My Story

It all came crashing down

The year was 2017 and I had things going my way.

• I was 38 years old
• Married to my beautiful wife with 3 kids
• Finishing my first year in CrossFit
• Training to run an obstacle course race
• Running our own business

We weren’t financially wealthy but life was pretty good and I was only improving my health and mind as time passed by.

And then my kids got sick with the flu. I’ll never forget holding my boys as they were literally red with heat, dabbing their foreheads and chests with cold wash cloths trying to lower their temperature.

It was a nightmare and we threw caution to the wind to make sure our little ones were taken care of.

And then my parents got sick with the flu. My brother and sister were a little scared to be around them so I helped take care of them as well. Picking my father up out of the floor. Bringing my mother medicine and making sure they had plenty of hydration.

It was a terrible back and forth. A nightmare from both ends of the spectrum, elderly vs youth, and I was right in the middle of it.

And then I got sick with the flu.

Holidays and Gurgling Lungs

It was Christmas morning when I first felt sick. But I could power through for Christmas for my kids.

It was New Year’s Day when I couldn’t lay down without hearing gurgling in my lungs.

And it was January 2nd when I finally said to my pretty little wife “You’re going to have to take me to the hospital.” I had never been to a hospital (for myself) and was surprised when they wanted to admit me. In fact, I nearly walked out in fear the stay would cost too much.

But they convinced me that it was important enough for me to stay so they kept me overnight. My wife went home to take care of the kiddos.

A Farewell To Wife and Life

By morning, my fever was out of control. They called my wife back to the hospital as my temperature reached 105 and I could no longer make decisions.

As they used every tool they could to help me breathe, my panicking was getting the best of me. They gave me a round of Ativan to calm me down.

Lucky me, I’m one of the few that it does the opposite to.

So panicky and shaky that I couldn’t even hold a cup of water, I looked to my nurse and said “You have to knock me out. Put me to sleep and take care of this.”

She tried to explain to me that that was a last resort and that I would go onto a ventilator but I was beyond reasoning. I looked to my wife and said “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”

3 or 30? What’s The Difference?

They explained to me that I would be asleep for 3 days if they knocked me out so that my lungs could recover. I agreed and then my mind went blank. No more memories from that point on.

They put me to sleep to take control of everything. The next thing I know, I’m waking up to discover I’d been in a coma for 24 days on a life support called ECMO.

Want to know what can happen to you while you’re lying in a pool of your own blood for 24 days?

• Sores to the bone on both heels
• I lost the use of my left leg from the knee down. Couldn’t even lift my foot.
• My right leg doubled in size and turned black
• I had a urinary catheter
• I had a rectal catheter that split me wide open
• Bed sores on my lower back that left scars
• My heart had been damaged by the ECMO insertion
• My lungs were scarred and only working at 50%
• I was mostly paralyzed
• I lost 65 lbs of muscle and was too weak to lift a spoon
• My throat stopped working and I couldn’t swallow
• I was being fed through a tube in my nose, later a tube going right through my stomach.
• My mind was a confused mess after a month on Fentanyl. Nightmarish hallucinations had me wishing I had died.

Was There A Light In My Tunnel?

I was in the hospital for 52 long and terrible days. I had to learn how to eat again. I had to learn how to walk again. I had to learn what was real and what was a hallucination (nearly a year long process).

During this time, I cannot begin to tell you how many times I heard the word “never”.

• You’ll never use that left leg again
• Your lungs will never heal past 50%
• You may never be able to swallow again
• Your heart will never recover and you may need a pace maker

“Just give up” seemed to be sewn into my mind at every turn. But then there was my wife… my sweet, incredibly tough little wife who had refused to let them pull the plug. Who stood her ground for 24 days saying “My husband will NOT die” every time the doctors told her it was over.

My wife… the one who kept a distance from her own family as well as mine because they were all preparing for my death.

They were all asking her the hard questions about my funeral, what she was going to do, what they should tell the children.

She fended them off, kept to her faith and laid her hands on my chest every day, commanding oxygen to enter my lungs and to pass through my body to where it was needed.

24 days of war for my sweet Felicia before she gained the right to gloat. But she remained humble and only showed the nurses and doctors gratitude for the help they provided.

The Beginning

And this, ladies and gentleman, is where my story began. Or at least where it started over

Around our house, we have a different type of era. Rather than saying BC or AD, we sometimes say things like “That was 3 years BG”. It means (Before Grandview, the hospital I spent 52 days in and died 3 times in.)

I want you to know that there wasn’t a single part of my life that didn’t change. Not a single relationship that wasn’t affected.

• I lost friends in those days
• I Hated my old hobbies and past times
• I Hated myself for my weakness
• I Wanted to die so that my wife could be free of me
• I avoided company and friends because I was ashamed of what I’d become
• My own children were sometimes scared of the shell of their father that I’d been reduced to
• I wanted to die so badly that I considered bringing about my own end, not for myself but because I was so tired of being a burden on everyone around me.

I had hit rock bottom. When my wife bathed me, fed me and wiped my butt after helping me to the toilet, I knew there was no further to sink. I could either end it all and have instant, selfish relief at the expense of everyone who loved me… or I could hit bottom and bounce back up…

And when I say “bounce back up” I mean bounce so hight that it’s been 7 years and I’m still gaining altitude.

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Thanks for reading and welcome to the blog. If you’d like to know more about my story, I’ve written a book going through great detail about what I went through, my pains and hallucinations and my recovery up to a certain extent. You can check it out here or you can click the button below.