Alcohol and shock absorbers.

As the months went by after my illness, I found that beer REALLY tasted good. I was on meds for depression, due to the survivors guilt but I found that I felt better when I drank. I remember going to my friend Al's house in Frankfort in pain from the still regenerating nerves, and leaving feeling great. In between I usually drank around 16 beers. He eventually moved back to Charlevoix, and we had a place to party called "The Back Shop" It was a garage/workshop that was behind his mother's house. I hung out there with several friends every night, drinking and shooting the bull. It was simply a concrete oasis from the stresses of everyday life. We would play Quake 2, and other games on the computers during the afternoon, and drink all night.

The shop consisted of a couple of benches, 2 couches 2 chairs, a CD player, a TV various other things. The main attraction was the wood burning stove. Whoever manufactured this stove was a genius. Wood? Sure we burned it. Cardboard, yeah it burned. Electric can opener? Yeah, it burned too.

Yeah. An electric can opener.

We would burn it all. We didn't care what it was. If it put off heat, we burned it. There could be a raging blizzard outside, and we would always be warm. Now, we drank. ALOT back there. Our drinks of choice were Icehouse Beer, Ice Hole Schnapps, 99 Bananas and Aftershock. Of course, we would mix it up but we never had anything go to waste.

We would push the limits of that poor stove. On several occasions, that shop should have exploded from the intense heat that stove put off. Shock absorber? Sure! It was funny when it expanded denting the side of the stove. We always prided ourselves on not killing that damned thing.

One night, we decided to put a motorcycle tire in there. We of course were beyond drunk, but it was so cold and snowy, we just wanted to crank it up.

So in it went.

Within 2 minutes a raging fire was cranked up. Then it got stronger.....and stronger....and STRONGER. The heat was almost too intense. Then the stove started to bulge. The roar from the flames were intense. We went outside only to look up and see fire jetting from the pipe like a rocket booster. We of course thought this was funny, until we came to a realization that the place could easily explode. We ran into the shop and grabbed a shovel. We scooped snow from outside directly onto the stove. Oh man was it insane. Steam filled the shop like a sauna as we dumped pile after pile of snow over the now glowing stove. Finally, after about 15 minutes we had it "under control". Truth is I think we just accepted the fact that we could not control what happened, and sat back and drank. It had to be 90 in the shop.  The stove survived. The shop survived and we survived. For several years after, I drank alot. It started taking it's toll but I kept drinking. I had always had a VERY hard time accepting that I had lived.

One morning I woke up, and thought I was going to die. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and I didn't think I was going to live. My body had finally had enough, and it was saying "Enough is enough."

I stopped drinking that day. I sat back and looked at my life, and decided I was NOT going to waste the gift that I was given after I almost croaked.

All of this time I had no idea that my GBS still had one final surprise left for me. I had been slowly killing myself with alcohol because of a health issue that was lurking in my heart, and it was about to make it's presence known.

Tune in tomorrow and see if I live to eat nachos!

To Advance the State of the Art of Spamming. -by Lore Sjöberg

Todays blog is borrowed content. Unforseen circumstance has forced me to not be able to update my blog. But have no fear, it will return tomorrow! Until then, enjoy this article from the old Brunchinfg Shuttlecocks!

If you're like me, and you are, you've been very disappointed by recent spamming efforts. The genre has gone completely stale. There haven't been any major advances in spamming since "Subject: Re: The Information You Requested." Get your act together, evil marketing slugs! There have got to be plenty of avenues open to convince me that I want to buy whatver worthless product you're hawking.

Here are some ideas to get you started.

 

Subject: You're Old Enough Now

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Subject: This week's class assignment:

 

Hello, students. I, your professor, have an addition to this week's homework. Please check out http://fatsacksofmoney.com and prepare a three-to-five page paper on the socioeconomic effects of this program which is completely legal and guaranteed to bring in up to $50,000 or more in the first month, with no more investment than it would take to buy lunch at a fast food restaurant.

 

Subject: Damn spammers:

 

I don't know about you, friend, but I'm tired of stupid spam from scam artists who wouldn't know an interstate commerce law if it snapped them with a damp towel. Why don't they pass a law locking those semi-human morons in a dank cell somewhere and make them eat bread and water and whatever parts of the rat are left when "Tiny" is done with it? I mean, it'd be different if they offered something of use, like the unsecured credit card you can get -- guaranteed -- at http://credit4people.com, no matter how bad your credit is!

 

Subject: I love your site!

 

Hi. My name is Lyssa and me and my girlfriends are huge fans of your Web site. In fact, we've decided to show our appreciation by taking our clothes off and posing maked, just for you, at http://hotfansofyoursite.com. I'm sure you'll love us as much as we love you. Only $19.95 a month!

A stinky ride, and autographed basketballs.

Well, in my travels I have encountered several high profile individuals. Some good, some bad, some stinky. I once road an elevator with Ted Nugent in Grand Rapids. He was in town for an interview, and I happened to be in the same building for whatever reason. He greeted me, and I said how much I admire him. Real nice guy.

About 20 seconds in to the ride, he just let one rip. I could actually see the air moving as the smell got closer. And it hit me. A primal stench that should have killed me. I wanted to move, but I was frozen like a deer in his cross hairs. I think he knew that I was suffering, and he laughed. 'Call of the wild!" was all he said. The doors opened, and he got off. I swear the smell hung on my clothes all day. About a year later I met him again, and he actually remembered me. He shook my hand and laughed. 3 years later I got for a Christmas gift a framed autograph from him. I still have it to this day. As I said, a helluva nice guy.

In 1988 my friend Dave and I were driving from Charlevoix to Traverse City. we stopped in Torch Lake to get something to drink. I went in and got a couple of sodas. there were some groceries on the checkout lane, so I waited. A guy walked up and said that I could go ahead of him because he still had some more things to get. She rung me up, and I realized I left me wallet in Dave's Blazer. Before I had a chance to go outside, the guy said, "Don't worry about it. I'll cover you." I looked up the guy to thank him, and I was shocked to be face to face with Bob Seger. I had to step back. "You're Bob Seger!" I said. He just smiled and laughed. He had the girl put the sodas on his charge, and I thanked him, and I shook his hand. I told him how much I admired his music, and what an influence he had on me. I went out and told Dave what happened, and of course he didn't believe me. That is until Bob walked out and got into his big-ass Chevy and drove off. he was and still is one of the nicest guys I have ever met.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fe7yOccqdxI


Later on over the years he would stop in to my parents grocery store. He was a man who liked his privacy. People would start making a big deal about him being there shopping, and when this happened, he would just leave his cart full of groceries in the aisle, and leave.

Tim Allen once used the bathroom at my parents grocery store. He didn't flush.

We used to get alot of former Detroit Tigers that came into my parents store. Micky Stanley, Bill Freehan, Dave Rozema and several others. Mike Illitch would always come in and buy steaks. His wife was all business, but he was a great guy. Always thanked the baggers for taking his groceries to his SUV. I met Al Kaline when I was about 7. He was at Meijer in Grand Rapids for a promotional thing. My father was the store manager, so he introduced me to Mr. Kaline. One of THE nicest men ever to play the game, and to speak with.

Jim Abbott the former MLB pitcher shopped in the store all of the time He had a home near Harbor Springs, and was very active in local charities. He is a picture of kindness the way he treats everyone. It was to the point that everyone just called him by his first name, because that was the way he wanted it to be.

Bill Laimbeer. Wow, this was a fun one. I was working part time at a Rite Aid in Petoskey once when he came in. He was BAD ATTITUDE from the second he walked in the door. He picked up some things and a children's thermometer. Came to the checkout and didn't say ONE word. Just threw the money at me. A lady and her 8 year old son came in while I was ringing him up, and the little boy knew right away who he was and stood there looking at him. Bill finished the transaction, and still had not said one word. He walked past the little boy, and left the store. The child went to the window and looked out at him......just stared. You can tell he wanted to ask him something, but was too afraid. 5 minutes later, Bill walked back in to the store, and handed that lucky little boy an autographed basketball. Bill may be a asshole in many peoples eyes, but he made sure that kid had a smile on his face, and a day he won't forget.

There were about 10 others or so I had met over the years. I worked in radio for a long time, and rock starts came and went. Jon Bon Jovi and Ritchie Sambora once drank a beer with me. Jon was a jerk, but Ritchie was a great guy. Maybe he was having a bad day because I know that Jon is really a nice person.

The best encounter ever was at Tiger Stadium. Patrick Mackay, Mary Kerschner and my self went to Tigers Stadium in 1990. We walked out through the tunnel, and there he was. The legend Ernie Harwell. There was a crowd around him, and I just HAD to wait to shake his hand. When it was my turn, he looked me in the eyes, and introduced himself. I shook his hand and told him what a pleasure and an honor to meet him. he laughed and said, "The pleasure is all mine, son." He autographed my program, patted me on the shoulder. I thanked him, and he thanked me right back.

I cried the day he passed. Just that one chance encounter, and I felt like I had known him for years. He was always the voice I heard on the radio growing up, and his passing was a blow to everything I was when I was a child. never was I so sad, and yet happy that he had been a part of my life growing up. Telling me how "Willie Horton stood there like a house on the side of the road!" whenever he struck out.

Well, that's all for today. Tomorrow I'll tell you about how I broke my leg in 2 places, and my mom didn't believe me! Even with bone jutting from my leg! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

And then what?

I have so many stories I can share with you, my followers and friends. Some happy. Some sad. Some illegal. I would like to share one other tragic story with you. I know......sorry. But it's another event in my life that I rarely speak of, and it effected me terribly for a long time. It KIND of ties in to the GBS story, even though it happened several years earlier when I lived in Coloma and was working at WIRX radio.

Benton Harbor. Around fall of 1994 (my mind isn't what it used to be....lol) I was at work. I think I was doing some production work, or we had a meeting. It was getting to be around 6:30pm and I was getting ready to head home. Driving through town was always a blast at this time. Rush hour traffic SUCKED! It was kind of cloudy and dark. I had a headlight out, but I was still very aware of my surroundings because of how people drove down Napier Avenue. I came to the light at Pipestone and Napier and traffic was lining up. This was the section of road coming up that was BAD. poorly lit, and 5 lanes wide including a turn lane, that that then suddenly cuts into 2 lanes that crossed over the highway. Then throw 2 ramps into the mix, and it was a dangerous recipe.

The light turns green, and we all roar off towards the overpass. I back off a little expecting traffic to start splitting up. i then see a car swerve to the right, almost clipping another car, I look back ahead and see what looks like a dark piece of cardboard rolling in the road. I slow down quickly and realize that it is a man, and he was trapped in the middle of the road. The van that I saw swerve had hit him, and pulled off.

Now, traffic was BAD! People flying through at around 50mph. I crammed on my brakes, and tried to stop in front of him, but the traffic behind me was coming up on me fast. I had no choice but to pull off behind the van.

I open my door, and before I had a foot on the ground, the lady that had hit him was in my face hysterical. "I never saw him.....I never saw him!!!!!" I told her to shut up, because we had to get him out of the road. I ran to the edge of the lane he was in. You could tell he had a badly broken leg, and could not get up. He would try, and fall. he tried to crawl, but was not able to. I ran across the first lane, and into the second lane. I was almost there. he was looking at me, and I went to reach for his outstretched hand, yelling that he was going to be ok. He looked in my eyes, and I into his. I went to say "Reach out and I'll drag you to the shoulder!"

The words never came from my mouth. In an blur of lights, a van going 50 ran right over him. Killing him in an instant. 3 feet from my reach, looking into his eyes. And he was gone. The air rushed from my lungs and I fell to my knees and screamed. I saw the hope in his eyes. He was going to be ok, and then he was gone.

The second van stopped after dragging him another 40 feet. I rushed to where he was. By this time traffic was finally stopping. I saw a lady by the gas station and I screamed for her to call 911. Another person and I rushed to where he ended up. I stood over him. There was nothing I could do. His body was decimated. I had never seen something like this before, and I just stared at him. we tried to give him CPR but it was hopeless. Without going into detail, it was VERY obvious he would never come back to life.

I was still standing over him when the police and the EMTs arrived. They checked him and put a sheet over him. the officer asked if I would help direct traffic, so I took a flare and did what he asked. there is actually a picture of me at the scene directing traffic that was in the Herald Palladium newspaper. After 2 hours of being questioned about what I saw, I was able to go home.

Over the next 6 months I had to answer questions to lawyers for his family and the city and MDOT who maintained the overpass. I had to relive that damn accident over and over.

I finally was able to find out who this man was. I had to know because of that second he looked at me, I felt a bond that I was not able to keep with him. he was driving an 18 wheeler on the highway, and it broke down. He had walked up the on ramp, and went to an ATM at the gas station right there. It wasn't working so he had to cross that damned road to get to another one. that was when he was hit. he had a wife and 2 young children that I met later on,

There was a lawsuit about a year later, and I had to go through every little detail again in a courtroom. I had to see the pictures of his lifeless body in the road, and in the ambulance. I had to watch as his wife and kids were crying. I had to listen to the asshole lawyers who tried to pin the blame on this poor man, call him stupid for being in the road. I wanted to lash out and beat the crap out of him.

I gave my testimony on what I saw happen. I personally blame the pathetic lighting and the assholes that drive so fast through there. The 2 vans that hit him claim they never saw him. I saw him just fine, and I had a headlight out. What does that say about them? I made sure I told the judge that as well.

I was dismissed and told that I was done. I hugged his wife and kids and I drove back home 270 miles crying all of the way. i never knew how the lawsuit ended up. I never wanted to know. I just felt horrible.

When I was in the ICU with my illness, his was the face I always saw in the window. Never anyone else. Always him. that look of peace knowing I was going to help him.

And to this day, I feel like I let him down.

Damn holes and a rum cake surprise!

So I'm doing good. Back to work part time. Feeling like I could do anything with my renewed energy. But with that confidence, I forgot that the chances of my illness coming back was a real possibility. I never wanted to think about it, so I didn't. I would get tired, but I would keep going. Pushing myself, not wanting to slow down.

I had forgot how weak my muscles still were. I went to Traverse City one day and parked at Borders in a handicapped spot. I got out of my Pathfinder, and stepped up the on to the grass and caught the side of a hole that was hidden within the fresh cut lawn. I went down like a bag of rocks. It was the first time I had fallen since rehab. and it scared the crap out of me.

My ankle made a very distinct POP sound. I had to have help getting up. When I did my foot was already swelling up. By the end of the day I could hardly walk on it.

I worked through it, but over the next few months it was getting weaker and weaker. I would constantly roll my ankle, Finally I got it checked out, and found that I had ripped to tendons in said ankle. I ended up suing the development company for the hole that they had left due to some underground sprinkler install. I sued for the principle. It was RIGHT NEXT TO A HANDICAPPED SPOT! I ended up settling with the company, but part of the deal was that they would fix the death hole that swallowed my ankle.

All of these years later, the hole is still there. Bastards.

August of 2001 I separated from my wife. It had been a looooong time coming. I had surgery that month to repair my devastated ankle. I had an apartment with my friend Dan Russell. He and our friends made sure that I was very well taken care of when I had that cast on my leg. 6 weeks of crutches all over again,

I was feeling real crappy about myself once again. I was getting bitter about having to have others help me to even make a sandwich and carry it into the other room to eat it.

September 11, 2001.

I was sleeping off some beer and pain meds when the phone rang. My Mom had said a plane crashed into the WTC. I crawled out of bed and across the floor to the living room, dragging my leg as I went. I turned the TV on 5 minutes before the next plane plowed into the second tower,

Suddenly NOTHING was about me anymore. My ankle issues were washed away in a wave of anger and sympathy for those poor souls. At that point, nothing was about me. It was about others.

That was the second time where a tragedy that unfolded on TV made me rethink what I was put on this planet for. I never wanted anyone to have to suffer needlessly. I wanted to be able to help them.

I worked hard to get my ankle back in shape, and after the 6 weeks were up, the cast came off. I started dating my future wife, and I started helping people with computer repairs for free. I wanted to make sure that those who didn't have the means or the chance to have their computers fixed by a normal repair shop, get the repairs they deserved. Money or no money, I fixed them.

Over the years I have have lost ALOT of money fixing computers for free. But that never mattered. I wanted to give back. For the guy that helped me with the $100, and all of those who helped me rise up and get over my illness. For those who supported me. For all of my friends that came to see me. I wanted to give back.

I will never forget how loved I felt by those who watched over me.

My dear friend Shannon Lavoie came to see me when I was in the ICU in Petoskey. She was SO trying to smile when they were there, but I remember she had to leave because she was crying so badly.

Shannon, I still love you. Every time I think about you I smile. I'll always remember you driving with me one of the first times I drove anywhere after I was on crutches. You made sure I got to see my friend Tim before he went away. The look on peoples faces when I got out of that truck. You gave me the confidence I needed to get there. Even though I couldn't stay long, you helped me get there.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart. :)

Over the years since my illness, I still have some residual effects. I still have numbness in my toes, and in my hands. I still get numbness in my legs when I stand for more than an hour. And I still have a heart issue from the strain the GBS Eventually I had to have a pacemaker installed to help keep the beat. I ended up with congestive Heart Failure from the scar tissue on my heart. But I have recovered almost 80% from where I was 4 years ago. and 90% from where I was when that damn sauce packet smacked knocked my ass to the curb. I still get some nerves that come back to life. It's like a sharp quick pain, and then it's gone. I will never get the damaged ones back, but they let me know that they are still there, and they let me know that by communicating with that sharp pain, then they go back dormant.

I think back to when I tried to off myself in the ICU. I'm glad I never succeeded. I love my life, and all that are in it.

Now.....there were some things that I skipped over that happened to me in that period where I was wrecked. I remember a few things everyday, so I will include them as I think about it.

I used to feign weakness to lean into my favorite nurses chest when I was in Munson. Oh MY was she hot, and, well....was built VERY well. After about 6 days of this happening, I think she knew what was going on. Day 7 she smiled at me when she was helping me up, and leaned to my right and supported my front from falling forward. I had to laugh. She was such an awesome nurse.

There was a girl that came in from Conway Michigan who had broke her back. I can't remember her name, but she was wearing this plastic body brace that made her look like Wonder Woman. We became friends and she was really one cool chick.

April 7, 1999. My FAVORITE nurse at Munson was so good to me. She was a scuba diver when she wasn't working, and we always sat and talked when she was on shift, and even when her shift ended. She used to actually come back and watch South Park with me when it was on. On this night she came in and brought popcorn. We watched the "Rainforest Shmainforest" episode. We laughed our asses off. I was to be discharged in the next week, so the day before I was to leave, she brought me in a six-pack of Tsing Tao Beer and a REAL rum cake from the Caymans. That was her "Congrats, you made it!" gift to me. She was awesome. I lost track of her over the years, but I'll always remember her.

Well......that's it for today. I'll be back tomorrow with more stupid acts on my part. Grab some nachos and watch the sunset. I'll never take them for granted anymore.

Hey, That's A Pot Roast! aka Roll Me Away!

Well, that was me. 2 months before I got sick. I'm doing my best Elvis impression. Or I was threatening someone. Not really sure. I had the rest of my life ahead of me. No worries, and great friends and family. Little did I know that life was going to kick my ass and pour sugar in my gas tank.

Spring of 1999. I look like a disabled fly with my sunglasses on. Light was still effecting my eyes, so I word my Gargoyles everywhere I went. I didn't have much strength at all, but I could move and wheel myself around pretty good. Outpatient therapy was HARD! But the fine folks at Charlevoix Area Hospital took great care of me. Robert Gorkiewicz made me believe that I could walk, and on my first day I did it. With support from the walk assist, and Robert. But I did it, very slowly. Energy was gone JUST like that though. It was important that I never over fatigued. If I did, there was a chance my illness would come back,

These were 2lb weights. You can tell by the look on my face, I was straining. I kind of have a Billy Idol lip curl going on. I still had weak facial muscles, but I could ALMOST smile. It would take months to be able to lift any normal weight. I spent most of my days in a wheelchair or relaxing on the couch. Hagen Manker had built a ramp at my parents house so I could get in and out easily. He also set up their bathroom so I could easily access it. He did this all for free, and I can never thank him or Sulane Hamilton enough for how they helped me. I watched ALOT of TV. During this time the Columbine Shootings occurred. I watched it all unfold live on television. I started thinking how lucky I was to be able to survive what happened to me. I never have shaken the image of what I saw from my head. Those poor people, and the assholes that decided to take them from their families. I was lucky, but I couldn't accept that.

The very first REAL meal my mom made for me was Pot Roast. Never have I tasted such an incredible meal. It was like God cooked it himself. Staying at my parents while recovering was good, but I was alone pretty much all day. My ex-wife would work, and stop by occasionally to see me. The nights were another thing. I was all by myself after 10pm. My parents would go to bed, and I would be alone in my room. Nothing but a radio. I would always ask my ex to come and stay with me, but she never did. I don't know if she was just uncomfortable or what, but it never happened. And nights were empty and depressing.

3 weeks after coming home, I started using a walker. Little bits at a time, but I was getting there. a week later I was pretty damn sick of that walker, so I just told my Mom I was sick of it, pushed it aside and walked. I WALKED! Totally slow and clumsy....and only 4 steps but I did it! A week later, I was walking with crutches. I was progressing so much faster than I could ever imagine.

Then I decided I wanted my life back. Dr. Mackenzie allowed me to get my drivers license back. It had been temporarily revoked because of the seizures I had, but now they were gone. I remember the day I threw my crutches in the back of my Pathfinder, and started it up. I was getting back to normal.

By June of 1999 I was walking with little or no assistance from my crutches. I was feeling real good...I had come so far.

Then the nightmares. They were horrifying.

I still have them to this day. Dreams of being helpless. Being in a situation where someone is going to die, and I have no control to stop it. Sometimes, it was me. Mostly it was loved ones. But it was terrible all the same. 3 nights a week, I have these dreams. I have just learned to live with them.

October of 1999 I went back to work at Village Inn Pizza delivering pizzas. that's right  I had recovered enough to be able to work. My first delivery I was pulled over for speeding because I was so happy. the officer knew me and was shocked that I was doing so well. He shook my hand and and said to slow it down.

Lol....I didn't slow down. I kept going. Getting stronger everyday. I wasn't going to let anything stop me ever again.

Or did I?

Check back tomorrow for the conclusion to my story. I fall in a hole! Tons of laughs coming up Saturday. Stick around!

Episode 5: "How do you remove that?

I need to backtrack a little here.

I had an AWESOME head of hair when I was admitted. Long and curly. It never hit me until I looked in a mirror the second day at Munson, that it was gone. They cut it all off and shaved my head in Petoskey. So long awesome hair!

 I also forgot to mention that my feeding tube, catheter and med tap were still connected to my body when I was transferred, just in case they needed to be used again. 1 week in, it was time to remove all three. The nurse came in the first week and "gently" removed my catheter. It was quick. I told her that I still felt pressure, and she said not to worry. My bladder was empty.

It wasn't.....I peed all over her, my bed and myself. I was so embarrassed, but God bless her, she laughed and said not to worry. It sometimes happen. Wow. That was the first and last time I ever urinated on someone. Not as kinky as I thought it was going to be.

The next day they removed the sutures on my med tap. I When they took it off my chest, it bled alot, and scared me. My blood was so thinned by the meds, I felt like the oil that Jed Clampett discovered when he was shooting at some food. It actually it! 10 minutes later, I was stitched up and ready to go. The next morning it was time for the feeding tube to be removed.

I was wheeled into the OR and prepped. They didn't put me out, but MAN was I loopy. I could hear music playing, and I asked him how he was going to remove the tube.

"Just like a lawnmower!" he said, and proceeded to yank it right out. It was actually pretty cool. I never felt a thing because of the drugs, and I laughed. It was that easy. Some stitches and back to my room I went.

Now being in Traverse, I was far away from friends and family so I didn't have many visitors. My sister who DID live in Traverse would come by and eat lunch with me 3-4 days out of the week. My parents would come by on the weekends, and my ex-wife would stop by occasionally. But I had the GREATEST staff in the world that were always there no matter what I needed, ready to make me laugh.

Therapy. LOTS of theraband. Kind of like a latex rubber mesh that you hook to something, and pull to strengthen your muscles. It was always a joy when it snapped back hitting me. Also this weird mouth thing. I call it that because I have NO idea what it's real name is. You put it in your mouth and it's like a spring. You open your mouth, then try to close it against this spring. This went on for about 15 minutes a day. It loved to fly out of my mouth as well.

The beginning of the second week I finally got a bath. Oh my GOD! HOORAY!!!!! They put me on a flat gurney and my nurse wheeled me into a giant shower. It was the size of a living room. Bare naked lying there with a VERY good looking nurse bathing me. Yeah, it was awesome....not going to lie to you. But still, I wasn't able to do this on my own, and reality kind of hit me. I always took simple things for granted. I miss being able to shower myself. To eat food myself, Everything I needed I had to be assisted. And it hit me again. The guilt.

My days were filled with therapy, and tests. My nerves were coming back at a tremendous rate. You may think that's a good thing, but the pain that goes with the regeneration was horrible. They had to up my meds to keep me sedated from the agonizing burning of my now reviving nerves. They also fed me whatever I wanted. I was so tired in the mornings, I usually just had sausage. Because I was on a calorie count, and had to reach a certain goal, I usually had 10 big links. Nothing else sounded good. At least it didn't have to be ground up anymore.

Easter was coming and I wanted to see my family. My Mom and Dad cooked up this massive amount of food and brought it down to the hospital. My family and I sat in the rec room, me in a wheelchair of course, and had Easter dinner. They also brought enough food for the staff as a way for thanking them for the great care they gave me. Bob Munieo, a helluva great guy, even sent a HUGE blueberry cheesecake for me that he made from scratch. I shared it with my nurses. They were always so good to me so it made me smile that I could give something to them.

I had to learn how to get up if I were to fall. This was extremely painful and awkward. They would set me on the ground, and I would have to use my wheelchair or whatever was available for leverage, and pull myself up. I was getting pretty good, but a little cocky.

The nurse came in at the beginning of week 4 and I wanted to surprise her. Not only was I able to dress myself, (shorts and a t-shirt) but I sat up and relaxed on the end of the bed. Then my cockiness got the best of me. I pushed myself up using the chair next to the table. I was able to actually stand, and then promptly fell straight over onto the tile floor. Face first with a thud. Ow. Learned a valuable lesson that day. Don't be an idiot.

Week 4 was great. I actually got to go to the library on a day trip outside. I finally was able to check my e-mail. Hmmmm.....over 1500 of them. I blew through what I could and went back to Munson. I also realized I had over 200 cards and letters from my friends and family. I finally got to read them all. I had to cry. It was overwhelming.

Then something happened at the end of week 4. I suddenly got sick. VERY sick. I spiked a 103 temp and my enzyte count shot through the roof. My liver wasn't working right and my kidneys were failing. It happened literally in 6 hours. I was rushed to ICU and hooked up to ANOTHER ton of machines. What the hell was going on? I was doing so good! They stopped all meds, and monitored me to see what happened. Turned out I had "Drug Fever". My body was just too saturated with meds, and it was shutting down. As soon as the meds were adjusted, the fever broke.

Now, when I was back in ICU 3 people came to see me. To this day I swear it was Bryan Winegar, Tim Roeth and Shannon LaVoie. They snuck me in a pizza from Crusted Creations in Traverse. And it was like heaven. But when I asked Bryan about it, he says it wasn't him. Same with Tim. I have not spoken to Shannon, but if it wasn't them? Who was it? I honestly don't know who it was. But they were angels. Angels with a pepperoni pizza and double cheese.

Back to my room after 3 days I went. Week 5 was just starting and I was looking forward to busting my ass so I could go home. The depression was still effecting me, and I was able to talk to the hospital counselor about my survivors guilt. It was hard going through what I did, and know that I lived. It just felt weird. I can't explain it to this day. I felt guilty for being alive and having all of these people have to take care of me. To put mu friends and family what I went through. I just didn't feel right, and it effected me.

Then something happened. One afternoon a guy came to my room. He told me he had been sick with GBS a few years back, and he wanted to give me something. He handed me an envelope and said "Someone gave me an envelope when I was in the hospital. He told me to do the same for someone else who needs it when you can."

In the envelope was $100. I was floored. I wanted to say more to him, but he left. Just like that. A stranger just handed me $100 because he thought I needed it. He was paying it forward. I suddenly felt really good. I felt like I was SUPPOSED to survive. I would from that day on help anyone who needed help. That is why to this day I help people by fixing their computers at no charge if they can't afford it, and give computers to those who need one. I was going to be ok.

The next day, I was told I was going home. After nearly 13 weeks. I was going home.

Did the ambulance driver that drove me home stop for Wendy's so I could get a cheeseburger and a Frosty? Find out tomorrow for the meaty conclusion!

Part 3: Return Of The Immune System!

So, where were we........

5 days after I black out, I come out of it. I remember looking to my left and seeing Lake Michigan out of my window. I look to my right and see machines. I have a sense of confusion, and had NO clue where I was. Am I dead? I try to move, but of course I can't. Then I remember. I'm paralyzed. I'm in the hospital. and I am alive. ALIVE! The nurse comes in and she is shocked that I am awake. She asks me questions that i of course cannot answer. But I can move my lips. Wait....no mask on my face? How can I breathe so well? That is when she informs me that I had a tracheotomy, and my breathing was controlled by a machine. I was also informed that a feeding tube had been inserted into my stomach, a catheter in my, well you know as well as a med tap in my chest.

Wow. I must look like a wreck.

Turns out I still had not had a bowel movement since I came in, and they were concerned.

Now let me say one thing. I had NO control over what I did. Nothing. If I had to go, I just went. No holding it, no squuezing it. Nothing. All of the muscles that controlled this were dead. You'll never know how much you take advantage of a bathroom until you can never use one.

Apparently I had a heart attack from the stress my body had been under. (I don't actually remember this, I was informed later). And had to be brought back to life. And was now being monitored with a machine. I looked around me and was just scared, but alive.

The next 6 weeks is a blur of tests and probes. Specialists came and went as they tried to find out what had caused my illness. Thy were able to stop me from dying, and stabalized me, but I was still in danger unless they could find a cure. to find a cure, they needed to know what it was.

I would love to tell you about everyday life in my room, but they kept me in a drug-induced coma 75% of the time, so I will just share some of the things I experienced during my 7 week stay in ICU.

I threw up. ALOT. My diet consisted of 3 cans of Ensure injected directly into my stomach via the feeding tube. The sensation was horrible as they kept it refigerated. And they were not gentle about it being injected. It hit my stomach COLD and fast. Sometimes resulting in it coming back up.

Ever wonder what it's like to throw up with a trache in your throat? Not so pretty. They have to disconect it and clean it out. they also have to make sure none went down my throat, and if it did, they put a tube in to suck it out. Yeah, it's as bad as it sounds. And it hurt.

I could only move my head and neck. So they had a touch button placed next to my head in case I needed the nurse. Simply put,, I would press my head against the button and they would come in.

I would stare at the ceiling all day. The TV was on, but you can only handle The Weather Channel for so long, I had no control to change the station. I was however able to find every letter of the alphabet in the ceiling tiles. there were little holes that made patterns. I found then all!

There was what I call "The Torture Table". What they did was move me from my bed to this flat board with straps on it. The ran a strap across my chest, and my legs. Then tilted the board to where I was at an angle facing the wll. The pain was SO horrible. It felt like my insides were sliding out of me and into my legs. I would beg for them to stop, but I guess it was some sort of therapy. Whatever. To me it was just evil.

The meds I was on used to make me see things and and give me weird sensations. I used to see faces in the window outside even though I was 6 floors up. I used to also think I had nails in my mouth. The sensation was there I could fell them. I had to be convinced by the nurses that  they were not there. Then it was razor blades. I could feel them cutting my mouth and swallowing them. Then it was string stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I was choking on it. No matter what the nurse told me, I swear it was there.

There were times I wanted to just die. I never thought I would have a normal life and I didn''t want others to have to take care of me. I never told anyone this before. I tried to take my own life several times.

I was able to work out the trache tube if I moved my neck enough. I would start to suffocate when it came out. I would close my eyes and wait to die. They always came in and fixed it though. I tried over and over to just end it, but I couldn't. I'm not sure if they knew what I was doing or not.

Whenever I had a blockage of fluid in my throat, they would have to dig in the trache hole, and suck it out. Picture a fork running across the inside of your mouth. Then swallow it and have it stick there. It was worse than that. It always drew alot of blood.

I forgot to mention that the nurses had got pretty good at reading my lips. I still couldn't talk, but I could comunicate by moving my lips. I was also able to make a clicking sound with my tongue if they had their back to me to get their attention. It worked.

Then I started having seizures. About 3 weeks in. i would wake up and the room would be full of nurses. i would have NO idea where i was when I came out of them. It was like not knowing who you were, or where you were. It was so fun playing the "Do you know who you are, and where you are?" game. So they decided that they need to find out why I was having these seizures.

"Hey, his eyes are open!"

That is what I heard when as I woke up while they were drilling a hole in my skull. I felt it. I heard it, and I smelled it. 3 of the most horrifying seconds ever. The room went nuts as they rushed to put me back out. I woke up later in my room with a tube in my head. They drilled to relieve pressure that was not even there to try and stop the seizures. they still had no idea why they were happening, so on the meds for THAT as well.

A doctor came in one day when my father was visiting. I would LOVE to mention his name. But I won't. I will say however that he is a very well known docor at Northern Michigan Hospital. He was a royal DICK. He was asking me questions about my heart that I could not answer. He kept pressing me to answer question after question. My dad did the best he could. there was a letter board that I could use if someone held my hand to it, I tried to spell something out, but he got pissed and told my dad that when I figured out what I wanted to say to call him. I made my clicking sound, and he turned to me.

I used every ounce of energy I had, but I flipped him off. With my dad's help of course.

 "Fuck you!" I whispered to the nice doctor.

He left. I never saw him again.

Progress was being made, and one day they figured out what I was suffering from. GBS. The virus had been dormant after I had the food poisoning. It supressed my immune system. That was why the viral pneumonia was able to kick my ass. When I was treated for that, my immune system recovered. But the virus was in my spinal fluid. It made my white blood cell count shoot through the roof, and it attacked. Sadly it attacked me as well. It corroded the sheath around my nerves that send the signal to my brain, cutting off all communication, and paralyzing me.

I had been tested for everything from AIDS to Lyme Disease. Seeing I had been living in Mojave in Southern California, there was an even WIDER range of things it could have been. But a simple blood test would have shown that my white blood cell count was out of control

"Go home. You'll be fine"

If they would only have done that blood test. Dr Lo was the ONLY doctor that listened to me, and he suspected what it was. I love that man. He is a great doctor. He came to see me when i was in the hospital. the other doctor that sent me home, never did. And he was a friend of the family.

Dr. Mackenzie was my new doctor. It had now been almost 6 weeks since I was admitted. A great guy. He wanted to get me off the respirator and back breathing on my own. I had made so much progress and he want to move me to Munson to start rehab. The first time I had the trache out, it was weird. It felt like I was was inhaling water, but after 5 days i was doing it. Breathing on my own. My first words in 6 weeks came from my mouth.

"Can I get a drink?" were my first words. Laughter. And I smiled. I was going to live, and I was going to Traverse City to start a long road of recovery. And it was going to be TOUGH!

7 weeks. I was supposed to be in ICU for 3 months. I was able to recover in 7 weeks. Not bad for someone who was clinically dead.

Did I mention I now had NO muscle tone, and had lost nearly 100lbs in that amount of time? yeah, The GBS diet plan. I don't recommend it!

The story continues tomorrow.......stick around!

The saga continues......

Ok, so I'm now home from the hospital. Feeling so much better, but still suffering from the pneumonia. I take it easy. Eat some soup and watch some tv. Feels good that I finally have the meds I need to get over that crap that wrecked me for OH so long. I decide to take a nap and get some much needed rest.

I wake up early in the evening. I get up to use the bathroom. By body feels kind of sore, but I just blow it off as a side effect of still being sick. When I crawl back into bed, I notice my nose is kind of tingly. Once again, I chock it up to being sick. I sleep some more, but I wake up shortly after because I just don't feel right. My nose is REALLY tingly, and it feels like it is going numb. I call the hospital, and they tell me if it gets any worse, stop back and they will check it out for me.

Tuesday is more of the same. Tingly nose and fatigue. Other than that, no worries. I eat a little, take my massive dose of meds and relax the day away. I venture out of the house for awhile, just to run out of energy right away. At this point, I'm starting to question if everything is ok. I know I'm still sick, but something just does NOT feel right. I end the day with more meds, and some food.

Wednesday. Something is wrong, I know it. My nose is completely numb now and my cheeks feel tingly. I have a horrible taste in my mouth, and my head is just pounding like an subwoofer. I decide to go to the hospital to get checked out. I'm really getting freaked out. I wait for about 30 minutes, and I go into the room. Blood pressure is high, but no big deal as I m stressing out they tell me. The doctor comes in and talks to me. I tell him about the numbing of my nose and the tingly cheeks. He gives me a script for the pain, and tells me that it's just a side effect from the pneumonia.

"Go home. You'll be fine."

No tests, no blood work no nothing. Just go home.

I would regret that advice. At that moment, I was dying and never even knew it. A simple blood test would have shown there was a SERIOUS problem, but it was never checked. It was never even discussed.

So I get the script filled, take the meds and it has no effect on my splitting head. It is now 4PM and I'm remembering what the doctor said. It's just a side effect and I'll be fine. My friend Bryan comes over, and by this time I am so tired, I can't walk right. I make a joke that I'm walking like a 2 year old, all clumsy and stumbling. I now need to support myself when I walk because my legs are so week. I laugh it off with Bryan and I end my day.

During the night I am really hurting. My body feels like it is on fire, and I am having a serious problem breathing. No amount of asthma medication is working. I go upstairs and run a bath. I get in the water and it feels like a million needles being shoved into my body. Oh my GOD! it hurts so much. It takes me 30 minutes to climb out and stumble downstairs. I wake up my then wife, and tell her what is going on. She helps me to the couch, where I will spend the rest of the night trying to relax. I am scared to death now.

I awake Thursday morning, and I know I have to go see the doctor. This time I choose to go to Quick Care in Petoskey. Bryan drives me there as I can no longer even work the clutch on my Pathfinder. They get me right in and run x-rays on my lungs. They also draw blood, but results won't be in for awhile.

Dr Lo sees something that he does not like. He tells me that he thinks he knows what is happening, but he isn't positive. He tells me that he is going to get me admitted to the hospital on Friday. He's very concerned and tells me that if I need to go there tonight, not to hesitate.

Bryan has to help me walk to the car. I can no longer walk on my own as my legs are crumbling under me. My fingers are now numb as well as parts of my legs and my back. I have no strength left.

 I arrange or my friend George to pick me up Friday morning and take me to the ER.

I am in such pain. I cannot describe the feeling, because it wasn't normal pain. It was something I had never felt, and I couldn't stop it. It was like a tremor wave. It would originate from my neck, and roll down to my toes. Over and over. Like a rolling pin with nails stuck in it. Every 2 minutes it made it's rounds down my body.

Now for a joke! There is a bear and a rabbit taking a crap in the woods. The bear looks uncomfortable. He looks at the rabbit and asks, "Do you ever had trouble with poop sticking to your fur?" The rabbit says, "No, why? So the bear wipes his butt with the rabbit.

Friday January 22 1999. 7AM. My day of reckoning.

A small plane had been lost near Pellston the day before. It had been a crappy icy day, and the plane went down, but nobody knew where. This was the day after, and the weather was still the same. It took me 30 minutes to get dressed with the help of my ex-wife, and another 15 minutes to climb 12 steps. I plopped down in the chair and awaited George to come get me at 9am. She left for work, and I sat there....waiting. Crying from the pain. I now had lost all feeling in my legs and lower torso. My feet were KIND of numb, but they were going fast. I had the phone on my lap just in case I needed to call anyone, but my fingers were dead. I couldn't even flex them anymore.

Then it happened. I suddenly couldn't get air out of my lungs. I could breathe in, but out...not so good. I picked up the phone and dialed 911. With my nose.

That's right. I tried 3 times with my dead fingers and I could not press the buttons. I used my nose. It took sevral attempts, but it worked.

I was panicking. I was told that they would send the EMTs to get me but because of the weather and the fact that alot of rescue personnel were still looking for that plane, the ambulance would be coming from Charlevoix. 17 miles away. Help was coming.....but would they make it before I passed out?

Dispatch kept me on the phone as best they could, but I was going out. I remember dropping the phone and trying to reach it, but I couldn't move. I blacked out. I kind of came too and the EMTs were putting me on the stretcher. I felt the cold air outside hit me, and the sleet bouncing off the roof of the house. Everything was foggy. I heard the paramedic say that my lungs were shutting down, and they put a mask over my face forcing air in to keep me alive. I then blacked out again.

I woke up in a hospital room, on my stomach. George was sitting there talking to a nurse. I can't remember if I called him, or if he just showed up to get me and I was gone. No idea. I asked the nurse what was happening. I could now breath a little better but it was hard to talk. My mouth was loosing the ability to form words. She told me that I was very sick and they were getting ready to run some tests. George kept me calm, bless his heart because I was FREAKING out! Then they asked him to wait outside, and here came the spinal tap, and I'm not talking baout Fat Bottom Girls making the rockin' world go 'round. I had never seen a needle like that.

OH MY GOD THE PAIN as they put it into my spine.

Afterwards I asked if I was going to admitted. I don't know if her expression was a stunned look of disbelief, or a look of "What are you, an idiot? look. yeah, i was being admitted and a room in the ICU was being prepped. By all of the activity going on around me, you would have thought it was Grand Central Station.

I blacked out again.

I awoke and it was 4 hours later. I was in the room, and they were setting up machines and gizmos the likes of which I have never seen before. I tried to talk, but my mouth just didn't work anymore. i could move my neck and my head, and that was it. I was now paralyzed from whatever was wrong with me. Everything from the neck down was dead. I started to cry. The nurse tried to calm me down....but I cried like I had never cried before. I was so scared. a fear that I had never known, and to this day, never have felt again. I was helpless.

3 days went by and I remember almost none of it. I remember having a sort of mask with tubes in my nose because I couldn't get enough air in by myself. I also remember hearing the doctor to call my parents who were on vacation in Mexico to come home because I was not going to survive another 48 hours. I was dying, and they didn't know why. They couldn't stop the progress of the paralysis, and it was starting to strain my heart. I accepted the fact that I was going to die. I just felt horrible that I could not say goodbye to anyone. I was never going to be able to see my friends and family again. this was it. I accepted it, but I was hoping for a miracle.

Then I passed out. this was it I thought. I was about to die.

The saga continues later. I get to tell you the part where I woke up in the middle of getting a hole drilled in my head!

Let me begin.....

So. Here we are. The Daily skid Mark. In the next few days I will try to make you think, make you laugh, make you cry and probably make you sick. Maybe not!

I want to share a story about an illness that I suffered that almost took my life. Something that started out with food poisoning, and 3 months later turned into a fight for my survival. I have disecussed this before on Facebook, and some of my friends know about what I went through. It was a scary part of my life that still haunts me to this day.

And no, it wasn't explosive herpes.

It was Guillain-Barre syndrome.

In medical terms, Guillain-Barre syndrome is an autoimmune disorder (the body's immune system attacks itself). Exactly what triggers Guillain-Barre syndrome is unknown. The syndrome may occur at any age, but is most common in people of both sexes between ages 30 and 50.

Basically, your immune system eats the connection away from your nerves to your brain. Disconnecting your ability to talk, move and in even worse, your ability to breathe.

In October of 1998, I was living in southern California in between radi gigs. I was OH so very hungry, and the sandwich this day was an Arby's chicken and bacon masterpiece. After plowing through my curly fries, I squeezed out my Arbys Sauce and just DESTROYED that culinary sammich! Yumm-O! I finished my meal and drove home to watch the sun go down.

But the sandwich had other plans.

2 hours after I finished the meal, I was sick. And I mean SICK! I had had stomach flu before, but this was just horrible. Without going in to great detail, I spent literally HOURS in the bathroom. I could hold no food or liquids down. And this went on for 3 weeks. The LONGEST 3 weeks in my life (up until then.).

I ended up at a medical center because I had lost 28 pounds. IV's of fluids and lots of meds broughy me back, but I still suffered from fatigue. I ended flying back to Michigan in mid-November because I had a hard time recovering from that damn chicken sandwich. (To be fair, it turned out it was the sauce packet. There was a pinhole that caused bacteria to get into the sauce, thus creating a recipe, so to speak, for disaster.).

November rolled on, and December came and went and still I suffered from the effects of this damn meal I so HAD to have. It was to the point where I didn't even want to get out of bed. Food tasted starnge, and activities were basically impossible. Then came January, 1999. The single most scary month in my 45 years on this planet. I can never fully explain the hell that I had to go through. I would never wish it upon anyone.

I mean it. NOBODY deserves this.

Around the middle of January my fatigue got the best of me, and I contracted Viral Pneumonia. I was finally stuck in the hospital because of how fast it hit me. I went from tired to OH MY GOD I CAN'T BREATHE! To the hospital with me! Turns out the food poisoning had so damaged my immune system, that it was only a matter of time before this was going to happen. I went in on a Friday afternoon. They stuck me with needles, crammed pills down my throught and collected fluids from both my lungs and my.....well, you know. They inserted an IV of anibiotics that were HELLA strong! No idea what it was, but in 24 hours I statred feeling better than I had in the last 3 months. Hell, the last 3 YEARS! By Sunday, I was ready to go home because it was like a COMPLETE change from the previous shart-fest that I had enjoyed.

So Monday morning, I went home. 11:25am. Feeling good. Still suffering from fluid in my lungs from the pneummonia, but I had energy.....and it felt good.

But this was the beginning of the end for me, but I had no idea. Inside my body was a time bomb ready to go off, and take everything I was with it. My life was in extreme danger, and nobody knew. Not even the doctors that had just picked over my body for 3 days........

Giggity

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH! Stay tuned for stupid things that will make you fell all fuzzy.


GIGGITY!