The Monster (Part VI)

This is the last of a 6-part story. Please see below for the first 5 sections.

Epilogue

I could go on at novel length about what happened, but for the sake of this I'll wrap it up here. I spent 8 more days in the ICU, 7 or 8 days (I think - I can't quite remember exactly) in a post critical care unit, and then about 4 days in an inpatient rehab center. I got to walking with human assistance...then a walker...and before you knew it I was flying around on my walker so much they had to tell me to stop and take a rest now and then. Like everything else in my life, I attacked my rehab instead of waiting for it to come to me. I spoke and spoke and spoke. I got over the embarrassment of slurring everything by taking the attitude if they wanted to hear me talk, they had to put up with the stammering and the incoherence. Interestingly, no one who loved me ever complained at all. It probably took 8 months or so to fully rehab my arm and leg, and of course they're never going to be as strong as they once were...but that's ok. I started to go to outpatient rehab 4 times a week - twice for occupational and physical; twice for speech. I began to reach a point where the rehab was done by me alone, and the wicked witch of the southeast even lent me her zapping machine and a tube of ultrasound jelly so I could personally kill myself with voltage. After a few months my eyes cleared up, and the muscle tissue and structure of my face strengthened and tightened. There is to this day the slightest droop on the right side, but you'd just chalk that up to ugliness and you would never know if it wasn't for this blog.

I had to go through a renaissance of sorts, changing the way I acted, walked, talked, thought, and responded to my surroundings and experiences in life. In short, I had to change the way I behaved. This was a process that took years, and is still on-going now. At times when I'm under stress or tired, you can still hear the slightest of slurs in my speech, something I suppose I notice more than you would. I can tire easily, and I'm on blood thinners for the rest of my life. I visit a hospital every 2-3 weeks to check on the blood thinner levels in my system, and I have days from time to time when my metabolism changes and I feel pretty bad. On those days I'll make a special visit to check my levels, and they'll change them to compensate for whatever might be off.

I have new appreciation for the best things in life...friends, family, and life for the sake of life itself. I know the monster lost the battle, but he hasn't given up on the war. Someday he'll probably fight me for the final time - and he'll win. He's tried to come back twice, once in February of 2001, and once again in December of 2003. Fortunately for me, I was protected enough by the medications to only receive a glancing blow, but they were both reminders that he's out there waiting for me. In each case, I picked myself off the ground, faced the monster again - and told him to kiss my ass.

I went back to work after what was for me a long, long layoff, and my company was kind enough to save my job for me. To them I owe my highest form of loyalty. I made sure I visited the firemen who came that morning, and I bought a box of chocolates for the woman EMT who rode with me in the ambulance. I went back to each hospital and thanked every person, from the head nurse in the ICU to the person who gave me a sponge bath when I couldn't do so for myself. No one was small in importance to me...they all played a pivotal role in my life. If it were freezing rain and 30 degrees out right now, I'd give each and every one of them the coat off of my back for what they did for me those 25 or so days after the monster showed up on my doorstep.

And I'd never ask for the coat back.

Feel free to double click the link below. There are 5 songs...listen to "John J. Blanchard"...you'll know why
http://anthonysmith.com/crankit.cfm?go=1&component=musicplayer-standalone&playList=