Thursday, May 17, 2012
Saturday, July 25, 2009
This is an email I received I wanted to share....Common Sense is dead!
Hi everybody,John Bishop from Johnnynfl here again. This seemed so sad but true to me, just wanted to pass it on. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did. Have a great day.
An Obituary printed in the London Times
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.
An Obituary printed in the London Times
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.
He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as: Knowing when to come in out of the rain; Why the early bird gets the worm; Life isn't always fair; and maybe it was my fault.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but
overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental
consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.
He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim
Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.
If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.
If anyone can find the author, please let me know.
John Bishop
johnnynfl.com
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but
overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental
consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.
He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim
Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.
If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.
If anyone can find the author, please let me know.
John Bishop
johnnynfl.com
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Why Am I Still Here?
This is my autobiographical short story of how I almost died back in June of 2005.
A few weeks earlier my wife Nicole and I,along with Samantha, went out to dinner with the Grigsby's. Rik,Deb, their son Nathan, and the twins Sam and Allie were really the only true friends I had in Ohio since moving from Toms River,NJ in 2004. We went to a place called Marion's Pizza. I had always made fun of their pizza in Ohio, since growing up at the Jersey Shore, with some of the best pizza in the world, what they called pizza in Ohio seemed like a mixture of cardboard,sauce and cheese. There was no where you could go to even get a slice,as the pizza there was sliced into tiny little squares, and instead of being cooked in a pizza oven, were passed through some form of convection oven type device. But this night wasn't about the food, it was just about hanging out with friends and having some fun. It was the first time I had actually drank a beer in probably about a year. I used to be quite the drinker prior to meeting Nicole and Sam, but I suppose being raised by a Dad who was a coffee fiend and whom I had never seen touch an ounce of alchohol, I wanted the same kind of environment for my stepdaughter. I changed my habits greatly,even before getting married, and drank maybe 2 or 3 times a year after Nicole and I had met and decided I would be the best dad I could be for Samantha, so this really was a rare occassion for me. I remember the next day having to deal with being hungover, which also forced me to remember why I didn't like drinking much anymore to begin with. However, about 2 days later is when my whole life began to change, and I didn't even see it coming.
I woke up that Sunday with a 104 degree fever, and didn't really think much about it at the time, but noticed I was not able to,shall we say, relieve myself as I normally did either. I blew the fever off in a day or two, but my other problems persisted. I don't want to really gross anyone out, but the way I started to describe it was it was like I was "pissing out my ass". When I described this to my wife, Nicole just took it as I think anyone else would, that I had some form of diarrhea. When I look back at it now, maybe I should have been more wary, but I was literally "pissing out of my ass". There was no solid matter, and it was like urine, but me being in good health, or so I thought, I figured it would pass just as the fever did.
Well, the fever came back a few days later. I broke it again in a day or two and just figured I had gotten some sort of flu bug that was just playing games with me, but I would beat it and it would be gone just like I had always done before. I never thought that along with these other "problems" I was having it was only going to get worse. I can't remember exactly what day it started, all I can remember is waking up one day with my foot swelled up to the size of a football. Now I didn't remember hurting it in any way. I had taken Sam to the park, and played some hoops with her but didn't injure myself in any way. I was working as a sales rep for Craftmatic Adjustable Beds, and also a payment processing company called Vericomm, and while I did a lot of driving and walking, I couldn't remember getting injured there either. I also did some painting on the side for my old boss at a part time telemarketing job I had previously, but still had no clue as to why my foot had become so huge. Since breaking my fever I just figured my foot would eventually get back to normal and my other "problems" would take care of themselves as well. Hell, I was John Bishop man! I fought through crap my whole life. I became one of the toughest dudes a lot of people I had befriended ever knew. I took crap from nobody,after being a grade school wimp and progressively becoming tougher and stronger my whole life. I even became a bouncer at a local bar for a little while and felt like I could beat just about anything, or anyone, that came my way. Boy, how wrong did I turn out to be?
Back to June 4,2005. I remember jumping into the water and feeling like I almost had a heart attack.The water was FREEZING! I looked at Sam and said, "how are you able to swim in this?" She just smiled and said, "You'll get used to it Dad!" I thought yeah, and maybe I'll just die right here. I figured maybe the water would bring down the swelling in my foot though, so I swam with her for a little and then it was out of the pool and walk back to the apartment for dinner. Needless to say, my foot didn't get any better. As a matter of fact,over the last few days it seemed to keep getting worse. My other "problems",as I had described previously, were still persistent as well, but I still couldn't imagine that I could break my 104 degree fever a couple of times and not do the same with my other symptoms.
Finally, on June 5,2005 I figured it was time to give in. My foot had gotten to the point that I couldn't even walk out to the car for Nicole to take me to the hospital. I felt like a fool having to call an ambulance for such a thing, but I figured at this point something had to be done. Nothing seemed to be getting better so the ambulance came and off I went. What was in store for my wife when she got to the hospital was possibly even worse than my own experience, and our relationship, mostly because of the attitude I would take on, would never really be the same. As I get further into the details, I just want to say that there is a lot I don't remember. Nicole was there for all of the experience, but due to my situation, I had to rely on her details for much of what was to come. I will be telling my side of things, but some of the following may be best described by what I got from her, and that will be pointed out when I get to those instances. Get ready, because here we go.
At first, we were all wondering if my foot could have swollen from a spider bite. They do have some huge spiders,wolf spiders, out there in Ohio. I remember when we moved into the first house we were renting when we first moved to Ohio, and I was in the basement. One of these things crawled out from under a box. I stepped on this freak of an insect, and when I lifted my foot, to my chagrin, the thing jumped! I realized then this was no normal spider and when I buried it beneath my sneaker again had to grind my foot and actually push and smush this sucker to make it die. Anyway, it was determined not to be caused by any insect bite, and so my foot was still a mystery. But at this point, my foot was only one of many worries.
While being tested for all kinds of things, it was determined my blood pressure was now 70/20. I had lost all of my bodily functions, the fever had come back, and they decided I needed to be catheritized. Having a cathiter inserted in you is not a pleasant feeling, but with all the probing and prodding they were doing to almost every part of my body, it was just another shot of pain I was having to endure. At this point there were 4-5 doctors in the room and none of them could figure out what was going on. One of them questioned me, and his questions soon became more like accusations, about me being an intravenous drug user. Needless to say, no matter what state I was in, this made me really angry. Never in my life had I ever touched any types of drugs. Ok, so I smoked some weed and had drank alchohol for many years, but never in my life had I done anything else. NEVER!
This is about the time when Nicole had arrived and had to witness me screaming at this doctor and threatening him that I would "get out of this bed and kick his ass" if he didn't stop with these ridiculous accusations. Of course, once they talked to her they had confirmed I was telling the truth and that doctor did say he was sorry, but a lot of the symptoms I had is what he has seen in these intravenous drug users.
Well, he then goes on to question if I had been cheating on my wife and caught something from someone I was with. Again, I know this happens a lot, but I was appalled. After getting through this battle, I can remember all these doctors standing around discussing what was going on with me and trying to figure out what to do. One of them had told me if I hadn't come in and had stayed home and gone to bed that night, I would not have woken up. Obviously, this was more than just a swollen foot.
At this point I now had needles being inserted into my arms regularly and was hooked up with intravenous wires. This infection that was in my foot had actually now devastated my whole body and there was no time to waste. The problem was it was something apparently none of these doctors could figure out, so they really didn't know where to begin. I was so drugged up at this point, I can't remember much, but I do remember making it to the next day. This is where the real fun began.
After much deliberation, it was still undetermined what the cause of my ill-fated situation was. I was whisked off to have an MRI. Anyone who has had one will tell you this is not a pleasant experience. I was taken to a room and inserted into a long tube where I was told I could not move anything or they would have to start over. With the swelling in my foot and the knee problems I had for years previous to this, this was no easy task. Somehow I managed but although they said it would only take a few minutes, I was in this thing for about 45 minutes, and the pain was almost unbearable. The main thing that gets to you during this MRI session,however,seems to be the noise. There is a persistent LOUD clicking sound and trust me, it is enough to almost make you lose your mind. Some time around then, although I can't remember exactly when it was, it was determined that I had gone septic, which means my whole body was shutting down.
Petekia had now developed on my leg and my whole foot, as well as some toes on my other foot, had turned gross and black. This is when I had to sign a waiver to have my leg amputated from just below the knee. While highly drugged, I was still aware of most of what was going on, and while the thought did cross my mind, my wife was told to contact my family and friends, as it didn't look as though I was going to be alive much longer, but I don't remember anyone ever mentioning this to me. I have little memories of my own after this point, other than the Nurse Ratched moment.
Yes, anyone that has read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest remembers this evil lady, right? Well, that's what it was like for me when I was being wheeled in to get my leg amputated. Being highly drugged but still being semi-aware of what was happening, I remember looking up at the nurse or intern that was wheeling me into the operating room and stating "look, I know I signed the waiver, but I would appreciate it if you could do whatever you can to save my leg". Still to this day I can hear that nurse or doctor's voice, whoever she was. Just before I was going under all I could here was her saying,"but he signed the waiver, we have to take it off". To my recollection, I know she stated this at least 2 times, and then I was out. I wouldn't open my eyes again for almost 10 days.
After being in the finance industry and doing consumer loans and mortgages, and becoming one of the best collection reps/managers that everyone wanted working for them, I never really seemed to rebound after being downsized by American General Finance in 2002. I had started in this industry in 1989 with Beneficial Finance and it didn't take long for me to make it known that I would be a valuable asset to any company that wanted me. My first month there I was put in charge of the mortgage refinance program and ended up putting an extra million dollars on the books for the company in my first month. From there I became known as the "Terminator" for my superior collection skills and the fact that I could find people wherever they would run to try and get them to make good on their debt. I was sought after by other companies and had always taken a better offer if I decided to leave and work somewhere else. I was, as one person put it, relentless in my work effort, and even had received a perfect attendance award from Avco one year. However, after AGI had bought out American General and they decided to close the collection center, I found myself looking for work, even though I was told there would be room for me in a local branch by our Vice President at the time I had decided to take the position at the service center.
I only bring this up because at the time I was in the hospital, I was again out of work. Nothing seemed to work out for me after this AGI thing, and my outlook on corporate America had been changed forever. I had kept searching for a workplace to call home, but seemed to end up running into nothing but dishonest business owners and people that wanted you to lie to make a living, and that just wasn't me. I had just left CraftMatic Adjustable Beds when this happened to me, and had interviews set up with some very good opportunities the following week, but was now in a fight for my life, and didn't mind losing.
As I lied there dying, as I stated before at the beginning of this piece, I felt at peace. I had felt like I had done what I could with the life I had chosen and been given, and felt as though death was where I was now meant to be. No more dealing with bills. No more traffic,worrying about work,supporting a family. No more having to deal with the insaneness of this world that I really didn't feel to be a part of anymore anyway. Watching all these news stories of people killing other people, psycho's killing and raping children, people bombing other people because they have different religious views, and all the other insanity in this world we live in today. It was all over, and to me I was happy with that. Friends and family may mourn, but time heals the wounds, and someday they themselves would find peace as well.
I didn't know that I was in a coma for almost 10 days. During that time I was told I had several mini-strokes and had to be revived a few times. I really don't know how to describe it, other than freaky and weird at times, but mostly peaceful. The things you dream when your in a state like this you really can't make sense of, but it was an experience to say the least. I wonder if I got to experience what hell really is, or if it was just a dream. Snakes seemed to be prevalent at times. In one instance, it was my job,on the beach somewhere, to dive into a pit of quicksand and catch snakes for people. They would pay me after I went down and fished one out for them. On another occassion I was with my brother for some reason and we were in a swamp surrounded by snakes, and we would have to climb trees and watch the ground below us while moving to avoid them. Hey, I wish I could make this crap up, but this is just stuff I remember from when I was comatose.
I also have not been a big God fan in probably about 30 years, so I don't even know where this came from, but I had one vision where my friend Rik,the one from Ohio that I had told you about earlier, and I were on flying horses leading a batallion of angels into war against Satan and an army of demons. That's really about all I can remember, other than the peacefulness, that comes to mind when I think about my experience between life and death. Oh, there was one more thing.
As I said, I have had issues with God but I do not judge anyone for their beliefs. This experience however did make me feel like at least there may be a God. I still have major issues with how I feel a true loving God treats his people and a lot of the beliefs that were instilled upon me through 12 years of Catholic school, but I do have to say this. I COULD FEEL THE PRAYERS. Trust me when I tell you this, people. I pray no one has to have an experience such as the one I have been through, but when I was in that state where you are bordering on life and death, I knew that people were praying for me. I have a lot of Aunts and Uncle's. My mother came from a family of ten, and God rest her soul, she is the only one to have left this world so far. All of them, as far as I know, are devout Catholics, and many of my friends are as well. I just want to let you know, especially if you happen to be one of the people reading this, I really could feel your prayers. Strange as it may sound,especially coming from someone who is not quite the believer a lot of people I know are, you may have saved me. I can't really put into words what it feels like, and I really don't think it is really something you can describe. It's not like your lying there and you here people or anything like that, but it's just a feeling you get. You feel it. You feel the love that people have for you. You feel the urgency of them wanting you to remain a part of this world. You feel the bond of people praying for a common goal. It embraces you, and it makes you know that there are people who love you, and who care, no matter how often they see you or how well they've known you through the years, you can feel the power of their efforts, and to this fact I will attest to until I finally do expire. I never would have believed it, but I experienced it first hand, and I know that this is true.
They say that you are aware of your surroundings when you are in a coma, but I did not find this to be the case. Maybe it was due to the fact I was in and out of life and death, what with the mini-strokes and having to be revived and all that, I don't know. All I can say is I wasn't aware of anything until I came out of it. And when I did it was shocking, mixed in with both disappointment and relief all at the same time.
I had also noticed that besides the tube down my throat and the tubes that seemed to be protruding from everywhere, I had been basically tied down. I was told it was because I had been thrashing around so badly that had they not taken precautions I could have been in an even worse position. I was told my body had swollen so badly that no one thought I would survive, but here I was, opening my eyes and wondering what would I do now?
As I said, when I thought I was dead, I felt I was in peace. When I awoke, and I know this could be hard to believe, I didn't feel as happy to be alive as everyone would have thought. I was later informed that I had been given an experimental drug called Zygrest that only works on 1 out of every 16 people. Guess I was the one, with 15 others whom the drug didn't work on now no longer a part of this world. Why I was still here, while most people who were treated with the same problems I had weren't, is still a mystery to this day, but at this point all I wanted was to quench my thirst!
I was dying for some Orange Gatorade. Trying to communicate that,however,was a whole different problem. Since I wasn't able to talk with this tube sticking down my throat, I tried to make motions with my hands to try and write something down. That took a while too, however,since my arms along with every other part of my body were very weak. You don't know how happy I was when I was finally able to get the message down, but trying to get something to drink into the side of your mouth when there is a tube in there is another entirely frustrating escapade. It turns out that,according to a few of the doctors, the Gatorade was part of the reason I may have been there in the first place. There are certain ingredients in Gatorade that are specifically in there to replace things that you lose when you sweat. When you drink a lot of this and aren't really being active, these chemicals could be harmful to the way your system processes your urine and could cause problems. So a little advice for all you Gatorade lovers out there, make sure if you drink a lot of it, your sweating enough to keep your processes healthy.
Finally, after about 3 or 4 days, they were able to remove the tube from my mouth. It was still hard trying to talk and took me probably around a week to be able to talk even close to normally again. I could not eat much, and I was only allowed to have about a quart of liquid a day, and at first mostly was only allowed to have ice chips. It's amazing how sore and cracked your lips get when you aren't able to drink. This was one of the most annoying parts of my recovery and I still seem to have problems with this from time to time even now.
Soon after my awakening I had to have another catheter sewn into my chest. I have to say, I don't know what the drug was they gave me for that surgery, but I would take some more of it whenever they wanted! I felt l like I was floating and felt no pain, and I remember that surgery as one of my favorites, if there can be such a thing.
After that I was scheduled for dialysis. Let me say this....if you know anyone or you yourself have ever been on dialysis, it is one of the worst experiences you can have to deal with. Though the nurses in the dialysis station were very good and also nice people, the experience is not something anyone can look forward to. Kidney failure is scary. You can't pee and you can't do anything else. I have to be honest, the thought of having to deal with this for the rest of my life was scary, and probably the thing I fought hardest to get back from the time I was told what was happening. It would take me a while to get back to a functioning human being, but the question of "Why Am I still Here?" would linger for a long,long time.
It was a couple of weeks before I was moved from intensive care to a regular care room. Getting dialysis treatments every other day, still being tested and hooked up to intravenous tubes, not being able to eat and only being able to drink minimal amounts of liquid and also ice chips, getting blood taken for tests almost every day....it was hell, and the feeling that you would be better off dead is a hard one to overcome. My rehab was going to be a long hard road, but it was something that had to be done. I had a physical therapist working with me to try and move my arms and legs again. I had gone from weighing roughly around 215 pounds down to about 140. My body and mind were devastated, and there were many more obstacles to overcome than anyone ever would have imagined when I first entered Good Samaritan Hospital on June 5,2005. Slowly but surely my recovery would begin.
The physical therapist had gotten me to be able to at least shuffle myself around, but I could not even stand,never mind walk, for a period of more than a couple of minutes. I had taught myself to eat again, and my speech was still a bit slow, but people could at least understand what I was saying. I had lost the hearing in my left ear, and would be on dialysis 2-3 times a week. Nicole would have to dress the wounds on my foot for about a month or so after I came out of the hospital, and that was not a pleasant job I must say. The cuts were so deep you could almost see down to the bone, and the bandages had to be changed and my cuts cleaned twice a day. I'll never forget the look on some of my neighbors faces when I returned from the hospital. The looks in their eyes when Nicole had to help me get out of the car, and then watch me try to make it to my apartment with my walker, were ones of what seemed like fear and pity combined. These looks would continue every time I had to go out for a doctor's appointment,or another test, and I have to tell you, it makes you understand what some handicapped people must have to live with everyday. It is not fun being stared at wherever you go, but most times you don't even have the energy to care.
Everyday my attitude seemed to get worse. How was I supposed to live like this? Never again would I be able to play soccer with Samantha.It would be a long time before I would even be able to drive to even take her anywhere. How was Nicole supposed to pay the bills without my help? Sure, I applied for social security but the government really could care less about your families situation,trust me. Other than my medical care, we would get absolutely no help from them, and being out of work at the time was as unfortunate as it could get. The whole time what was eating me up inside was the fact that Samantha, who truly is one of the best kids you would ever meet, would have to miss out on things now as well. Sometimes folks, it is harder to be alive than dead.
Prior to my life threatening experience,most people would likely tell you I was one of the nicest people they knew. I got along with just about everyone. My friends used to even tease me when we would go out, because it seemed like wherever I went I would run into someone else that I knew. They would always bust my chops and say
"Dude, you should run for Mayor. Do you know everyone in this town?" I guess it was just the way I was raised, but I did seem to get along with most people. Even after the way I was treated by AGI after putting up numbers no one had ever come close to in their collection department, I always had the confidence and where with all to push on and never really worried about work, because I knew I would always find something. Boy, did things change.
I feel horrible for the way I even treated my wife and Samantha when I returned from the hospital, but that was nothing compared to people who didn't know me. I just didn't want to be bothered. Let me just say this, when you feel worthless and weak your whole attitude changes. I no longer even wanted to get along with everyone. All I wanted was to go back in time and be a body in a casket. I would curse and give attitude to social workers,doctors,security guards,secretaries, or whoever was on the phone. I would continually tell my wife she should have let me die. Every time I looked at Sam I would feel like she would be better off with a new Dad. People think you should be grateful for still being alive, but what kind of life do you really have?
The doctors and nurses and some other staff at the hospital used to call me "the miracle patient" because no one could believe I had survived. Then, another "miracle" happened about a month after I left the hospital when my functions came back and I no longer needed to go to dialysis. As I had mentioned previously, that was no picnic, and after my release I had to have treatments at a dialysis center. There are not many places on the face of the earth more depressing than this. We all just sat there in our chairs, hooked up to our machines, and to listen to some of the noises some of these poor people made was practically enough to drive you insane. This is truly something no one would even wish on their worst enemy, and to find out I had beat it and never had to go back made my attitude change for the better, at least for a day. Yet the question still haunted me,Why am I still here?
I had beat the odds and was still alive, and would never take for granted the simple act of going to the bathroom ever again. The rest of me was still a mess though. Post traumatic stress syndrome was hitting me hard, and this was just another thing to deal with on top of everything else. I was still getting physical therapy 2 times a week in my home, and was downing as much liquid as I was allowed to consume since being on a ration in the hospital. I was drinking Pepsi a lot, and enjoyed Iced Tea as well as regular tea, but within a month this would put me back into the hospital again.
I thought maybe this would finally be the end. This time it was my stomach that put me there. I had had ulcers before when I lived in New Jersey, but the doctors there could never find a real cause and things had always cleared up from the prescriptions they gave me. However, I would always continue to have stomach problems. I had always complained that it seemed to get worse when I drank a lot of coffee, but these doctors would always tell me that had nothing to do with it. Well, I guess I'm lucky I moved to Ohio! Dr.Khan from Good Sam had finally figured out what was wrong after all these years. I was allergic to caffeine! Gee, do you think that could have something to do with me getting sick after drinking a lot of coffee? That just backed up my theory that had I not moved to Ohio, and been forced to go to Community here in Toms River with my "swollen foot", I likely would have had no chance of survival. Just my luck, wrong place,wrong time. Had I stayed in NJ I could have been in peace and not had to worry about the problems of survival.
After seeing another doctor after I had been out of the hospital and off of dialysis, it was determined that due to the hairs in my ear, my hearing would never come back. The nerve damage in my left hand which I had gotten from all the needles that were being poked in me would never go away either, but in time would not be a bother. It took me almost 3 years to be able to walk without the support of at least a cane, and the pain in my foot from the surgery still comes and goes. For most people, you would think something like this could make their faith stronger. For me, it was just like God wants to torture me some more. Maybe he's having a good laugh, maybe he just doesn't care, or maybe he doesn't even exist. I thought that perhaps I was alive to write some new songs that could inspire people and maybe influence people to tolerate and get along with each other better. I thought maybe I was still here to continue to help my stepdaughter grow and continue to be the really good person she has turned out to be. I thought maybe even my wife Nicole and I would have a closer relationship and something like this would make her a better person and more responsible.
While Sam is still a great teenager who has a lot of values and morals you don't see a lot in people her age anymore,the relationship between Nicole and I only became worse over time. While she may be a more responsible person than if this had never happened, it still was not enough for us to stay together. I don't blame her at all for wanting me to leave, and it likely should have happened a long time ago, but to me it just showed me how people don't take the whole marriage thing as seriously as it used to be, and how selfishness is a trait that can be a hard one to change. While I have written some great new material, I still don't have the resources to do anything about it, so I guess my theory about my music is out as well. I have worked hard to try and make something of myself by working online, both with my own website as well as promoting others, but that has not been working out either. With my physical limitations getting better, although they will never be the same, the toughest battle is trying to fight through the mentality of who I am now and the options that I have. Depression and PTSD have taken a toll on many people, and I never believed the effect they could have until now. Everyday you feel worthless. Everyday you search for answers. Everyday you wake up and wonder why......Why am I still here? I hope I can find the answer soon.
John Bishop
Johnnynfl
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Why am I still here?
Chapter 1-The beginning
It was June 4,2005. A seemingly ordinary bright,blue-skied,hot and humid day in Englewood,Ohio. The thing was that this day seemed as if it could be the beginning of something new. My confidence in myself was always good, and I felt there were nothing but brighter days ahead. Little did I know after taking Sam, my stepdaughter, to the pool for a little swim and cooling off, it would possibly be the last time we would enjoy this pleasure together ever again.A few weeks earlier my wife Nicole and I,along with Samantha, went out to dinner with the Grigsby's. Rik,Deb, their son Nathan, and the twins Sam and Allie were really the only true friends I had in Ohio since moving from Toms River,NJ in 2004. We went to a place called Marion's Pizza. I had always made fun of their pizza in Ohio, since growing up at the Jersey Shore, with some of the best pizza in the world, what they called pizza in Ohio seemed like a mixture of cardboard,sauce and cheese. There was no where you could go to even get a slice,as the pizza there was sliced into tiny little squares, and instead of being cooked in a pizza oven, were passed through some form of convection oven type device. But this night wasn't about the food, it was just about hanging out with friends and having some fun. It was the first time I had actually drank a beer in probably about a year. I used to be quite the drinker prior to meeting Nicole and Sam, but I suppose being raised by a Dad who was a coffee fiend and whom I had never seen touch an ounce of alchohol, I wanted the same kind of environment for my stepdaughter. I changed my habits greatly,even before getting married, and drank maybe 2 or 3 times a year after Nicole and I had met and decided I would be the best dad I could be for Samantha, so this really was a rare occassion for me. I remember the next day having to deal with being hungover, which also forced me to remember why I didn't like drinking much anymore to begin with. However, about 2 days later is when my whole life began to change, and I didn't even see it coming.
I woke up that Sunday with a 104 degree fever, and didn't really think much about it at the time, but noticed I was not able to,shall we say, relieve myself as I normally did either. I blew the fever off in a day or two, but my other problems persisted. I don't want to really gross anyone out, but the way I started to describe it was it was like I was "pissing out my ass". When I described this to my wife, Nicole just took it as I think anyone else would, that I had some form of diarrhea. When I look back at it now, maybe I should have been more wary, but I was literally "pissing out of my ass". There was no solid matter, and it was like urine, but me being in good health, or so I thought, I figured it would pass just as the fever did.
Well, the fever came back a few days later. I broke it again in a day or two and just figured I had gotten some sort of flu bug that was just playing games with me, but I would beat it and it would be gone just like I had always done before. I never thought that along with these other "problems" I was having it was only going to get worse. I can't remember exactly what day it started, all I can remember is waking up one day with my foot swelled up to the size of a football. Now I didn't remember hurting it in any way. I had taken Sam to the park, and played some hoops with her but didn't injure myself in any way. I was working as a sales rep for Craftmatic Adjustable Beds, and also a payment processing company called Vericomm, and while I did a lot of driving and walking, I couldn't remember getting injured there either. I also did some painting on the side for my old boss at a part time telemarketing job I had previously, but still had no clue as to why my foot had become so huge. Since breaking my fever I just figured my foot would eventually get back to normal and my other "problems" would take care of themselves as well. Hell, I was John Bishop man! I fought through crap my whole life. I became one of the toughest dudes a lot of people I had befriended ever knew. I took crap from nobody,after being a grade school wimp and progressively becoming tougher and stronger my whole life. I even became a bouncer at a local bar for a little while and felt like I could beat just about anything, or anyone, that came my way. Boy, how wrong did I turn out to be?
Back to June 4,2005. I remember jumping into the water and feeling like I almost had a heart attack.The water was FREEZING! I looked at Sam and said, "how are you able to swim in this?" She just smiled and said, "You'll get used to it Dad!" I thought yeah, and maybe I'll just die right here. I figured maybe the water would bring down the swelling in my foot though, so I swam with her for a little and then it was out of the pool and walk back to the apartment for dinner. Needless to say, my foot didn't get any better. As a matter of fact,over the last few days it seemed to keep getting worse. My other "problems",as I had described previously, were still persistent as well, but I still couldn't imagine that I could break my 104 degree fever a couple of times and not do the same with my other symptoms.
Finally, on June 5,2005 I figured it was time to give in. My foot had gotten to the point that I couldn't even walk out to the car for Nicole to take me to the hospital. I felt like a fool having to call an ambulance for such a thing, but I figured at this point something had to be done. Nothing seemed to be getting better so the ambulance came and off I went. What was in store for my wife when she got to the hospital was possibly even worse than my own experience, and our relationship, mostly because of the attitude I would take on, would never really be the same. As I get further into the details, I just want to say that there is a lot I don't remember. Nicole was there for all of the experience, but due to my situation, I had to rely on her details for much of what was to come. I will be telling my side of things, but some of the following may be best described by what I got from her, and that will be pointed out when I get to those instances. Get ready, because here we go.
Why Am I here? Chapter 2
The hospital
The ambulance arrived to drive me to the hospital so I could have someone look at my foot. I was in good spirits when the paramedics picked me up, and was cracking jokes with two of them the whole time we were in the back of the ambulance together. They really weren't saying much about my condition, just saying that I did need to see a doctor. I don't remember what my blood pressure or anything else was at the time, and really don't even remember anything up until the point of actually being in a hospital bed surrounded by doctors.At first, we were all wondering if my foot could have swollen from a spider bite. They do have some huge spiders,wolf spiders, out there in Ohio. I remember when we moved into the first house we were renting when we first moved to Ohio, and I was in the basement. One of these things crawled out from under a box. I stepped on this freak of an insect, and when I lifted my foot, to my chagrin, the thing jumped! I realized then this was no normal spider and when I buried it beneath my sneaker again had to grind my foot and actually push and smush this sucker to make it die. Anyway, it was determined not to be caused by any insect bite, and so my foot was still a mystery. But at this point, my foot was only one of many worries.
While being tested for all kinds of things, it was determined my blood pressure was now 70/20. I had lost all of my bodily functions, the fever had come back, and they decided I needed to be catheritized. Having a cathiter inserted in you is not a pleasant feeling, but with all the probing and prodding they were doing to almost every part of my body, it was just another shot of pain I was having to endure. At this point there were 4-5 doctors in the room and none of them could figure out what was going on. One of them questioned me, and his questions soon became more like accusations, about me being an intravenous drug user. Needless to say, no matter what state I was in, this made me really angry. Never in my life had I ever touched any types of drugs. Ok, so I smoked some weed and had drank alchohol for many years, but never in my life had I done anything else. NEVER!
This is about the time when Nicole had arrived and had to witness me screaming at this doctor and threatening him that I would "get out of this bed and kick his ass" if he didn't stop with these ridiculous accusations. Of course, once they talked to her they had confirmed I was telling the truth and that doctor did say he was sorry, but a lot of the symptoms I had is what he has seen in these intravenous drug users.
Well, he then goes on to question if I had been cheating on my wife and caught something from someone I was with. Again, I know this happens a lot, but I was appalled. After getting through this battle, I can remember all these doctors standing around discussing what was going on with me and trying to figure out what to do. One of them had told me if I hadn't come in and had stayed home and gone to bed that night, I would not have woken up. Obviously, this was more than just a swollen foot.
At this point I now had needles being inserted into my arms regularly and was hooked up with intravenous wires. This infection that was in my foot had actually now devastated my whole body and there was no time to waste. The problem was it was something apparently none of these doctors could figure out, so they really didn't know where to begin. I was so drugged up at this point, I can't remember much, but I do remember making it to the next day. This is where the real fun began.
After much deliberation, it was still undetermined what the cause of my ill-fated situation was. I was whisked off to have an MRI. Anyone who has had one will tell you this is not a pleasant experience. I was taken to a room and inserted into a long tube where I was told I could not move anything or they would have to start over. With the swelling in my foot and the knee problems I had for years previous to this, this was no easy task. Somehow I managed but although they said it would only take a few minutes, I was in this thing for about 45 minutes, and the pain was almost unbearable. The main thing that gets to you during this MRI session,however,seems to be the noise. There is a persistent LOUD clicking sound and trust me, it is enough to almost make you lose your mind. Some time around then, although I can't remember exactly when it was, it was determined that I had gone septic, which means my whole body was shutting down.
Petekia had now developed on my leg and my whole foot, as well as some toes on my other foot, had turned gross and black. This is when I had to sign a waiver to have my leg amputated from just below the knee. While highly drugged, I was still aware of most of what was going on, and while the thought did cross my mind, my wife was told to contact my family and friends, as it didn't look as though I was going to be alive much longer, but I don't remember anyone ever mentioning this to me. I have little memories of my own after this point, other than the Nurse Ratched moment.
Yes, anyone that has read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest remembers this evil lady, right? Well, that's what it was like for me when I was being wheeled in to get my leg amputated. Being highly drugged but still being semi-aware of what was happening, I remember looking up at the nurse or intern that was wheeling me into the operating room and stating "look, I know I signed the waiver, but I would appreciate it if you could do whatever you can to save my leg". Still to this day I can hear that nurse or doctor's voice, whoever she was. Just before I was going under all I could here was her saying,"but he signed the waiver, we have to take it off". To my recollection, I know she stated this at least 2 times, and then I was out. I wouldn't open my eyes again for almost 10 days.
Why Am I still Here-Chapter 3
Death and prayers
Peace...Tranquility...Silence. The peacefulness of death had come over me, or so I had thought. No more worries. Your gone. All that is left now is to, how do they sum it up,rest in peace. I was okay with that. I think the only thing that kept me fighting even a little bit was the thought of my stepdaughter now having to live without me. You see, to myself and to my wife, I felt I had become a failure.After being in the finance industry and doing consumer loans and mortgages, and becoming one of the best collection reps/managers that everyone wanted working for them, I never really seemed to rebound after being downsized by American General Finance in 2002. I had started in this industry in 1989 with Beneficial Finance and it didn't take long for me to make it known that I would be a valuable asset to any company that wanted me. My first month there I was put in charge of the mortgage refinance program and ended up putting an extra million dollars on the books for the company in my first month. From there I became known as the "Terminator" for my superior collection skills and the fact that I could find people wherever they would run to try and get them to make good on their debt. I was sought after by other companies and had always taken a better offer if I decided to leave and work somewhere else. I was, as one person put it, relentless in my work effort, and even had received a perfect attendance award from Avco one year. However, after AGI had bought out American General and they decided to close the collection center, I found myself looking for work, even though I was told there would be room for me in a local branch by our Vice President at the time I had decided to take the position at the service center.
I only bring this up because at the time I was in the hospital, I was again out of work. Nothing seemed to work out for me after this AGI thing, and my outlook on corporate America had been changed forever. I had kept searching for a workplace to call home, but seemed to end up running into nothing but dishonest business owners and people that wanted you to lie to make a living, and that just wasn't me. I had just left CraftMatic Adjustable Beds when this happened to me, and had interviews set up with some very good opportunities the following week, but was now in a fight for my life, and didn't mind losing.
As I lied there dying, as I stated before at the beginning of this piece, I felt at peace. I had felt like I had done what I could with the life I had chosen and been given, and felt as though death was where I was now meant to be. No more dealing with bills. No more traffic,worrying about work,supporting a family. No more having to deal with the insaneness of this world that I really didn't feel to be a part of anymore anyway. Watching all these news stories of people killing other people, psycho's killing and raping children, people bombing other people because they have different religious views, and all the other insanity in this world we live in today. It was all over, and to me I was happy with that. Friends and family may mourn, but time heals the wounds, and someday they themselves would find peace as well.
I didn't know that I was in a coma for almost 10 days. During that time I was told I had several mini-strokes and had to be revived a few times. I really don't know how to describe it, other than freaky and weird at times, but mostly peaceful. The things you dream when your in a state like this you really can't make sense of, but it was an experience to say the least. I wonder if I got to experience what hell really is, or if it was just a dream. Snakes seemed to be prevalent at times. In one instance, it was my job,on the beach somewhere, to dive into a pit of quicksand and catch snakes for people. They would pay me after I went down and fished one out for them. On another occassion I was with my brother for some reason and we were in a swamp surrounded by snakes, and we would have to climb trees and watch the ground below us while moving to avoid them. Hey, I wish I could make this crap up, but this is just stuff I remember from when I was comatose.
I also have not been a big God fan in probably about 30 years, so I don't even know where this came from, but I had one vision where my friend Rik,the one from Ohio that I had told you about earlier, and I were on flying horses leading a batallion of angels into war against Satan and an army of demons. That's really about all I can remember, other than the peacefulness, that comes to mind when I think about my experience between life and death. Oh, there was one more thing.
As I said, I have had issues with God but I do not judge anyone for their beliefs. This experience however did make me feel like at least there may be a God. I still have major issues with how I feel a true loving God treats his people and a lot of the beliefs that were instilled upon me through 12 years of Catholic school, but I do have to say this. I COULD FEEL THE PRAYERS. Trust me when I tell you this, people. I pray no one has to have an experience such as the one I have been through, but when I was in that state where you are bordering on life and death, I knew that people were praying for me. I have a lot of Aunts and Uncle's. My mother came from a family of ten, and God rest her soul, she is the only one to have left this world so far. All of them, as far as I know, are devout Catholics, and many of my friends are as well. I just want to let you know, especially if you happen to be one of the people reading this, I really could feel your prayers. Strange as it may sound,especially coming from someone who is not quite the believer a lot of people I know are, you may have saved me. I can't really put into words what it feels like, and I really don't think it is really something you can describe. It's not like your lying there and you here people or anything like that, but it's just a feeling you get. You feel it. You feel the love that people have for you. You feel the urgency of them wanting you to remain a part of this world. You feel the bond of people praying for a common goal. It embraces you, and it makes you know that there are people who love you, and who care, no matter how often they see you or how well they've known you through the years, you can feel the power of their efforts, and to this fact I will attest to until I finally do expire. I never would have believed it, but I experienced it first hand, and I know that this is true.
They say that you are aware of your surroundings when you are in a coma, but I did not find this to be the case. Maybe it was due to the fact I was in and out of life and death, what with the mini-strokes and having to be revived and all that, I don't know. All I can say is I wasn't aware of anything until I came out of it. And when I did it was shocking, mixed in with both disappointment and relief all at the same time.
Why Am I Still Here? Chapter 4
The Awakening
"Mr.Bishop? John? Do you know what day it is? " It was the voice of my nurse,Devon. Her and another nurse named Brian were my two main caregivers while I was intensive care, and were two of the best nurses, and people, you could ever meet. It was June 15, but of course I had no clue. There was also the fact that I couldn't really answer her if I wanted to. When I awoke I had a large tube going down my throat. There were all kinds of tubes coming out of my body and all kinds of machines hooked up to me. I slowly opened my eyes and tried to focus on what was going on and the people around me. Once I was able to gather my senses I realized my leg was still there. They had a surgeon, who turned out to be an angel named Dr. Pecchione, cut open and drain the poison out of my foot, thus being able to leave my foot intact. This doctor was a beautiful person, both inside and out, and turned out to be one of the main people to get me through my ordeal both when I was in the hospital and when I was released.I had also noticed that besides the tube down my throat and the tubes that seemed to be protruding from everywhere, I had been basically tied down. I was told it was because I had been thrashing around so badly that had they not taken precautions I could have been in an even worse position. I was told my body had swollen so badly that no one thought I would survive, but here I was, opening my eyes and wondering what would I do now?
As I said, when I thought I was dead, I felt I was in peace. When I awoke, and I know this could be hard to believe, I didn't feel as happy to be alive as everyone would have thought. I was later informed that I had been given an experimental drug called Zygrest that only works on 1 out of every 16 people. Guess I was the one, with 15 others whom the drug didn't work on now no longer a part of this world. Why I was still here, while most people who were treated with the same problems I had weren't, is still a mystery to this day, but at this point all I wanted was to quench my thirst!
I was dying for some Orange Gatorade. Trying to communicate that,however,was a whole different problem. Since I wasn't able to talk with this tube sticking down my throat, I tried to make motions with my hands to try and write something down. That took a while too, however,since my arms along with every other part of my body were very weak. You don't know how happy I was when I was finally able to get the message down, but trying to get something to drink into the side of your mouth when there is a tube in there is another entirely frustrating escapade. It turns out that,according to a few of the doctors, the Gatorade was part of the reason I may have been there in the first place. There are certain ingredients in Gatorade that are specifically in there to replace things that you lose when you sweat. When you drink a lot of this and aren't really being active, these chemicals could be harmful to the way your system processes your urine and could cause problems. So a little advice for all you Gatorade lovers out there, make sure if you drink a lot of it, your sweating enough to keep your processes healthy.
Finally, after about 3 or 4 days, they were able to remove the tube from my mouth. It was still hard trying to talk and took me probably around a week to be able to talk even close to normally again. I could not eat much, and I was only allowed to have about a quart of liquid a day, and at first mostly was only allowed to have ice chips. It's amazing how sore and cracked your lips get when you aren't able to drink. This was one of the most annoying parts of my recovery and I still seem to have problems with this from time to time even now.
Soon after my awakening I had to have another catheter sewn into my chest. I have to say, I don't know what the drug was they gave me for that surgery, but I would take some more of it whenever they wanted! I felt l like I was floating and felt no pain, and I remember that surgery as one of my favorites, if there can be such a thing.
After that I was scheduled for dialysis. Let me say this....if you know anyone or you yourself have ever been on dialysis, it is one of the worst experiences you can have to deal with. Though the nurses in the dialysis station were very good and also nice people, the experience is not something anyone can look forward to. Kidney failure is scary. You can't pee and you can't do anything else. I have to be honest, the thought of having to deal with this for the rest of my life was scary, and probably the thing I fought hardest to get back from the time I was told what was happening. It would take me a while to get back to a functioning human being, but the question of "Why Am I still Here?" would linger for a long,long time.
It was a couple of weeks before I was moved from intensive care to a regular care room. Getting dialysis treatments every other day, still being tested and hooked up to intravenous tubes, not being able to eat and only being able to drink minimal amounts of liquid and also ice chips, getting blood taken for tests almost every day....it was hell, and the feeling that you would be better off dead is a hard one to overcome. My rehab was going to be a long hard road, but it was something that had to be done. I had a physical therapist working with me to try and move my arms and legs again. I had gone from weighing roughly around 215 pounds down to about 140. My body and mind were devastated, and there were many more obstacles to overcome than anyone ever would have imagined when I first entered Good Samaritan Hospital on June 5,2005. Slowly but surely my recovery would begin.
Why Am I Still Here? Chapter 5
The recovery
I was not released from the hospital until around July 4th,2005. Almost 30 days inside of a place that I never wanted to be, and a place that no one thought I would leave, I was finally going home with my wife and stepdaughter. It was determined I had beaten this strep infection, but to this day no doctor or anyone else can tell where it came from or why.The physical therapist had gotten me to be able to at least shuffle myself around, but I could not even stand,never mind walk, for a period of more than a couple of minutes. I had taught myself to eat again, and my speech was still a bit slow, but people could at least understand what I was saying. I had lost the hearing in my left ear, and would be on dialysis 2-3 times a week. Nicole would have to dress the wounds on my foot for about a month or so after I came out of the hospital, and that was not a pleasant job I must say. The cuts were so deep you could almost see down to the bone, and the bandages had to be changed and my cuts cleaned twice a day. I'll never forget the look on some of my neighbors faces when I returned from the hospital. The looks in their eyes when Nicole had to help me get out of the car, and then watch me try to make it to my apartment with my walker, were ones of what seemed like fear and pity combined. These looks would continue every time I had to go out for a doctor's appointment,or another test, and I have to tell you, it makes you understand what some handicapped people must have to live with everyday. It is not fun being stared at wherever you go, but most times you don't even have the energy to care.
Everyday my attitude seemed to get worse. How was I supposed to live like this? Never again would I be able to play soccer with Samantha.It would be a long time before I would even be able to drive to even take her anywhere. How was Nicole supposed to pay the bills without my help? Sure, I applied for social security but the government really could care less about your families situation,trust me. Other than my medical care, we would get absolutely no help from them, and being out of work at the time was as unfortunate as it could get. The whole time what was eating me up inside was the fact that Samantha, who truly is one of the best kids you would ever meet, would have to miss out on things now as well. Sometimes folks, it is harder to be alive than dead.
Prior to my life threatening experience,most people would likely tell you I was one of the nicest people they knew. I got along with just about everyone. My friends used to even tease me when we would go out, because it seemed like wherever I went I would run into someone else that I knew. They would always bust my chops and say
"Dude, you should run for Mayor. Do you know everyone in this town?" I guess it was just the way I was raised, but I did seem to get along with most people. Even after the way I was treated by AGI after putting up numbers no one had ever come close to in their collection department, I always had the confidence and where with all to push on and never really worried about work, because I knew I would always find something. Boy, did things change.
I feel horrible for the way I even treated my wife and Samantha when I returned from the hospital, but that was nothing compared to people who didn't know me. I just didn't want to be bothered. Let me just say this, when you feel worthless and weak your whole attitude changes. I no longer even wanted to get along with everyone. All I wanted was to go back in time and be a body in a casket. I would curse and give attitude to social workers,doctors,security guards,secretaries, or whoever was on the phone. I would continually tell my wife she should have let me die. Every time I looked at Sam I would feel like she would be better off with a new Dad. People think you should be grateful for still being alive, but what kind of life do you really have?
The doctors and nurses and some other staff at the hospital used to call me "the miracle patient" because no one could believe I had survived. Then, another "miracle" happened about a month after I left the hospital when my functions came back and I no longer needed to go to dialysis. As I had mentioned previously, that was no picnic, and after my release I had to have treatments at a dialysis center. There are not many places on the face of the earth more depressing than this. We all just sat there in our chairs, hooked up to our machines, and to listen to some of the noises some of these poor people made was practically enough to drive you insane. This is truly something no one would even wish on their worst enemy, and to find out I had beat it and never had to go back made my attitude change for the better, at least for a day. Yet the question still haunted me,Why am I still here?
I had beat the odds and was still alive, and would never take for granted the simple act of going to the bathroom ever again. The rest of me was still a mess though. Post traumatic stress syndrome was hitting me hard, and this was just another thing to deal with on top of everything else. I was still getting physical therapy 2 times a week in my home, and was downing as much liquid as I was allowed to consume since being on a ration in the hospital. I was drinking Pepsi a lot, and enjoyed Iced Tea as well as regular tea, but within a month this would put me back into the hospital again.
I thought maybe this would finally be the end. This time it was my stomach that put me there. I had had ulcers before when I lived in New Jersey, but the doctors there could never find a real cause and things had always cleared up from the prescriptions they gave me. However, I would always continue to have stomach problems. I had always complained that it seemed to get worse when I drank a lot of coffee, but these doctors would always tell me that had nothing to do with it. Well, I guess I'm lucky I moved to Ohio! Dr.Khan from Good Sam had finally figured out what was wrong after all these years. I was allergic to caffeine! Gee, do you think that could have something to do with me getting sick after drinking a lot of coffee? That just backed up my theory that had I not moved to Ohio, and been forced to go to Community here in Toms River with my "swollen foot", I likely would have had no chance of survival. Just my luck, wrong place,wrong time. Had I stayed in NJ I could have been in peace and not had to worry about the problems of survival.
After seeing another doctor after I had been out of the hospital and off of dialysis, it was determined that due to the hairs in my ear, my hearing would never come back. The nerve damage in my left hand which I had gotten from all the needles that were being poked in me would never go away either, but in time would not be a bother. It took me almost 3 years to be able to walk without the support of at least a cane, and the pain in my foot from the surgery still comes and goes. For most people, you would think something like this could make their faith stronger. For me, it was just like God wants to torture me some more. Maybe he's having a good laugh, maybe he just doesn't care, or maybe he doesn't even exist. I thought that perhaps I was alive to write some new songs that could inspire people and maybe influence people to tolerate and get along with each other better. I thought maybe I was still here to continue to help my stepdaughter grow and continue to be the really good person she has turned out to be. I thought maybe even my wife Nicole and I would have a closer relationship and something like this would make her a better person and more responsible.
While Sam is still a great teenager who has a lot of values and morals you don't see a lot in people her age anymore,the relationship between Nicole and I only became worse over time. While she may be a more responsible person than if this had never happened, it still was not enough for us to stay together. I don't blame her at all for wanting me to leave, and it likely should have happened a long time ago, but to me it just showed me how people don't take the whole marriage thing as seriously as it used to be, and how selfishness is a trait that can be a hard one to change. While I have written some great new material, I still don't have the resources to do anything about it, so I guess my theory about my music is out as well. I have worked hard to try and make something of myself by working online, both with my own website as well as promoting others, but that has not been working out either. With my physical limitations getting better, although they will never be the same, the toughest battle is trying to fight through the mentality of who I am now and the options that I have. Depression and PTSD have taken a toll on many people, and I never believed the effect they could have until now. Everyday you feel worthless. Everyday you search for answers. Everyday you wake up and wonder why......Why am I still here? I hope I can find the answer soon.
John Bishop
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