Justin Taylor:
Last November—November 26, 2009, the morning of Thanksgiving to be exact—Matt Chandler’s life changed forever.
Here’s how the Associated Press profile described it:
Thanksgiving morning, a normal morning at the Chandler home.
The coffee brews itself. Matt wakes up, pours himself a cup, black and strong like always, and sits on the couch. He feeds 6-month-old Norah from a bottle. Burps her. Puts her in her bouncy seat.
The next thing Chandler knows, he is lying in a hospital bed.
What Chandler does not remember is that he suffered a seizure and collapsed in front of the fireplace, rattling the pokers. He does not remember biting through his tongue.
He does not remember his wife, Lauren, shielding the kids as he shook on the floor. Or, later, ripping the IV out of his arm and punching a medic in the face.
During the ambulance ride, Lauren, 29, looks back from the passenger seat at her husband in restraints.
He is looking at her but through her.
The doctors discovered a mass on the frontal lobe of his brain and planned for surgery.
A week later, a few days prior to his surgery (December 4), Matt recorded this message:
