PREFACE: 

My name is Michael Weglin. I just celebrated my 28^th birthday, looking forward to my 4^th this coming April, and am currently an ASP/Web applications developer, database administrator and a tax practitioner with skydive videography and skydive weddings just around the corner. Since author isn’t listed in any of those skillsets, I will apologize up front for any ‘flow’ issues of my story. The only things that I author are scripts for the applications that I develop. 

My story is based on my memories from my own experiences and what I have been told by others. I have also tried to throw in a bit of answers of the questions that have been asked of me that others, who experience ARDS, are afraid to ask at first. 

Some items detailed in my story are graphic in nature, medical details and sexually. Nothing is listed that anybody over the age of five isn’t aware of but if you are sensitive to these issues, please use your own judgment in continuing on with my story. 

STORY: 

Name: Michael Weglin

Date: 4-28-98

Time: 11:30 pm

Location: Kent, WA (USA) 

There I was, sitting on my couch in my living room with a zip-loc bag containing a combination of prescription medications of lethal quantities and mixtures (Darocet-N, Ativan, Isocet, Oxybutynin, Hydroxyzine HCL, Metoprolol Tartrate, Prozac, Alprzolam, Amantadine, Hydrocodone/APAP (Tylenol #3) and Benadryl) and a can of Mt Dew. 

Without a second thought, I opened the bag and began to take the pills. I ran out of Mt Dew so I went to the kitchen and grabbed a can of Barq’s root beer to finish off the pills with. If this sounds like an intentional overdose, you are correct. I was in the process of carrying out a planned suicide by overdose. 

I waited about 15 minutes after completing the consumption of the pills before heading towards the bedroom. Why the wait? In my mindset at that time, I wanted to ingest enough of the pills that it would have been too late to do anything about it by time I went back to the bedroom. By the time that I went back there, I was well aware that the ingestion process had begun, my heart was racing and I felt like I was in a drunken state. 

Upon entering the room, I handed my ex-wife (wife at that time) a note that I had begun writing five days prior. Actually, I tried to wake her and have her read it but she didn’t want to wake up so I laid it on her chest and urged her that she would want to read it as soon as possible. I then climbed into bed next to her and went to sleep. 

A short period of time later, I awoke and found her not in the room. She was in another room reading the note. When she saw me, she asked why. I don’t recall much of the conversation that we had after that. I recall that I didn’t allow her to call the paramedics. Believe it or not, she actually didn’t. I did agree that she could call a friend of ours, Tim. We argued a bit, I attempted to leave and then I was back on the couch where it all began, dead. 

The next thing I knew, I was partially blind, paralyzed from the neck down and in a hospital room. My dad was at the end of the bed telling me that I had been in a coma for two and a half months.

I know, you are wondering what happened in between those two times and how I’m sitting here typing this out if I’m blind and paralyzed. I’ll get to all of that and more as I go along here. I will try to tell my experiences of what happened in the time gap above and from then until now. Some of it will be in my words and some will be from what I was told by those who stood by me during the blank time above.

I do have a few memories in the blank time. I had what some would call an experience with death and then dreams that I had during my coma. When I first woke from my coma, I was able to recall some conversations that people had around me but I can’t remember them now. I was able to recall them because, during my coma, I may have seemed asleep or comatose to anyone who saw me but I was awake in my head. I could hear things around me but I couldn’t respond to anything. My body just would not listen to what I was trying to tell it to do.

Here’s what I have been told as to what happened, in short:

I died at home on the couch.

My friend Tim showed up, pulled me off of the couch and began to administer CPR.

I aspirated from the CPR (cause of ARDS).

Paramedics showed up, took over for Tim and took me to Valley Medical Center in Renton, WA.

I was responsive to questions asked at Valley Medical.

I was given a short period to live.

I died again.

I came to.

I suffered a heart attack.

The power went out at Valley.

I was airlifted to Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, WA.

I spent the next two and a half months in a coma.

I can recall what happened after that and tell that in my own words. Before I begin to tell you about the events that happened after my coma, I will expand on the brief mumbles from above.

As I mentioned prior to the list, I died on the couch. I have been told that I was dead for a minimum of six minutes before Tim got there and administered CPR. By that alone, even after recovery, if any, I should not have the brain capacity to be sitting here typing this up. Anyway, Tim pulled me off of the couch to get me on the floor to begin CPR. What nobody knew until months later was that my back was ‘broken’ by the fall of my limp body from the couch to the floor. Once on the floor, Tim started CPR. My ex-wife called the paramedics sometime after I was out on the couch and couldn’t argue about it with her.

During the course of CPR, I aspirated. Simply put, I threw up (vomited) and drowned in it. A good portion of what I had thrown up went down into my lungs and started what would become hell for the next few months for many people around me and myself. It was the onset of ARDS.

Tim performed CPR until the paramedics arrived and took over. I was then whisked off to Valley Medical Center, which was not only the nearest hospital but a very good one. I typed that with a grin. You are asking why I typed that with a grin. To be honest, Valley is a great hospital. My daughter was born there and I had been treated there in the past, along with other family members.

I was vented either by the paramedics on the way to Valley or at Valley. Either way, I was vented. I was not told of my specific state upon admission to Valley. What I recall is that I was somewhat out of it from the stories that I have been told. I was also told that, at one point, I was responsive to questions asked, that I would raise my hands to answer questions. I was told that I was given a number of hours to live before I would be gone for good. My mom called my dad who lives near Las Vegas, NV. My dad made it here in record time, driving straight non-stop.

Most everyone, family (blood and in-laws) and close friends, was present when I was pronounced dead two days after my admission to Valley. I was pronounced dead, tagged and marked for donation. They mark you with blue lines where they are going to make the incisions for taking certain organs for donation.

A close friend, Dan, of many years went in to the room where they had me, to pay his last respects. He said that I kicked when he went into the room. Dan went to get a nurse but was told that it was only my nerves that it was common for that to happen after death. Dan came back to see me and I was kicking some more. He said that he went and grabbed the nurse and dragged her into the room to prove that it wasn’t nerves and that I was actually alive.

I have been told that I was dead that time for approximately ten minutes. That was ten minutes without oxygen to my brain.

After Dan noticed me ‘coming to’ and I started kicking more and more, I tried to rip the vent, which was off from the time that I was pronounced dead, from my mouth. I was strapped after that and induced into a coma. I have been told that it took several full-grown male adults to hold me down so that my arms and legs could be strapped to prevent me from pulling the vent or any of the other devices connected to me.

I mentioned earlier that I had an experience related to my death. I’m not sure which time it was but I believe that it was my second since that was the longer of the two times and by the way that I came back to from death.

I hate to disappoint those that have the stereotype that you see lights, rainbows and all of that. There weren’t any bright lights, tunnels of light or any types of light at all, either on the way to where I went or on the return path. I was just there and back again.

In my mind, I can recall with such detail what it was like to all of my senses. I’m not much of an author but I will do my best to convey what it was like.

I found myself in a dessert type area. It appeared to have been an old drive-in theater. The blacktop was barely visible due to the sand that had been blown over the road by the warm winds. Other than the theater, which had the majority of my focus, there wasn’t much to see. There were a few small house-like buildings to one side of it. Everywhere else that I looked, it was just dessert as far as I could see. There were hills off to one side in the distance.

My initial guess was that I was on an old reservation. Everyone that I saw was native-American in appearance. The economic condition of the area appeared to have been poverty. I’m not saying that as a stereotype but as an observation of that single experience.

There was a little boy playing in the shade near one of the fences that extended from what appeared to be the screen for the drive-in. The fences extending from each side of the screen was a large chain strung between three-foot high poles. At the base of the screen was a small shop that resembled a fireworks outlet.

The most remarkable thing about this experience is that not only did I have my normal senses but also I had what seemed to be other senses or just my normal senses enhanced many times over. I could see as though I were looking at something normally, like looking that my monitor as I type this out but also an overhead view of myself and everything around me at the same time. It was like having a picture-in-picture view of everything. It was wonderful.

Shortly after arriving wherever I was, a group of bikers came rolling through as though from a movie. I followed them through the small town to the other side of the lot to a barn. There was a river that ran through near the barn that allowed for trees to grow near its banks and provided water for grass and other vegetation to grow near the barn.

As the day went on and night began to fall, festivities went on in field in front of the barn. There was a large bonfire in the center of the field where a pig was roasted. Music, laughter and fireworks filled the air. Some of the people sat in folding chairs around the fire and others were dancing to the music. All were enjoying themselves, myself included.

As night fell and the stars became visible, the party started to wind down. Some of the people moved into the barn. A short while later, the entire party was moved indoors. The barn had a loft to each side and open windows. There was lighting up on the lofted areas that somewhat lit the ground level.

I won’t go into detail as to what then transpired inside the barn, it wasn’t pleasant. I will say that I had to make a decision in there. I believe that the decision that I had to make was whether to continue on or return. I chose to return.

It is at this time that I believe that Dan saw me ‘coming to’ in the hospital as I started kicking and trying to rip stuff from my body. I don’t remember any of that. I wish that I could though.

I know that I was induced into a coma at this time to treat the ARDS (Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome) that developed as a result of my aspiration.

Two days following, my fourth day at Valley, I suffered cardiac arrest (heart attack) from the stresses placed on my body from everything that has happened to date. Soon after my arrest but prior to stabilization, the power had gone out at Valley. A part that cost less than five dollars failed and took out all seven backup generators with it. The entire hospital was without power at this time.

Some may see a power outage as a minor inconvenience. This was not the case, especially when dealing with a hospital and people in crisis, even worse when computers and machines are controlling nearly every organ of your body.

I have been told that hospital staff, in an effort to get power to the machines that were keeping me alive, ran extension cords from nearby businesses. After four hours of failure at restoring power, I was airlifted to Harborview. I was the only one airlifted during that crisis. Many others who were not as severe as I was at the time were transported by ambulance to other nearby hospitals.

I spent the next two and a half months at Harborview in a coma. I had occasional period where I was ‘awake’ inside my head but could not move any part of my body. I could not feel anything either except through the perverse extensions of reality in the dreams that I had during my coma.

In my following memories, I remember hearing things, beeps, hisses, voices and music. The beeps and hisses were going on all the time around me, at least as far as I can recall. The voices were occasional. Looking back on it, this is when I was in my coma and hearing things going on around me. The machines were beeping, the vent hissing as it pushed oxygen into my lungs, voices of hospital staff and family as they visited and music once in a while when music was played.

I would have to say that I can’t recall any specific voice or conversation now. I was not ‘awake’ all the time. It was rare that I was aware of anything going on around me. This is also the time that the dreams began, several quite vivid dreams. All but two of my dreams were horrid. One was quite pleasant and the other seemed like my usual ESP dreams that I have once in a while.

I mentioned that I couldn’t feel anything except in the perverse extension of reality of my dreams. In the bad dreams, all but one, I was kidnapped by nurses, taken to their homes and tortured. By torture, I don’t specifically mean that they had me strapped up and beat me. In all of the dreams, I was either strapped or nailed to objects by my wrists or ankles. I hate to use this parallel, especially since I’m not religious, but it was similar to being crucified.

Once incapacitated by whichever method was used, I was usually assaulted by the nurse’s children. They would take needles and poke various parts of my body, usually my fingers and toes, the bottoms of my feet or my palms and once in a while, other parts of my body. I could feel the pain from each and every needle prick. I couldn’t respond, though, no matter how hard I tried.

Looking back and after talking to some of the nurses that took care of me, I was strapped down, I was administered drugs to keep me from feeling anything and to keep me in a coma. I was even given drugs so that I wouldn’t remember anything. When I initially told them of my dreams, I mentioned the needles. I said that they were taking blood. They weren’t though. They were just poking me to see if I was responsive to the nerve stimulation. Even in my dreams, I couldn’t respond but I could feel the pain.

In my ‘ESP’ dream, I went to a white apartment building. I was inside what appeared to be the living room of one of the apartments. Inside was my brother BG and my ex-wife. One was in the living room and the other was in the bedroom.

After waking and talking to my dad and to BG, I was told that Harborview has a white apartment building across the street that they rent rooms out to families of critical patients. BG and my ex got a room from the hospital so they didn’t have to drive every day to see me.

My good dream, which happened to be my last dream, I had bought nine racing bikes (crotch rockets) on sale. I got a wonderful deal on them. I even got a mini bike for my son to ride. In the dream, we all rode to a McDonalds on the bikes, parked near the drive-thru and went in to eat. Later, we all went cruising on them. After that, I lost the key to them and that is when I ‘woke up’.

These dreams were so realistic. The experiences in each one was as though it was actually happening and nothing like a normal dream that you have when you sleep.

I was so convinced that I had bought these bikes and that I had lost the key to them, that I had convinced my dad that I really did buy some bikes before and lost the key to them.

Three years later, it still seems real when I think about it.

Now that I’m awake, I can tell the rest of my story from experience rather than trying to remember what people told me of what went on.

My first memory of me ‘waking up’ is one of my dad telling me that I had been in a coma for two and a half months. I was partially blind (will explain further on) and paralyzed from the neck down. I was so glad to be alive that it didn’t seem to matter to me, the condition that I was in. It was also very nice to have my dad there to talk to.

I was partially blind in that I had atrophy, the loss of muscle, not only to every muscle in my body but also in my eyes. I had hard times focusing on object and controlling the movement of my eyes. As cool as I always thought that it would be to be able to move your eyes around like a chameleon lizard, I didn’t like it at all. The human brain cannot comprehend the data when your eyes move like that. Wasn’t too cool. Anyway, after about two weeks or so of working with my eyes, I was able to focus again.

It wasn’t even a week after waking that I was served with divorce papers. Paralyzed in bed, I was served the papers by one of my ex’s friends.

I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you about being a guinea pig for the doctors. I had blood tests done several times a day and x-rays as well. I was on a morphine drip, catheter, feeding tube and more. Within a week of waking, I was whisked away to an operating room for surgery to try to help the hematoma (pools of blood that form from not moving and gravity pulling the blood to one location – not sure of the spelling) that I developed while in my coma. I had three tubes inserted into my body to drain the pools. Attached to the ends of the tubes were little bags that the nurses and doctors checked on a regular basis to track the amount of blood loss. I had one tube inserted into each buttock and one at the top of one of my thighs.

I weighed approximately 180 pounds when I when all of this started. When I came out of my coma, I was just over 130 pounds. I didn’t have much fat on me to begin with. Most all of the loss was due to atrophy. It was that atrophy the led to the paralysis in my body. It took a bit of time to get the muscles use to moving again and then to build up the strength in them to actually move any part of my body.

It took a couple weeks before I could move just my hands. About a week later, I was able to move my forearm as well. If I recall correctly, I could pick up my hand and forearm about an inch off of the bed for a few seconds before my hands would start shaking uncontrollably and fall back to the bed. A couple more weeks, I was able to move my left leg a bit and pick my entire arms off of the bed for a little bit.

I was transferred to a bed that had a trapeze on it. That was a triangle hanging from a bar above the bed by a chain. I had set a goal to be able to swing the trapeze up and make it hit the supporting bar. When I was first transferred to the new bed, I couldn’t even lift my arms enough to touch the trapeze. After a while, I was able to use one arm to support the other and touch the bar. My next step was to get the tops of my fingers from one hand over the top of the bar. I couldn’t keep them up there for more than a few seconds before the shaking would start again.

At this time, I still could not move my body. It took two nurses to turn my body every four hours to keep the hematoma from getting worse. I did take out my feeding tube at this time. I argued with the nurse about it for a while and then pulled it out. The nurse argued that I had to have the tube because I was not eating enough to keep or build strength. My argument was that it kept gagging me each time I would swallow and I couldn’t keep anything down with it in. Taking it out proved to be a good thing.

Just a note: It’s amazing how much the nurses and doctors don’t listen to what you tell them about what is going on. I know. I know. I can see both sides of the line there but it still amazes me.

Not long after taking out the tube and keeping food down, I was building quite a bit more strength. A group of four nurses came in to my room and told me that I was going to start rehab and physical therapy. I didn’t care much to hear that at the time since I still could not move on my own. I could only move my arms and one leg. Anyway, they turned me in my bed so that my legs were hanging over one side. My legs would not bend; they stuck out there as though I were lying on a board. One nurse put her body across my thighs, one grabbed my lower legs in a bear hug and the other two got behind me placing their arms under my upper back. One, two, three and I was up and then out cold. I had passed out from the immense pain of stretching whatever it was that I had left of muscles in my the parts of my body that were moved as I was bent into a sitting position.

For a week or so, I had two therapists coming to my room each day to work on sitting with me. At first, I could get up with their assistance and hold it for a few seconds. It didn’t take too long and I was able to hold it for a while. Once I was able to hold it for a while, they started working on transfers with me. Another week later, I was able to transfer to a wheel chair with the assistance of only one person.

I couldn’t wheel myself around at all yet. I didn’t have near enough strength for that. A few tests were done on my right leg to try to figure out why it wasn’t working when every other part of my body seemed to be recovering. After the tests were done, it was determined that I would never have the use of my leg again. Actually, I was told that I would never walk again. They didn’t expect my left leg to recover enough to support weight. With their mindset, I was shipped off to University of Washington Medical Center for rehab. They figured that they would do what they could to teach me how to take care of my self and navigate the world in a wheel chair. Before I left Harborview for UW, I did go back down to visit the nurses that cared for me while I was in my coma. It was priceless to see the looks on their faces when they saw me down there in a wheel chair, alive and thinking. Remember me telling you about the lengths of time that I was dead each time. Nobody knew what I would be like when I came to. I think it was a good thing for all of us to see one another.

Now I’m at UW the fun begins?

Things didn’t get off to a good start here. Remember me telling you that I was used as a guinea pig at Harborview? It was worse here. Not only did I have doctors that didn’t know much about treating ARDS patients, I had student after student performing their own tests on me and asking the same questions over and over again each day as they made their rounds.

I also told you the outlook that Harborview provided for me, that I wouldn’t walk again. They had a good routine set for me to achieve the goals that Harborview had set out for me. They worked with me so that I could get in and out of my wheel chair by myself. Once I got that down, I was cruising in rehab. My strength was coming back and I was able to wheel myself around the room a bit and then on into the hallways and then around the hospital.

It was at this time that I learned to go to the bathroom on my own again. No more calling nurses for a bedpan and then again to come and clean me up. I can’t tell you how degrading that can be. I did still have to use a urinal though since I couldn’t get out of bed in time to make it to the toilet in my chair to go pee.

In addition to physical rehab, I saw a psychiatrist each day, had vocational rehab and other events to try to get me to be a self sufficient person so I would be able to get by on my own with my new found disabilities.

I can’t say that I cared for my vocational person too well. He would come to my room each day and ask me what I planned to do when I got out of the hospital. I would simply tell him that I planned on going back to what I did before I went to the hospital which was federal tax preparations, bookkeeping and database architecture, design and administration. After reading his report in a copy of my medical report that I got upon discharge, I found that he stated in there that I would never succeed without going back to college and getting a degree. It hurt to read that in my report. Nothing worse than those who are suppose to be helping you get better putting you down. Just a note: in my first year back at work, I figure that I made at least twice what he makes a year. Not bad for someone who he things is a loser. That was going back and doing what I did before.

Since it was a suicide attempt that brought all of this on, the insurance company that was covering the costs of all of this required that I saw a psychiatrist each day. I will get more into the psychiatrist thing later on as it has been a topic since my release when it has come to life after suicide.

I went through quite a bit of tests there at UW. They did many tests on the nerves in my back and leg to find out why it wasn’t recovering. It was determined that my back had been broken. I don’t know exactly why they say that you break your back when you actually don’t break anything, you just damage the nerves. Anyway, the nerve going to my leg (can’t recall the name of it at this time) was damaged in several areas. It was also determined that it was the fall from the couch to the floor that caused the damage. That and the lack of oxygen during my deaths that hampered the repair of those damaged areas.

After a bit of work, I started to get use of my upper right leg. They built a splint for my foot so that I wouldn’t trip on it since it would hang when I would pick up my leg to step. Before long, I was moving short distances with a walker. Vast improvement after being told that I would never walk again.

Oh, I didn’t mention my first outing when I got to UW. When I was first admitted to UW, my mom came to pay me a visit. The nurses get me in my wheel chair and my mom took me out to get a hair cut. That was such a relief for me. I asked them if they would shave me too but they didn’t want to do that. I shave my body and couldn’t stand to have the hair on me. I had to wait a few more months to have that request performed.

Another outing that I had was when my brother BG came to visit me. The medical center is about a block off of Lake Washington, next to Husky Stadium. He came in his boat and walked up to the hospital to visit with me. He got me a pass, telling the nurses that he was just taking me on a walk down to the water. I plopped out of the chair into his boat, tubes and all and squirmed my up to the front of his boat. We went cruising around the lake for a bit before he returned me to my room. I wanted to jump out of his boat so desperately and go for a swim. Couldn’t risk it with all the tubes and open wounds that I had on my body at that time.

Speaking of open wounds, I forgot to mention the gaping hole that I had in my chin when I woke from my coma. I was in a rotating bed while I was in my coma. The nurses tried proning me (placing me on my stomach) to get oxygen and blood to move about my body. During the four hours that they had me on my stomach, the rotation of bed caused my chin to rub. It rubbed away the flesh completely down to the bone. When I woke from my coma, I had a huge bandage on my chin to cover the healing hole.

Besides my brother and my mom, I had a couple friends come and visit me at UW. An old friend Tim from back when I use to work at a skating rink, my friend Dan, Tim who saved my life when all of this started and an old boss of mine, Bill. It was nice to have company once in a while. Was quite boring in there alone.

I did work hard in there to try to get better. Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse.

A few weeks prior to my scheduled release, my liver enzyme levels skyrocketed. I became a guinea pig even more than I was to begin with. My doctors couldn’t figure out what was causing it and none of the antibiotics that they tried did anything for it. I started losing my food again which caused me to get weak again. I started regressing. All my work was going down the tubes.

I passed the tests that they required for me to get out and I was released August 31^st, 1998. I had to be able to bathe myself, go to the bathroom on my own, navigate a kitchen and walk 80 feet with a walker.

I got the remaining tubes (drip bags for the hematoma) removed from my body and I was released.

It was planned for me to fly down to Las Vegas to live my parents who were, for the most part, retired and had the time to work with me. They also had a rambler, which meant that there were no steps for me to have to navigate. During the date of my release and the date of my flight, I stayed at my brother BG’s house. He had to take me to UW each day for tests and meds until I left. He had to carry me up and down his steps. I felt bad for him.

Things got worse while I was at BG’s. I was losing my food more often and losing more strength.

The day came for my flight to Vegas. I didn’t know exactly what to expect but it was for the best that I went. BG saw that I got onto the plane and my dad was waiting for me when I arrived.

Within a couple weeks of being at my dad’s, I lost so much strength that I could no longer move with my walker. I became immobile. My dad finally took me to the hospital. They took some x-rays, some blood, gave me some antibiotics to take and sent me home. I was at home for three more days before I went to see a doctor.

It didn’t take all but five minutes before the doctor located what was causing all the fuss in my body. One of the sites where I had a tube inserted into one of my buttocks was infected deep down. The doctor bent me over the table, made a small incision with a scalpel and squeezed out a solid piece of puss the size of a walnut in its shell. Everyone in the waiting area heard that one as he cut me open. It hurt.

The infection from the site was spreading throughout my body and that is what was causing the problems with my liver. My liver was already damaged enough from the drugs that I took from my overdose. The infection didn’t help it one bit.

I’m sure you can guess from the way that my luck has been going that the removal of the solid puss didn’t solve the problem. It was too late by this time. My liver decided that it was going to shut down on me. I was admitted to the hospital later that day. I had surgery performed on my left buttock where the infected site was. They had to get all infected tissue out of my body. There were two incisions about two to three inches in length and 3 inches deep made going across my buttock, one about mid way down and the other right at the top of the thigh.

I was admitted for two weeks but gained my appetite as soon the surgery was over. I haven’t had a problem with food since. I was eating a double breakfast, lunch, dinner and then again when the night shift nurses had their lunch. I even had my dad bringing in food for me in between meal times at the hospital. My appetite was back and my strength was coming back as well. My mom and my sister flew down while I was in the hospital for a few days to visit.

I mentioned how large and deep the incisions were. Since they were related to hematoma, they couldn’t just sew them up. Doing that would have caused the blood to pool again so they had to leave them open and let them heal from the inside out. Several times a day, a nurse would come in and pull out the rolls of gauze that they stuffed the open holes with and replace them with clean rolls. Each morning I got a Jacuzzi bath to clean out the wounds too.

For a couple weeks after my release, I had to return each morning for a bath and changing of the gauze. That was so painful. When at home, I had a nurse that would stop by the house to do it for a while. Once they got shallow enough, my dad took over at home and then I had enough strength that I could do it on my own.

I’m now out of the hospital, back at home and building strength. It was at this time that I got a copy of all of my medical reports, read what everyone wrote in them about me and decided to prove them all wrong. I also made a decision of my own, that no matter what amount of recover I was going to have, I was going to be no different than anybody else.

Once I set this goal, my life was changed.

As part of being normal and not different, I made the decision that I was going to walk without the aide of a walker. For the next few weeks when my parents were out playing bridge, I worked on walking across the kitchen without my walker. It was either a do or die thing since if I were to fall, I could not get myself back up. After a few weeks of doing that and nobody knowing, it was time to spring the surprise.

My parents live on the seventh hole of a golf course. When we (family) would visit my parents, we would always do a few rounds of golf. My mom would usually take out the camera and take pictures of us on the green. BG came down for his monthly visit and him and dad were out playing golf. When they made their appearance on the seventh green, my mom went out to take their pictures. Once she was outside, I made my attempt to make it out there. It took a bit but I made it all the way out. My first steps outside without a walker were caught on film.

A few more weeks of working on my walking, I was going everywhere without my walker. I had a good limp and was limited in speed and distance but I could go on small outings without it. I also made the decision not to use my brace anymore. I was going to be as normal as I could possibly be. I figured that the more that I had to work at it, the more I would do it. I wouldn’t have anything to use as an excuse except for myself.

Now that I had mobility, it was time to get caught up in technology and work on getting back to work. Since one of the side effects of ARDS that I had was a severe sleep disorder, I took advantage of my 3 waking days and 4 hours of sleep pattern. I got books galore and studied nonstop for the next few months.

When February came around, it was time to venture on my own again.

I made arrangements with an old friend of mine, Mike, to stay with them, him and his family, for a short while. As it turns out, my stay with them turned out to be one of the best things to happen.

Mike had recently suffered an injury to one of his spinal nerves and began to experience the same things that I had just gone through. It wasn’t long before he went in for surgery and had to go through the whole learning process that I went through to walk again. I’m not saying that what he went through was good. What was good about it is that now I was able to experience both sides of process. I stayed with Mike and his family for about a year when I moved in with BG.

While I was at Mike’s, I started to drive again and began to work again. Was nice to get back to work. It only took a few months before I started working my way back to the top of the field at what I did. I had offers from major corporations from around the country offering me salaries in the mid six-digit range. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t take any of them though. I chose to stay where I was, which turns out to be one of the best decisions that I have ever made.

Not too long after my return to Washington, I contacted some of my old friends. I had known these people, Lisa & Chantelle, since I was three years old. We maintained our friendships over the years and kept in contact. Anyway, when I got back up here, I called them to see what was going on and how thing were. I was invited to Lisa’s son’s second birthday party. I accepted the invite and showed up.

When I showed up at the birthday party, I saw someone in the kitchen, someone that I recognized from many years back. When I was fifteen, Lisa took her dad’s truck and came to pay me a visit at my new house. She brought a friend of her’s with her when she came to visit. This was the same person that I saw up the stairs in the kitchen.

There were quite a few people that I knew from childhood at the party. It was nice to see them and hear everyone’s stories of what has happened in the past years that we hadn’t seen one another.

I got to talking to the one that caught my eye when I walked in. Her name was Cher. I recognized her by looks but didn’t know her name when I got there. Anyway, we exchanged email addresses and continued our conversations through email after that. We found that we shared some common interests and began to talk on the phone and then spend time together in person. Cher was involved at the time so everything was kept on a friendly basis.

Another thing that I did while I was at Mike’s is I started working out regularly at a local gym. It made worlds of wonders in mobility and other areas as I built strength.

Cher invited me to spend the fourth of July with her at her parent’s house. I didn’t have anything else going on so I accepted. As she started tell me where her parents lived, it all came back to me. Uh oh. I stopped her and completed the location of her parent’s house. I can’t believe it. I use to show off in front of her house when I was in grade school. I would take my shirt off and ride wheelies on my bike up and down her street. I never approached her in grade school or junior high as I always thought that she was too pretty and out of my league. When she came to my house with Lisa that day when they took the truck, I didn’t recognize her from school. When I saw her at Lisa’s, I still didn’t remember. I only remembered that one time she came to my house. Wow, I just couldn’t believe it.

After the fourth, we started talking more. It wasn’t limited to emails now, it was four plus hours a day on the phone and in person. I knew how I felt but Cher was involved and as a friend, I could not do nor say anything to disturb her relationship. I also didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining the good friendship that we were developing. For the next year, I tried to help her with her relationship problems and she kept trying to hook me up with other girls. About half way through that year, it became quite obvious to me how I was feeling about Cher. I couldn’t go to sleep at night without talking to her first and when we would hang up, I would whisper a little ‘I love you’ in the air.

Around the end of this first year, many things were happening. Different areas of my life began to cross one another, which gave another feeling of completeness in achievement of being ‘normal’.

I mentioned briefly that I was working out. I worked out on a regular basis, two hours a day, six days a week. While working out one day I noticed someone that I use to work with at the skating rink when I was fourteen. Her name was Charity. She seemed quite surprised to see me at the gym. I didn’t think much of it but then she told me that she worked on me when I was in my coma at Harborview. She is now a nurse in the ICU where I was or something like that. I really can’t remember now.

We saw one another once in a while at the gym. One day, she told me of someone that went through most everything that I did with my ARDS and asked if I would mind going to Harborview to talk to him and his wife. I was more than happy to do so. Since coming back to Washington, I worked with people that had ARDS but it was done solely through the Internet. This would be my first ‘live’ visit with someone. I was told that his name was Steve Yarnall and given his room number at the hospital.

I went to go see him a few days later. As it turned out, I had good timing. His wife was also in present. They both had many questions about what was to come next and what I went through. Steve was funny. He kept asking over and over again about the libido, when it would come back, if at all. It was nice to see him have some humor.

I say humor about that question but it is a very important one. I will be touching on that one when I get into some stories later on in here. It is also one of the top asked questions next to questions about shaking or trembling and dreams.

A few weeks later, I received an invite to Steve’s celebration of life, a party to celebrate life. In the invite, I was asked if I would mind making a speech at his party. I have never been much of a public speaker but decided that I would. I asked Cher if she would mind accompanying me to Steve’s party. Cher accepted and we went.

I think that at this time I had a long distance relationship going with someone from Alabama. I can’t recall exactly when it began. It was mostly an Internet based relationship but we did exchange phone calls once in a while.

Not too much longer, Cher was over at my house and told me that she had something important to talk to me about. Uh oh, did I do or say something that I shouldn’t have? As it turns out, Cher confessed her feelings for me. Wow! I can’t tell you how happy I was and how much of a relief it was. I couldn’t say anything because she was in a relationship with someone, I was now in a relationship with someone and I didn’t want to mess with our friendship.

The next day, Cher told her boyfriend that it was over and how she felt for me. I confessed my feelings about Cher to the person that I had in Alabama. She told me that she knew how I felt about Cher and that she understood.

Cher and I took it a little slow and after a couple months, moved in together. We were engaged a bit later and then married earlier this year.

This pretty much brings us to where we are now. I will continue this to talk about some of the things that I went through with ARDS, continue to go through, setting and achieving of goals, prejudices and attitude.

Some of the thing that I didn’t mention in the earlier portion of my story is the problems with the nervous system, ongoing problems and the libido. I did mention the libido when I talked about my meeting with Steve and Lynn but I didn’t go into detail about that.

After waking, I had severe problems with my nervous system. My body could not regulate my heart rate, temperature, cooling system or blood pressure.

I can’t even begin to count the number of times that I had to have my sheets changed because of how much I would sweat and soak them so much that the nurses had to change them. This kept up during my entire hospital visit but I did get it under control a bit once I could move around on my own. It has only been in the last few months that I got that problem under control to where I don’t have huge pits in my shirts minutes after putting them on.

There were many times that my resting heart rate would shoot up to be well over 200 beats per minute. I don’t think I have ever seen so many doctors and nurses gather so quickly as when that would happen. When it did happen, they would shoot me up with something to try to reduce it and sit there until it went down in the event that I stroked out.

The same was true with my blood pressure. After waking, it was quite whacky as well. I now have my pressure under control with exercise and with medication when not exercising.

Due to the hematoma, I had clotting issues so I was checked several times a day to make sure that my blood was at the correct state that it needed to be at in the event that a clot was to go to my lungs or my brain. I was on medication for that for six months after moving to my parents.

I was on antidepressants for a couple months as well. Not due to the suicide but because of the pain associated with the nerve damage in my leg. Once the pain was controlled, the medication was no longer necessary.

My only lasting problems that I can really complain about are the emphysema that I now have as a result of the trauma to the lungs and the paralysis in my right leg. Through exercise and the natural healing processes of the body, I have gained most of the use of my leg back. My foot continues to be completely paralyzed at the moment. I work every day at concealing the problem so that if you were to see me now, you wouldn’t know that I had any problems with my feet or my walking. When I get tired, I do go back to a limp though. The emphysema continues to take one percent per year. I can work on my cardio endurance but there isn’t anything that can be done about the loss and nothing to slow its progress. It appears that I succeeded in my attempt but I’m making the most of what I have now.

This little part disturbs quite a bit of people. To many, it is a sensitive subject that they don’t like to discuss and others, it is just disturbing because of what happened. What am I talking about? The libido and other related issues.

When I was in the hospitals here, it almost made me sick to my stomach to even think of being with a woman or taking matters into my own hands. Besides, I had more important things to be worrying about at the time. It would have been nice to know that things still functioned properly, though, for the future.

I did try a couple times when I moved down to be with my parents. I wasn’t too responsive. Actually, I wasn’t responsive at all. I even had a difficult time thinking of sex or any of that. It wasn’t until I was in the hospital down there and gaining my strength back that I got a hint that it was back or returning anyway. I decided to give it a try. After a few hours of trying something that I could normally do on my own in less than a minute if I wanted to, I gave up. It was responding a little but not processing that response. I tried again for the next couple days. I think it was on the fourth day that I was able to finish the task at hand.

What was my reaction? I threw up and passed out.

You are probably wondering why I did that. Well, I’m going to tell you. This is where it gets disturbing.

Anyone who is active or has a connection to the Internet is familiar with the resulting matter of the male orgasm or ejaculation. Well, it wasn’t as it should have been. I was expecting the usual stuff, maybe a bit more than usual since it had been a good deal of time since I had last done it. Boy was I shocked to see what came out. It wasn’t of normal color or texture. It was just blood. I guess that is as plain as I can put it. It was pure blood. I already told you what my reaction was to that.

Since I had the surgery and open wounds, it wasn’t hard to conceal the bloody results.

I decided to wait some time before trying again. It was a few weeks later at home when I next attempted. I got the same results but this time it was a mixture of what I expected it to be and blood. I threw up again at the sight of it. I think it was just a mental thing about seeing the blood coming out of there. I got all sweaty from the adrenalin rush but I managed to keep from passing out this time. A week later, same results.

It was now time to see a doctor about the problem. As much as I didn’t want to admit that there was a problem in that department, I had to find the cause of the problem. It could prove to be a severe problem if, by chance, I was to meet someone.

After getting an exam at the doctor’s office, it was determined that I had an infection of the colon. The doctor told me that it was common for those who are very active and quits cold turkey like I did. He gave me some antibiotics for the specific problem and it was solved in a few days.

The libido has returned to normal. It actually went into over drive for a while and has found a happy medium back at where it was before all of this began.

Long story short, the libido goes due to the trauma and medications. Your body is more concerned with other issues that it has to deal with and when those are under control, it comes back. In dealing with other males, I have seen the same results. Some used devices or herbs that can be found at any adult novelty shop for stimulus and others have used Viagra until things return to normal.

In addition to setting goals of being ‘normal’, I set a few other goals. My preferred mode of transportation is by motorcycle so it was one of my goals to get back to bike riding. I tackled that goal when I moved into BG’s and bought a bike. Another goal was skydiving. I passed each level of the AFF graduate program on my first attempt at each level and am now an avid skydiver.

The most difficult thing to deal with in all of this has not been the disabilities or handicaps but has been the prejudices seen as a result of them and when someone learns that all this was brought on by attempting suicide.

Not to try to sound stuck on myself or conceited, most people’s first impressions of me are that I’m smart and everything that goes along with that. They usually look up to me and look at me for guidance.

It’s amazing how all of that is changed when they hear the word suicide. Their attitude changes and you are treated like an alcoholic. They just wait for you to fall of the wagon and take that drink. In my case, they expect me to blow my brains out.

I don’t hide the fact since I use my experiences to help others now but it has affected various parts of my life.

I would have to say that the greatest motivators of all are a positive attitude and someone to share the experiences with.

Since waking, I have kept a positive attitude no matter what was thrown my way. If I was faced with an obstacle, I did what I could do to overcome it and if I couldn’t, I accepted it and moved on. Life is far too short and too precious to waste time worrying about things or thinking of what could have been.

Cher has been my greatest motivator of all. She has been an active part of my life for almost three years now. She has been through quite a bit of my achievements and breakthroughs with me and she has seen me through things that would cause others to contemplate suicide. Through it all, I have kept a smile on my face. Why I say that it is better to have someone there is because it allows you to share your experiences, whether good or bad with someone. You know you aren’t alone and it make them more fulfilling.

I’m further blessed to have Cher as a partner because she not only provides support for the good or bad but she has experienced it all herself and knows what it is like. Cher drowned when she was eight years old. She was under water for twelve minutes before she was found. Cher spent some time in a coma and went through all the other issues that one has with ARDS. Cher wasn’t classified as having ARDS back then as it was just in the infancy stages of doctors knowing of the disease but since, doctors have described what she went through as ARDS.

This part, I can’t say enough times…

No matter what comes your way, keep a positive attitude and don’t stress. If you can tackle the obstacle, do so. If not, accept it and move on. Life is far too short and too precious to waste time worrying about things or thinking of what could have been. And… Don’t forget to smile and laugh all the way.

A short note, slightly out of place…

I mentioned that since I tried to commit suicide, everyone expects me to try it again. I neglected to mention that, that is the absolute number one question that I’m asked, “Do you wish that you succeeded?”, “Will you try it again?”, “Do you think about doing it still?”. The answers to all of those questions can be summed up easily. There has not been a single day that has gone by that I have not been thankful that I did not succeed, even with all the complications that it has caused in my life, I’m glad to be here and plan to live the rest of my natural life. I have seen where I’m going to go and even though it was the most peaceful and pleasant place I had ever been, I can wait until it is my time to go there.

Michael Weglin

12-6-01

CLOSING ADDITION

I have been hanging on to this story for the last few months deciding whether to edit it from the way that I wrote it, such as removing the sexual content and other little changes here and there.

I have decided that it is a part of the experience and that others will go through the same thing sometime in the future and the particular sections just might answer some questions for them.

Decision… Leaving the story as I originally wrote it.

There’s nothing here for me to be embarrassed about if someone were to decide to dig into my past and try to use this against me. The suicide was something that I did and something that I cannot undo. I would also say that it was the best thing that has ever happened to me because it allowed me to see life in a way that I didn’t before and I’m so much happier as a person and understanding of others that aren’t as fortunate as I am.

I would also like to note that since I am not an author and don’t have much experience in writing words to describe feelings, thoughts, emotions, events, etc., the written words here hardly reflect or describe the pain, trauma and the struggles endured by those around me and myself, this just merely describes what happened.

Michael Weglin

3-1-02