is intended. Along through my journey through life, I discovered things about myself which happen to be true with every man. As a human being, it turns out that there are three of us; the physical body, the one we have now that grows old, sick, and finally dies. The spirit; that part of us that lives forever, and the soul, which consists of the mind, will, and emotions. There's also three lives to every man; his public life, on the job, in the public arena. The second one is his private life; when he is at home with his family, mowing the grass, and relaxing while watching the NFL on TV. Then there is man's secret life; you know, the one he lives when he's alone, out of town on a business trip, or involved in something he shouldn't. I learned about these nuggets of knowledge later than most men because I was slow maturing into a real man, busy doing my own thing. Aside from making a lot of bad choices and mistakes along the way, I lived my life at times with reckless abandon. If you believe in personality types; Type A or Type B, I was definitely Type A, and had the attitude that I was born to have a good time. To me, the line in the Declaration of Independence, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness should have read pursuit of a good time. Even though, I was technically Born Again, I did not have the renewing of the mind which is supposed to come with it. I did have a renewing of the mind; it didn't last. I still had the rebellion of backslider. Self gratification was my daily goal. Any time I would see something that appeared to be fun, I had to try it out. For example, I was covering a Georgia Bulldog football game in Athens as part of my job as a photographer for WSB Sports and witnessed the launching of a hot air balloon outside of Sanford Stadium on the UGA campus. It didn't take long for me to find a some balloonists and do a story on them, getting some free balloon rides. I invited my brother along and almost got him killed when he was in another balloon and it struck a radio tower in Lawrenceville.
In the late fifties, I was at the opening ceremonies of Hartsfield International Airport. WSBTV was doing a live remote. Only eleven or twelve, I remember seeing television engineers manning the large bulky black and white cameras as the ceremonies were being broadcast live. That experience is relative to this story in that I envisioned myself as one of those cameramen on top of the remote truck because it made one look important and it looked like fun. I can't recall how many times I have done that in my career as a TV news man. What was once a fun job became extremely stressful and caused two heart attacks, with complete arrest.
On November 15, 1989, became the day when I became to know Jesus up close and personally. A thunderstorm system moved through the state of Alabama leaving wide swaths of destruction in the wake of numerous tornadoes that had touched down. More than twenty people were killed in Anniston when an apartment complex was splintered by one of the many twisters. That same storm system was heading up Interstate 85 toward Atlanta. I was sent down to wait on the chaotic weather to arrive. I didn't have to wait long. Having just filled my tank in my five ton live truck, the type that has a telescoping, retractable forty foot mast, I was waiting in a Gulf service station with the double side doors open, sitting in the captain's chair at the video edit station and live microwave console with my camera sitting on my knees, taping hail stones as they struck the black asphalt pavement. It quickly became a lightning storm unlike anything I had ever seen before. I heard a buzzing and cracking sound as it began to rain hard and lightning in every direction. I looked through the wind shield as the wipers went back and forth, and that's when I saw the ominous, very menacing funnel cloud only about a hundred yards away, back lit by lightning coming from every direction. Stunned by witnessing an empty service station vanish in front of my eyes. I had a decision to make, and really I didn't know what to do. Putting my camera down, and climbing into the driver's seat would take up what time I had in an attempt to save the truck. That's when the inner voice spoke to me, loud and clear, "get out of the truck!" I did just that, and taking my camera with me, I ran inside the Gulf station and warned everyone to get down, a tornado was upon us. I took refuge behind a Coke machine which was sucked out into the parking lot leaving me
exposed again. I grabbed hold of a newspaper dispenser box and held on for dear life. I saw my five ton Ford van picked up and then disappeared from my sight. The entire event took less than a minute. The van had been tossed over 400 feet.This part was documented on video by myself as I approached the crumpled van. I was completely overwhelmed by what I saw; the most frightening few moments in my life, realizing if I hadn't heeded the voice that told me to get out of the truck, I would have certainly been killed. You can hear me on the video sobbing, because I knew that it was the Lord who saved me from certain death. That was the first time I got up close and personal with the Lord.
Exactly four months later, I had my first heart attack. Even though I was in reach of a nurse at Henry Medical Center, it took doctors and emergency personnel over forty five minutes to resuscitate me. Defibrillators were used numerous times, and it took over three years for the circular burn marks to go away. I remember flat lining and at that precise moment, as I was looking at the nurse, she hit me so hard in the chest with her fist, she broke my sternum. I lost consciousness within a second and the scene in front of me collapsed into a round dot, like the old tube TV sets did when you turned them off. It seemed as though I was being drawn into that circle of light which turned into a tunnel. The next thing I remember was that I was looking into a bright light and the I saw the blurry silhouettes of the doctors working feverishly over me. The same inner voice that spoke to me in the live truck said, I am the resurrection and the life. Any man who believes in me, though he dies, yet he shall live. Jesus spoke these words just before he raised Lazarus from the dead.
The night before that heart attack, I was at a funeral home where the father of my best friend was lying in state for viewing. I mentioned to him that I had been having chest pains and thought that I would have a heart attack very soon and probably would not survive. Resigning to the fact that both my grandfathers had died prematurely, one was forty six and the other was fifty; I had pretty much thrown in the towel. I survived my first heart attack, and it was a good thing for I was not in the least prepared. I was saved, but that was about it. No will, no living will, no plans for anything for my family; not having filled out my 1989 IRS tax return, leaving it in a mess for them to figure out.
Six years later, while working on a story at Atlanta City Hall, I told Sally Sears, a reporter that I was having chest pains and that I needed to get to the hospital emergency room. The WSBTV assignment desk was alerted and the fine people at Georgia Baptist Hospital were waiting on me. On my way there, I began praying in tongues. My own cardiologist was notified and he came as quickly as he could. Meanwhile, Sally Sears and my immediate supervisor and friend, Janice Elder were kneeling by my gurney praying for me. Even though I was only half conscious, what I saw them do was simply overwhelming. I think I knew then that I would survive again. When my cardiologist spoke to me, he said that he didn't think that there would be anything he could do for me. I refused to accept that report, and continued to speak in tongues. I later found out that I was praying in Latin, a language I had never learned. For the next few hours, the waiting room at Georgia Baptist was filled with WSB people, so many that the hospital treated me as a v.i.p. and assigned a press liaison, George Ivey, to me who kept everybody updated on my condition.
The next four days were very critical for me; barely clinging onto life. The reports that my wife, family and friends were getting from the doctors were not in the least encouraging. I had undergone open heart surgery, and had been placed on a LVad machine, a heart pump, that no one had ever lived more that four days while attached to it. I was on it for almost a week. The call for prayer went out and there must have been thousands praying for me. I was placed into an induced coma where I was for fifteen days. During that time, I had a visitation from the Lord, not knowing if it were a dream, a vision, or an over active imagination fueled by drugs that had hallucinogenic side effects. It appeared more like stage production, with a beginning, middle, and an ending. I did not recall the visitation in chronological order, but rather piecemeal after I had come out of the coma. Being a video editor, I took the scene and edited it in my mind while conscious. The doctors told me that it was the drugs that caused the dream.
In the dream, I was naked, standing with bare feet in a dark, damp place. I could only see an faint outline of my surroundings which I immediately thought of as like the place of outer darkness as our Lord made reference. Then I saw a naked man, standing and somehow realized I was looking at myself. I was in deep despair because I thought that I was dead and would spend the rest of eternity there. Suddenly, I saw light coming from afar. I was approached by two orbs of light, one glowed reddish, and the other green. They were angels, large in size with wings that disappeared upon landing, wielding large swords. I immediately thought of the angel that banished Adam and Even out of the Garden of Eden once they partook of the tree of knowledge. My heart sank because I felt they were there to tell me that I would not be admitted into Heaven. As I felt at my lowest, another orb appeared, a golden one, with a bright white light coming from it. I could see the silhouette of a man holding a staff. He raised his free hand and I could see light coming through the hole in his wrist. Falling to my knees, I knew immediately it was the Lord. I could not look at the super bright image, and I covered my face in shame within my hands. I felt so ashamed; sobbing, as broken and contrite a person could be.
The Lord spoke to me, Dan, Dan, Dan, what am I to do with you? The Lord spoke to me like a father admonishing his son. He said that I was a double minded man and that I had to chose which I was going to be. A double minded man is unstable in all his ways, just as Judas Iscariot was. Judas loved to hear the pretty words of the Master, but did little in following any of His teachings. The Lord told me that I would live and not die, that he had something for me to do. He warned me about starting any kind of ministry, but to wait on Him and when I was ready, He would reveal what it is I am to do. Looking back, I feel the Lord wanted me to write which is what I'm doing now. Suddenly, the Lord and His two accompanying angels were gone.
It wasn't until I was taken off life support that I would begin to turn around.When I came out of the coma, I sat up on the edge of the bed in my room at St. Joseph's in Atlanta. I could see myself in the mirror. I saw a different person in the mirror. Somehow, miraculously, my countenance had returned.
The next three weeks were amazing. I was sent down to South Fulton Hospital in East Point where I would undergo rehab. It was discovered that the back side of my heart was dead, but miraculously, I was getting better. I was visited by doctors from Georgia Baptist because they were curious as to what they did to make me better. Ha! It turns out they were over medicating me. It was during the third week of my stay at South Fulton that they sent me home. I didn't do well at home, so I was readmitted to South Fulton. My personal cardiologist, Dr. Joseph DeJunco told me that if I didn't receive a heart transplant within six months, I would be dead. He revised the prognosis a few days later saying that if I didn't get a transplant within the next three months, I would be dead. A few days later, he revised my prognosis again saying that if I didn't receive a heart as soon as possible, I wasn't going to make it. I was contacted by Dr. Randy Martin, who was the Action News physician and told him of my situation. He got me into the Emory Heart Transplant program. That's all fine and dandy except it is a long and involved process and there is a waiting list as well as certain criteria one has to meet; such as blood and tissue types. I was getting weaker all the time, and I wasn't holding my breath; speaking figuratively, waiting to get all the details finalized .
Physically, I was at the point of being wheel chair confined, towing a canister of oxygen behind me. One Sunday morning, I wheeled into my church. My pastor was talking to a visiting evangelist from England. Suddenly, the visiting preacher, his name was Gordon White, turned and looked at me, and said, "God just told me to tell you that He's going to give you a new heart.' Under my breath, I muttered, "yeah, right." I had never seen this man in my life. The bottom line is here, in just forty one days, I had my new heart. The heart transplant itself was not the miracle; keeping me alive long enough to receive the transplant was the result of many miracles and the answer to a lot of prayers that people were praying for me. Going into one is a story in itself and for the sake of brevity, I'll skip the details.
The heart I received was that of a seventeen year old boy killed in a traffic accident. His heart was thirty six years younger than my body. I have had that heart going on fourteen years. It has been a good heart, and through much of that time, I have lived a high quality life, working at my job as a photojournalist; without a single organ rejection issue. Back in 1996 when I got the transplant, my cardiologist told me that the heart was only going to last an average of fifteen years. However, he expected the artificial heart would be a reality and I would not need another transplant. The artificial heart is still years away, so I'm frankly in the Hands of God because I am too old to qualify for another transplant.
For the last three years, my health has been in decline, starting with a dry cough which would not go away even with five rounds of antibiotics. Now, and as recent as eight weeks ago, my weight ballooned upwards to nearly three hundred pounds. My heart was getting weaker by the day. I was requiring the use of bottled oxygen more and more. With the combination of a weak heart and the huge weight gain, I had trouble walking, climbing stairs and breathing. I could barely fit in a wheel chair.
The diuretics that I had been taking were not working the way they are supposed to work.Eight weeks ago, when I was released from Emory, my doctors told me to go home and get my affairs in order, inform my family and friends, and prepare myself for the inevitable. I've done that. I have spent a great deal of time in prayer and continued to believe in healing, and I'm expecting nothing less than another miracle. I was released into home hospice care.
This is something that I must confess. It wasn't until recently that I actually overcame the fear of dying, It appeared that all the scriptures regarding healing were not getting results. I thought I was doing everything necessary; reciting and meditating on the healing scriptures and it wasn't working. As I continued to decline, I wondered if I had actually exceeded my limit on miracles. My faith started to buckle and my confidence in the Lord as my healer was being tested. I became afraid and more afraid as my doubts started to have an effect on me and my general disposition to those around me.
My good friend, David Mussell, the 82 year old patriarch of our church came to my house and gave me counseling. He had had a very difficult life and had to out of necessity depend on the Lord throughout most of his adult life. He related some of his own experiences which were much, much more than I've had to endure. He told me of the time when he had no job, he was on the verge of having his home auctioned off on the Fulton County Courthouse steps, and he had seven mouths to feed. He was at the end of his rope and his situation looked hopeless. He went to the Lord in prayer, pouring himself out to the Lord, saying that he could no longer fight the battle and the Lord would have to fight the battle for him. It was only then Pastor David turned his situation and his life over to the Lord that things began to turn around. The Lord saw him through. With that lessonI, too, have placed myself into His Hands. My complete trust and faith is in the One who has never lost a battle. My complete confidence is in Him.
In the last four weeks, things started to change. I am no longer wheelchair bound. The edema that I had in legs and feet has almost completely gone away. My body has eliminated over seventy pounds of water and I find it easier, to breathe without oxygen and to walk and go up and down stairs. I feel better overall, and I don't think about dying anymore. More imortant is my attitude. I pray a lot, no longer praying for myself, but for you and others who are suffering and are in need. I pray for this country and I spend quite a bit of time in private praise and worship. The way I look at this whole experience is that it was just God finding a way of showing what He can do; He just keeps on adding to my testimony.
Today, I consider myself healed. All my symptoms of congestive heart failure are gone. I feel the best I have felt in several years. However, more important now than ever before is that I finally have real peace and joy in my life. I am no longer afraid of dying because I rest in the Lord, and it is He who decides when it is time for me to move on. A miracle? You decide.
Those that wait upon the Lord will gain new strength. They shall mount up on the wings of eagles. They shall run and not be weary and walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31
He was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities, He took the chastisment of our peace upon Himself, and by His stripes, we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5
Dan Casey
