Dad’s Survival

“I’m positive God performed a miracle.”

Melissa Minns was just a child when, with her father, she was involved in a horrific accident—5000 kilometres from care.

Early-morning drizzle was falling in the darkness as, with my father, we travelled east along the Highlands Highway, from Goroka to Lae, Papua New Guinea. I fell asleep across the seat, with my head in my father’s lap.

Our family of five had been in Goroka, where my father was registrar of a large high school, for just a week. We decided to all go to Lae, where Dad would pick up a new car. Some went by car, but Dad took me and my five-year-old brother, Brenton, in the truck. A relief driver and two students reclined on the tray.

I hardly seemed to have fallen asleep when suddenly I was jolted awake by a sudden lurching of the truck. In what seemed like slow motion, I felt the truck rise then tip on its side in the deep gutter alongside the road. Inside the cab, we were tumbled around like in a washing machine. Then I don’t remember much.

The truck righted itself and didn’t suffer too much damage, however, it was a different story for Dad. In the toppling, the people in the cab landed on my father’s head. This, and his contact with the road through the open window, resulted in massive head injuries. He was in a critical condition. As for myself, a pocket on my jumper had caught on the gearstick and although I hit my head on the dashboard and suffered a gash and fractured skull, I remained inside and safe. Brenton suffered minor cuts and abrasions.

In the predawn darkness, we tried to flag down a semitrailer but the driver, no doubt afraid of a hijack set-up, didn’t stop. The students and driver prayed and then a utility came around the bend and stopped.

Dad was soon on his way to Goroka Hospital. His injuries were such that he was given only a 50 per cent chance of surviving. Mum was told to prepare herself for his death.

Immediately Dad went into the theatre, returning some time later, unconscious, and he stayed that way for some days. Then it was my turn for theatre, but I had to wait for a man who had had an arrow shot through his eye. Dad remained in Goroka Hospital until the next day then, although still unconscious, he was flown to Port Moresby to connect with a flight to Sydney.

But then one after the other, problems began to present themselves: How to obtain a visa in the absence of an official; stretcher restraints were missing (someone made new ones); Sydney airport was under curfew (permission was needed to land after midnight). Minor miracles followed as each one was dealt with.

Back in Goroka we waited a few days, wondering how he was getting on before we too headed for Sydney. Descending into Sydney, our plane hit a storm. At one point our plane suddenly dropped almost 100 metres. People screamed; I was disoriented and frightened.

Mum was thinking, Had we come through this and all this way just to die? We were glad to step onto wet but solid ground.

The first time I saw Dad (he was in the Sydney Adventist Hospital), I didn’t recognise him. Nerve damage had caused the left side of his face to drop, and he seemed to have aged considerably.

He endured two operations to repair his head injuries followed by seven weeks in hospital and six months in rehab. He could work only part time for six months following that.

Thankfully, he’s much recovered and working, although the legacy of that night remain—with 50 per cent hearing in his left ear, he’s blind in his left eye and has no feeling in his right hand—everpresent reminders of how close we came to losing him.

It was a traumatic experience for our family, made worse by the remoteness of PNG. My brother experienced nightmares for years and we children were confused because we didn’t understand what was going on. Mum said she experienced bitterness for awhile, angry with God.

One day a chaplain whose husband had been killed in Samoa visited my Dad. She commented that bad things do happen to good people, but that doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love the hurting. Rather, He gives strength to go on. The joy on the chaplain’s face made an impression, something Mum says that stuck in her mind, giving her hope.

I’m positive that God performed a miracle on the terrible day of the accident, because my father is still here to talk about it today. To me, God is a shelter in our storm of troubles, He’s a Father we really can lean on when we can’t handle things by ourselves. I believe He makes the impossible possible!

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