
Right around a year ago, right now, I crawled up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I crawled into my bed and laid down, and a short time later I dropped my phone to the ground. To the best of my knowledge, it was about 10:30am. I simply laid there and waited. For what? I wasn’t capable of knowing. Everything after that is blurry and disjointed. My mind was gone. If I had been left there a bit longer, it might have been a wait for my own ending.
I’m grateful to so many people, from close friends to surprisingly close friends who stepped up in those days and since, and have played an amazing role in my recovery. If I am to be honest, in the hellscape of a world we’re in right now, so many of you have restored my faith in people. From the family that sat by me in the ICU, to the friends that visited me in the hospital and at rehab, I could not have done it without you. I love you all, and since I don’t usually get the chance to tell you, let me do it now. Every visit, every text, every message- you were all amazing.
Now here’s the dark side of it- it’s a living hell. For all of the amazing support I received, the reality of this shit is that you suffer mostly alone, no matter what. Every time there’s a set back, or that you realize you’ve lost a bit of your step from being stuck in bed, you deal with it alone. In real time I fought like hell to live, but every kind of dark moment that comes around, you think to yourself whether it was worth it. There’s no manual for this. One day you think you’re a healthy adult. Then you wake up in the ICU and part of your foot is gone. Is it fair? No, it’s not. But life isn’t fair, and I’m the last person that would tell you that you deserve for it to be. When I went into the hospital for the second time back in May, I thought to myself that maybe this is just my fate now. A constant battle for a little bit more. I’ll never quite win it, but I won’t lose it until the game’s over for me. In other words, I’ll never see the victory.
There is a bright side though. What do I fear now? Nothing. I survived the first brush with death. If you want to do something bad to me, top that. You do feel invincible after that. I appreciate a lot of things I didn’t give a shit about before. I notice a lot of things I didn’t before too. I’ll be honest, all I care about is getting up each day and petting my dog. After that I don’t care what else happens.
So here’s about as political as I’ll get- the affordable care act that I worked on for OFA years ago, and St. Luke’s Anderson Campus, saved my life. I have a lot of opinions about President Obama, good and bad, but his signature achievement saved me from ruin a year ago. I’m financially down quite a bit from that day, but it could have been so, so much worse for me. Any attempt to deny people the opportunity to receive care should be treated as an affront to everyone. I’ll leave that there, because there can be no equivocation on that.
And now, the totally non-political part- I have no clue the politics of any of the doctors, nurses, case workers, techs, EMTs, and other folks who took care of me. Unless they looked me up, they didn’t know mine either. They do the work of saints, for people in way worse shape than me. I salute them all.
Sometimes you’re good. Sometimes you’re lucky. Occasionally you’re both. Happy one year to me.






