There’s a song I remember from years ago – “Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone”. No truer words…
Before I got sick, I lost two of my best friends. One, I’ll call him ‘The Mouseketeer’, to gall bladder disease and the other to my own selfish, egocentric stupidity. That one comes into view every once in a while, keeping their perfect distance but close enough to throw me a lifeline if I need one.
So, when I got sick in March of 2020, I had all but given up. I was drowning in a sea of self-pity. I had let my health deteriorate to a point that the smallest medical problem became one that could end my 60 year run. I had almost 50 pounds of water weight, and fluid had accumulated in my body to the point that the slightest scratch or infection could kill me. I’d had bouts of cellulites for the previous 12 years.
I lost my great toe on my right foot due to staph infection, and I caught Covid 19 coming back from the hospital. It felt like I had a really bad case of the flu – runny nose, fever, night sweats, cough, upset stomach. I survived it though.
Four months later, I contracted it again. This time it was different. It stopped me, I couldn’t breathe. TDCJ had to life flight me to a hospital half a state away.
As I lay in my hospital bed, I encountered a nurse who explained to me that they were going to have to ‘tube me’ so I could breathe – my oxygen level was around 60-70%. I was drowning above water. She told me not to worry, that she would be there when I woke up.
Ten days later, when I regained consciousness she was there by my bedside, holding my hand. I was strapped to a hospital bed with IV tubes and monitors sticking in me and on me, but I noticed her eyes were full of tears.
“We didn’t think you were going to make it. I promised you I’d be here when you came to, so here I am.”
She even hugged me. She brought me ice water and juice for the next five days. I’ve run into these angels in white over the years. They are few and far between in here, but they exist.
While I was ‘out’, I dreamed of my dad, my friends and my family – bittersweet memories brought to life by my subconscious mind. This two-year, hard journey has brought me to this page. Hope.
Despair isn’t the opposite of hope, it’s the conviction that hope doesn’t exist, and that it will never return in the future. That’s where I was before.
I’ve since lost 52 pounds of fluid. My blood sugar is now between 90-120, never above 200. I’m in a wheelchair still because I can’t maintain my balance enough to walk – yet. But I will. And if a higher power wills it, I’ll get another opportunity to show the world that I’m a force of good and not bad.
ABOUT THE WRITER. John Green has been a frequent contributor to WITS, and he is also author of Life Between The Bars, a unique and heartwarming memoir described by Terry LeClerc, “This book is so good because each chapter is short, has a point, doesn’t whine. It’s an excellent book.”
John can be contacted at:
John Green #671771
Jester III Unit 14-18
3 Jester Road
Richmond, Texas 77406
