lol

Slice of what?

Please know that the time in this story is extremely accelerated and it can only give you a glimpse into the extreme gamut of emotions I felt these first few months of an 8 year 90% recovery from my head injury.

It was about 7:15 when hell broke loose on January 10, 1991. I was going to my job as a welder/machinist in Delaware at Sussex Irrigation & Machine Works when it happened.

After dropping mom off at work because dad was sick that day, I decided to take the back way because I was running a little late from taking mom to work. Because I had to do that, I was running late that day which caused me to have to take the back way into work. The roads were narrower and more twisted but shorter than taking the main highway.

In order to take that back though way I had to go across Route 50 to get there which seemed like no big deal, I had done it hundreds of times. But what I never counted on was the low fog that morning with the temperature hovering in the low 30’s. This made the un traveled parts of the road slick with black ice.

What I am going to tell you know is merely a "guesstimation" as to what happened because I can't and never have been able to remember it No matter how hard I try. Our brains have a built in protection device that deletes extremely painful events from our lives, a failsafe if you will.

I stopped at the end of Hebron Road which crossed route 50. When I pulled into the median to cross the westbound traffic's lane black ice took control of my vehicle and caused my soft-top Jeep to slide directly into the path of a westbound van traveling 60 mph. It ripped through the side of my jeep and hit me on the right side of the head with its bumper. I’m grateful there is no memory of that to live with. Score one for the brain.

Blood was everywhere and my Jeep looked like a crushed tin can so I’m told. An emergency crew arrived they pulled me from my blood stained heap of twisted metal that was once my baby and flew me to the hospital. (A side note, I am terrified to ride in a jeep to this day).

When I got there the first thing to do was to stop the bleeding. It must have been pretty bad, I don’t remember the exact number of pints, but I’m thinking I was told 15 to 20.

After the bleeding was stopped I think I was put into the MRI machine right away, there they determined that my left frontal lobe had sustained an incredible blow from my brain being bounced around inside my skull. Bad news though, my brain was starting to swell. I think my chances of survival were lowered at that point to 50/50.

The neurosurgeon’s solution to brain swelling was to implant a screw though my skull in the front top of my head I was moved into intensive care for a few weeks. So my brain could have full attention to healing my banged up machines took care of breathing, keeping my legs mobile to avoid blood clots, and monitoring everything.

The coma must have been good R&R time for my body because the swelling went away after a few days, but I still laid their comatose.

I gave little facial twitches my parents told me in recognition to some of their comments. I have no idea, I was out and don’t remember a thing.

On Valentine's Day I was transported two hours away by ambulance to a rehabilitation hospital called Bryn Mawr in Pennsylvania. There, still in a coma my mother helped get me admitted. One note- my mother quit her job to come stay with me at the rehab. She did it out of an incontestable love for her son, and that is something I can never repay.

Months pass and I have yet to awaken. Finally just after my birthday, when I had relatives visiting, I slowly began to emerge. Things were very cloudy and time had no meaning to me then. I opened my eyes and the only thing that I remember was ceiling tiles and far of voices. I tried to sit up and "the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak" goes the adage. I tried to will myself to talk, that didn't work either. "Where the hell am I," I thought. I tried to make sense of it in my post-comatose state, but it was all made as much sense as a clock in an empty house. Once again everything faded to a dark, yet comfortable, nothingness.
The very next day therapy began. I could not yet get out of bed without help, a special bed at ground level so you didn't roll out with high sides to keep you in. Like a large playpen I guess. Anyhow they woke me at 6 every morning to begin my daily regiment of shots. I got two in my stomach every morning at 7. How I was fed was easy. When I was in my coma, along with giving me a tracheotomy, there was a gastric tube inserted into my tummy. I had to relearn how to eat and until I could feed myself substantially, Ensure was given to me at every meal through my G tube.

This tube also had other uses, you could take medicines with it, which I was given nightly and you could also drink water through it. And after I no longer need it, the tube served as my official "Pimp Chain" until it was removed. This was a place I began re-generating deteriorated muscles by having a two PT's tandem walk me in order to do that. Then a month later I started to do something mom was told I might never do again… talk.

I was getting my PT one morning when it happened. Something happened with the task I was doing and I hit my hand and let out a hoarse and raspy sounding, "****." Both my therapist looked at me excitedly and ask me what I had said. I meekly said, "Shoot?"

Needless to say my therapists jumped around for joy like they had witnessed a child take their first step. Essentially that simile is true. That grunted cuss word was for me the first step to a very long recovery. Then as about 10 minutes passed, my mother, who had been by my side all these months, the one who talked to me like I wasn't in a coma everyday, and the woman who had heard the terrible predictions about my recovery from professionals, walked into the room to be greeted by her smiling son of 21, with the simple raspy words of, "I love you mom." She stopped dead in her tracks, dropped her purse and cup, looked at the smiling therapists then back to me, and ran over and gave me a hug that was tight enough to feel to this day, all the while chanting- "I knew you'd come back……..I just knew they were wrong!" But even though that was a pivotal  moment in my recovery, I had a long way to go.

This whole accident was confusing; it was like I had been asleep for three whole months and awoke in a different world draped in white linens and fluorescent lighting. For nearly two months I was in a part dream part conscience state, never really quite sure as to whether or not to accept this new predicament for truth or a dream. When I was bathed, it was on a table with two or three nurses present and to this day, I still am still leery as to accept some of what was going on as a reality or a dream.

One thing I knew for sure though, no matter how many tricks my mind tried to play on me by trying to make me accept a different reality. If this was a reality, then I was more scared that I had ever been in my life.

This was part one of my story and I really am not up to writing anymore about it tonight. Memories can be painful, and believe me, trying to remember something that your mind has tried to block from you because it’s too awful to remember is not an easy thing to write about.

Three times tonight in these first few pages I have had tears well up into my eyes and run down my cheeks. Memories are just difficult period, of any bad time.

What would be your first official act?

A goldfish has a memory span of about 3 seconds. I bet most are male huh?

Thank you, but my grieving period is officially over. One can be pushed away only so many times.

dude, make your own thread stop treading on mine.....sheesh

thank you very much

The hours, they seem to,
Lethargically drag on.
I still see you everywhere,
Even though your gone.

What of all the plans we made,
To move to travel, to make a family?
I weep as I think about,
How your future is not with me.

At first I was confused as to,
Why you would do this to me?
Them I stopped an thought,
Yes we've had a slightly tainted history.

But we had many good times together,
Like the cabin, lake and first time we met.
You were as beautiful as an angel,
How can I just forget?

I love you and only you,
Any other is at best a friend,
I'd would do most anything for another chance.
A chance to be with you again

Sorry bro' I gotta work tonite at midnight

I am the same asshole online as off according to a recent poll

Whichever one you feel is right bro'. Personally I'm an Atheist

Dildo..........I mean Ditto

I did it one, not it sets Lily, just to see my max

At first I thought I could change for someone else, my ex namely. But later I decided it wasn't worth it because I wasn't into it. So when I looked at myself in the full length mirror naked yesterday and decided that I looked horrible, I knew right then and there this metamorphosis 'O Pec could work because I wanted it.

Monday I even am getting medicine from the Dr. to finally quit smoking as well. Look out world, here comes a new, improved Pec!

(on a side note, thanks Patsfan for giving me hope and Angel for giving me courage)

yeah today was more or less getting reacquainted with the machines.....didn't push hard.

Yeah I may be short but built like a steamroller, how do yo think I got the name Pec?

well there are no showers there, and no workout machines for women omly a few treadmills no ellipticals, if you want to build mass you go here. I am just looking to trim up. almost 40 not much more mass left. just trying to keep what I have

lol.....

Be about a month b4 I get into it good again, I have let myself go.