Thank you, Drew

Since I came to Putnam County 10 months ago, I've heard the name Drew Christy a lot.

When I first came to the Banner, I would read archived stories to try to get a handle on what had been going on before I got here. I read about Drew's Feb. 22, 2008 car accident. I read about how much the community loved him and his family and about the fundraisers.

I knew Drew had sustained a traumatic brain injury and might never fully recover.

When the anniversary of Drew's accident rolled around, my general manager suggested I do an update story on Drew. So I set up the appointment with Drew's mother Debbi and made plans to go meet Drew.

I sat with Drew and Debbi for close to two hours one evening. Mark Wildman, the man who had coached Drew in football during high school, and Mark's wife June were also there, helping Drew with strengthening and stretching exercises.

Although Drew can't speak, he could definitely communicate. He doesn't have his voice yet, but he uses what he does have ... his eyebrows, his hands, his eyes.

He gets his point across.

As I listened to Debbi and the Wildmans talk about the amazing things Drew had done, I would look back to Drew. And even though he is not the same person he was on the outside, I could just tell he was still that person on the inside.

Before his accident, Drew was going places. He was intelligent, athletically gifted and from all accounts, a just plain nice kid. He was polite and handsome.

He had the world by the tail.

In a split second, all that was taken away from him. He hit a patch of black ice and it was all gone.

As his mother and the Wildmans kept putting Drew through his paces -- standing while holding on to a pole, standing up straight with his back to the wall and bending his knees, stretching his legs -- I waited for Drew to get cranky. I waited for him to refuse to do what was asked of him.

He never did.

If anyone had a right to be angry, I thought to myself, it was Drew Christy. But he isn't angry. Not in the least.

In fact, he seems very at peace.

Eyes really are the windows to the soul, and Drew's told me quite a story. When he made eye contact with me, it held. It was as if he was telling me, "Hey, there's a lot going on in here. I can't tell you about it yet, but I want to. Give me some time."

As I left, Drew grasped my hand. I held his smooth hand in both of mine and looked into his eyes.

"See you later, Drew," I said. "I'll come back and see you again, OK?"

Drew gave me a wink ... the sign for "yes." He smiled at me.

I have a good feeling that the next time I go out to interview Drew, he's going to be able to talk to me.

I left the Christy house that night inspired and grateful for what I have. I don't know that I could be as gracious and patient as Drew has been. Being with him for those two hours changed my life, and I thank him for it.

The odds of making a full recovery from the type of brain injury Drew sustained are slim. But I looked into those blue eyes and I know if anyone can make a miracle happen, it's Drew Christy.