The 1/4 Million Dollar Man

"We can rebuild him. We have the technology."

Not everyone has had a near death experience by which to judge the rest of the events in their life.

I have.

On January 13, 1995, I was severly beaten by five teenagers while going to college in Pittsburgh. I was 20 years old.

I suffered a concussion and was in a coma for a week. i had to have facial reconstruction as my face had been kicked in during the beating. My head was rebuilt with resorbable plates and screws. After two weeks in intensive care I was transferred to a rehabilitation center in the suburbs of Philadelphia, closer to where my family lived.

There, I learned how to walk again, how to tie my shoes again, how to talk again, and even how to think again. I had a different therapist for every facet of my recovery.

My entire left side was completely paralyzed for a month and my hands were clenched into fists that had to be pryed open over a period of four weeks. (My left side still feels numb when I think about it. It feels like novocaine wearing off.)

I had the loving support of my family and friends. People I hadn't seen in years came to visit me in the hospital, wishing me a speedy recovery. I had a girlfriend in New Orleans and I wanted to completely recover before she came to visit. I didn't want her to see the broken me.

I was told I could be in the rehab hospital for up to six months. I was determined not to be there that long. I worked hard at getting better and was released after a month. Two days before my 21st birthday.

My hospital bills came to $250,000, which was covered by my parents' health insurance. A group of neighbors set up a recovery fund at the local bank and people from all over my hometown donated money to help me, a dollar here and a dollar there. Seven months after my beating in Pittsburgh, I moved to new Orleans to be with my girlfriend. I withdrew the money from my fund to cover the moving costs. $2,600 that had been donated anonymously by strangers and friends.

I learned later that had the ambulance been a minute late in arriving the night I was attacked, I would have probably bled to death.

It makes you think.

So, here I am, ten years later, asking myself: "Why? Why me?"

A lot of work went into saving my scrawny ass, and for what?

I have given the world nothing in return.

I was given some extra time and I've squandered it. Over the last ten years I've completely lost my way.

There have been countless times over the years that I've cursed the whole affair. I would think, "I was supposed to die on January 13, 1995, and all those people interfered!!"

I was the happiest I've ever been right then. I was in love with a wonderful girl, I had vivid dreams of the future, I had goals, I had friends. It would have been a perfect time to die. I know that sounds morbid, but I think it is better to die happy (even if you are young) than miserable and hating life.

Which is how I've become over the years. The last ten years were pretty shitty. And as a result I've been depressed a majority of the time. Everyone says that your 20s are the best time of your life and you'll never forget them. I hope that is not the case for me. I hope I'm a late bloomer and my 30s will be better, because quite frankly, my 20s sucked major ass. I'd hate to think it's all downhill from there.

When I got out of the hospital and moved to New Orleans everything seemed to start disappearing. First, the wonderful girl I was in love with, then my friends, then my dreams began to fade and I lost my passion to do anything with my life.

Each new day brought a new flaming pile of shit to my doorstep. And each day I stomped on the flames and got shit on my shoe and yelled at the heavens. I was Job being tested.
But by whom? And for what reason?

When I was a kid, my favorite show was "The Six Million Dollar Man". I even had the little action figure where you could pull back a flap of skin on his arm to see the wiring and machine parts underneath. Because he was bionic.

But Steve Austin actually did stuff with his powers, even if it was because the governmet told him he had to. I am "The Quarter Million Dollar Man" and I've done nothing. My show would be infintely boring to watch.

Maybe someday I'll have some reason to have been saved, and I'll give something back to all those people who went through the ordeal with me and pulled me through. I hope so, anyway.

Another regret is that I can't make that cool noise when I run in slow motion, which is really fast motion, but shot in slow-mo to drag out the time and make it more dramatic and fill air time because there's not much story and we have 56 minutes to fill...