The long road home.

The best way I can describe how it feels after being in a coma is that after the joy of being alive has subsided and the cold hard reality of recovery sets in, is to say I felt like a 35 year old infant. I could not walk, sit up, lift my arms, or move my legs much at all. I needed help with everything. During the ten days I spent in the coma I had lost an estimated 60 pounds! My muscle tone was non-existant. I looked like a cancer patient that had just been released from a Nazi concentration camp.

It took approximately a week of being bed ridden, preliminary muscle rehabilitation, and lots of eating to regain any sort of control over my body. I had many visitors and watched lots of television. Unfortunately, President Reagan died while I was bed ridden and so the news was rather sad. As my condition improved I was moved to another room with an elderly german gentleman. I don't believe that he appreciated having me as a room mate as we only exchanged a few words in 48 hours. He was soon replaced by a younger german man in his twenties who spoke pretty good english. We got along well before my transfer to the U.S. Army hospital in Wurzburg.

I said goodbye to Jennifer as she needed to get back home and promiced her I would walk into her arms all on my own the next time I saw her. She smiled and said not to worry, and not to hurt myself by trying too hard. I have to admit my transport to Wurzberg was one of the most interesting rides in an automobile I have ever had. I was strapped in the back of an ambulance, facing the rear, racing along on the autobahn at about 110 MPH! The trip took approximately two and a half hours, all of which was hair raising.

Wanting to escape the prison that had been my beds for almost two weeks, I began walking in ernest with the use of a walker once I settled in at Wurzburg. I required supervision in the beginning but soon was walking around the loop of my wing of the hospital. The amount of visitors also increased after I was transfered, everyone wanted to see the 'miracle man'! People would come in and ask me how I was doing and sit and start chatting. I would respond with 'Fine, but who are you?' My doctors ran test after test in their attempt to determine what had actually happened.

After a few days my head doctor came in and sat at the edge of the bed, something the german doctors never did. I expected somethng serious, but instead he asked me how I was feeling. I told him that I was understandably going a little stir-crazy! He agreed and told me to get out of the hospital the next day. He told me of this castle he thought I should check out. After almost three weeks in three different hospitals, I was getting out, even if only for a day! It was wonderful, and tiring. The thing I remember the most is the warmth of the sun on my body, and the cool breeze upon my skin. It truly is amazing what we take for granted. I was invigorated to get better, back to my old self. To run, jump, and live again!

After days of wrangling with the travel coordinators I was soon headed to Frankfurt to catch a plane home. It was by far the longest, worst flight I have ever been on. Luftstanza Airlines is the worst for international travel. The seats were stiff and unforgiving. My nerves were still'reconnecting' and I had fits of itchyness. But for as bad as the Luftstanza flight was, the travel coordinators had arranged airport buggies to ferry me through customs in Denver. That was slick!

The flight to Seattle was full of quiet anticipation. I had been walking now for about a week and a half since I last saw Jennifer. I knew she would be at the airport to greet me, even though we were coming in late in the evening. What I wasn't prepared for was everyone else, more of the 'miracle man' syndrom. There were so many people there to greet me it was a little overwhelming. There were people there I had never met, but whom I would get to know over the next few months. Standing in the back of the crowd was Jennifer. I moved away from the top of the escalator and asked everyone to give me some room. I placed my walker to the side and took about six steps into her arms. I simply said, 'I told you so.', then grabbed for my walker!

Rehabilitation, and learning the price paid.>>

Caring is good, doing something is better.