My Injury

This is from my original Facebook post and it summarizes my injury pretty well 

Today I am reminded of how much this last year has changed me and so many others. On February 11th I was getting ready to go to a shooting range in WA, where I had been stationed for the last 4 years. I woke up two weeks later in the ICU of St. Joe's hospital in a complete panic, only no matter how much I panicked, the only thing that I could move was my head. I had no idea that two weeks prior I had a .45 caliber hollow point bullet rip through my throat, destroying my carotid artery, left vertebral artery, which only stoped because it had hit my spinal cord. I had become a C4 level quadriplegic. I could no longer move my arms or move/feel anything below my upper chest.

I was transferred to the Army hospital on post where they slowly weened me off of the opiates I was on which was when I started  to remember. I was hooked up to a machine that did all of my breathing for me. I had a trach tube put into my trachea (go figure). I had a pick line put into my heart so the nurses could push fluids and drugs and a tube going up my nose and down my throat so I could get food and water (what would quickly become the bane of my existence). My voice was gone for what I thought was going to be forever. My family made a sign like a Ouija board and I would spell words out that way. I quickly developed pneumonia (for the third time in three weeks) only this time my right lung had started to collapse. I got to watch a doctor go into my lung with what looked like a circus game claw and pull out some of the grossest stuff imaginable (I'll leave that to imagination). The next step was the scariest one so far, it was time to come off the ventilator and breathe on my own. It took a bunch of attempts that never lasted long because my "swimmer and distance runner lungs" were now as strong as a 200 year old smoker's so I would always go into panic mode. I truthfully think that this was my biggest hurdle. 

On top of everything going on, I couldn’t sleep (without meds) because the shredded bullet that opened up like a flower had began slowly working its way out of the lower part of my neck where my should met the base of my neck. 

      

Once again, I was transferred to another hospital as soon as I was stable enough for travel. Only this time it was by a med flight jet to Boston. I was brought to the VA Hospital in West Roxbury for spinal rehab, where I have been since March. Progress is slow but also steady. Initially I lost 50 pounds of muscle and I am proud to say I’ve put almost half of that back on. I now have my beautiful singing voice back (just ask Kass). I have regained more function in my arms and hands. I no longer need medications other than some vitamins and nerve pain meds (go figure). There are way more but it’s 4 AM and my brain can’t think right now. These strides may seem small but trust me, they make a huge difference.

    

The point of this post isn’t so much as to single out anyone in particular that I want to thank (that list goes on forever), nor is it to preach any agendas (like gun safety) or to condemn anyone else (the guy that shot me). This post is to show that life is precious and incredibly fragile. NEVER take the little things for granted. I’ve learned what it’s like to lose them but I now have a profound respect for every little moment. I’ve been fortunate enough to get a second chance at life (thanks bro) and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a little paralysis hold me back.

  

This last year I have experienced death, addiction, paralysis, depression, and I have, for the most part, kicked its fucking ass (sorry mom). And here is why... I have also experienced unwavering love that I had no idea existed. From all of this years trials I have seen exactly how a support system can impact a life, my life. I will be forever thankful to you all and God willing I will beat this. DEO VOLENTE.