TitaniumJohnny: The Crash and Journey Back to Running – PT 2

I was now in the Shock Trauma Intensive Care Unit. The first week was a whirlwind of over 20 surgeries to piece me back together. During this time, I drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to open my eyes due to severe swelling in my face and skull. I remember holding my mom’s hand and hearing my sister’s voice, but I had no sense of time passing. During this time I felt no pain, I felt calm, and at peace.

After some time, the swelling in my face and skull went down enough for me to open my eyes. I saw I was in a hospital room. My leg was damaged, as were my right arm and hand. I had a neck brace on, my mouth was wired shut, and I had a breathing tube in my neck. The Memorial Hermann staff visited often to check on me, give me medicine, clean my wounds, and more. They were amazing.

A nurse told me my ortho doctor would visit soon. I was concerned about whether I’d be able to run again after seeing my leg. I watched eagerly as the Ortho team arrived. The doctor said, “We’re your Ortho team.” Despite my wired shut jaw and breathing tube, I managed to ask, “Will I be able to run again?” The doctor smiled and said, “We’re not that Ortho team, we’re the Ortho for your Eyes.” They were surprised I could see out of my left eye, as they thought I might lose it. For now, I was only using that eye because I couldn’t fully close it due to damage to the eyelids. Using both eyes gave me double vision and made me feel sick. During this time an eyepatch was very handy.

Several Ortho teams came through. Finally, the Ortho team for my leg arrived. My eyes lit up. I asked, “Would I be able to run again?” The doctor laughed and paused before saying, “YES, but not anytime soon.” Like a true runner, I asked, “Are we talking about a couple months?” He smiled and explained how bad my leg injury was. He said if I’d been taken anywhere else, I probably would have lost my leg. I was lucky to be close to Memorial Hermann, a level 1 trauma center where I was airlifted. He told me to expect at least a year and a half before I could run again.

Before I was able to open my eyes I did have a spiritual moment. Which is not unheard of when someone has been given Ketamine.

We all have our own spiritual paths. As a Catholic, I have a strong devotion to my guardian angel and The Virgin Mary. This is the account of my first spiritual encounter during my hospital stay.

A man appeared before me. He was handsome and charming, the type you’d expect to liven up any party. The scene felt unreal, and I wondered how I got there. Something felt off. He greeted me with a friendly “Hey, how are you doing?” and reached out his hand as if to shake mine. I was standing back, so I’d need to step forward to shake his. As I started to move forward to him, he said, “Just take my hand and I’ll make this all go away.” I paused, suddenly remembering I was just previously in a hospital. I pulled back, trying to comprehend how I got there and understand what he meant by “making this all go away”. He repeated, “Just take my hand and I’ll make this all go away,” and he added, “and I’ll give you anything you want.”

I stepped back, knowing I needed to protect myself from this obvious malevolent entity. I told him, “Not interested in your offer, go shop somewhere else.” He didn’t like that. His eyes turned pitch black, and he moved towards me with his hands raised, trying to grab me. As he came closer, I kept backing away and started to pray. I began reciting the Hail Mary, and a golden veil appeared, separating me from the evil entity. He couldn’t break through it. I felt safe behind this beautiful golden curtain, like a baby in its mother’s womb. The veil became more pronounced, and I sensed a presence to my right. I couldn’t turn my head, but from the corner of my eye, I saw the Virgin Mary. She had come to my aid, the malevolent entity disappeared and I returned to my peaceful state.

As the drugs wore off, I started to feel pain. The nurses kept a close eye on me, adjusting my meds as needed. I stayed positive, but some days were harder than others. The pain would come in waves in different parts of my body, I would keep watch on the clock knowing every 6 hours I would get my pain meds and some relief. Over time that 6 hour window became more tolerable but that took months to get there.

My family and friends visited when they could. Their support meant the world to me. On tough days, just seeing a familiar face would lift my spirits and any pain I had would literally disappear.

Through it all, I held onto the memory of my spiritual encounter. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this fight. On the hardest days, when the pain seemed too much to bear, I’d close my eyes and picture that golden veil and the Virgin Mary. It gave me strength to keep pushing forward.

I knew I had a long road ahead. But I was alive, and I was getting better. That was something to be thankful for. So I took it one day at a time, one small victory at a time, knowing that someday, I’d run again. Spoiler alert! I am currently running.

More time passed and more healing. I was then transferred from the intensive care unit to the acute care unit then the skilled nursing facility where the rehab began.

But Wait There’s More In The Next Installment:

The Rehab Begins: No Pain, No Gain