I don't plan to bore you with a lot of self elevating BS that I think makes me some superb writer, instead; I will share with you one of the most vital turning points in my life.Read on------
I am very introverted and blunt. I learned most of my moral lessons in one big flash.
It was the summertime of my thirteenth year. I was a metal head troublemaker heading down the rocky path of hostile stupidity and self destruction. I lived to hate and could not care less as to why.
The evening was creeping across the horizon as my friend and I finally reached his house from a long day of trampling the town. I took control of the phone immediately, calling other friends to fill their ears with inane banality.
Without getting too involved, he ended up pointing a 44 magnum revolver at me (not maliciously - if you can understand that). The trigger was pulled and I was eating lead and gunpowder in my sleep. I awoke from my bullet induced nap being dragged backward, down a flight of stairs. My vision was red and obscured as in a dream. I was lucid at best and knew that I was falling down the stairs to Hell. My friend (and would-be assassin) found that I was very much alive and called 911 for help. The next couple hours flew by as I discovered many truths about life.
Paramedics are pushy, ambulance rides are exciting, don't flip off a friend to reassure him you are fine, you WILL get naked in front of women in the emergency room, and going into shock is better than any drug around!
I woke up a week later in a Seattle hospital bed, still not sure whether I dreamt the situation or lived it. I saw a lot of family and got to share my hospital room (after the Intensive Care Unit stay) with the most fowl mouthed torture victim I have ever met (he fell asleep in a fire and had to have his foot pinned to his knee for three months). I finally understood what happened! I got shot in the head! The only thing I could think of was the image of the teen that shot himself in the head with a shotgun (the parents blamed his failed suicide on the metal band Judas Priest)...shit I was ugly! My face was swollen three or four times its original size. I had new frankensteinesque slices on my face and neck, I was a freak...a monster!
I couldn't stop the wash of self loathing and pity that suddenly was drowning me! Worse, I didn't want to stop it. I was the most hideous thing alive! My only future was a sideshow freak in a carnival. Why didn't I just die? The pity that filled my hospital room suddenly became my sustenance and I was gluttonous! I gorged myself on the sympathy and negativity, not leaving a scrap in my wake. The tubes. Blood tests. Monitors and wires. I was a prisoner, bound to my bed and enduring the most humiliating thing a teenager could endure...bedpans. I was crushed. I had a beautiful nurse tending to me and all I could do to satisfy her was urinate to a specified line within a bottle.
My strength was gone, physically and emotionally. The staff was realizing that I was slipping into the void and devotedly tried to pull me out (except the fat nurse cow, Diane...you know who you are bitch) of my hole. To no avail. I would not leave my room and hid my face from even my mother. In their last ditch effort to pull me from my blackness, I was forced physically to get out of bed and into the recreational room for an evening with pottery.
This was the catalyst, more unsettling than the actual near death incident.
I hesitantly entered this room, apprehensive and full of hate. I sat at the table nearest the door in case the other patients began their barrage of laughter and finger pointing. What I was unaware of immediately was that I was sitting next to a living, breathing, mummified midget. My mother asked this child's mom (who was sporting an arm cast) what happened.
This woman was on vacation with her husband and two children. They rented a boat and were going to set out to see the coasts. Before they shoved off, the boat literally exploded...with her husband and two children still aboard. She was not nearly on board and was (as she put it) 'thankfully' slammed free. Her husband and daughter were taken from her. Her two year old son was now this walking band-aid.
I took the time to watch this boy draw pictures and try pounding clay with blistered stubs. He was happy. In fact, he was having the time of his life!
What fucking right did I have? I was not nearly as damaged or cosmetically challenged as boy Tut. I had a very good chance at living an almost normal life.
I gained new resolve right there. I again had an ego, even if it was little. My six month recovery time turned into twelve days. I fought. I had developed a strong will! This was tested almost immediately. Feeling good about your disfigurement is an easy accomplishment in a hospital full of freaks, but is an entirely different measure of failure in the Seattle airport FULL of eyes! I could have been a witch in Salem and felt less burning! Not one head was unturned as the amazing balloon head boy was wheeled along in my cripple chariot (my muscles had long since fell into entropy and I couldn't walk great distances). Every man, woman, and child reminded me why freaks shouldn't be let out in public and that society automatically condemns that which they do not understand. The thing that kept me going was boy Tut and his mother. She made the best of possibly the worst situation a person can encounter and she propelled her son into recovery with a positive, no-pity attitude.
I came out on top with many new outlooks and beliefs, some of which follow. I know now that with enough willpower and personal energy, ANYTHING can be accomplished. Desires drive you to unseen places. Nurses are VERY tolerant. Life is too important to screw off with non-directional hate (if you are going to hate, know what it is and direct your emotions). You are what makes you strong. Stupid people are best found in large groups as herd mentality possesses the mind of the individual.
Most importantly, pity has no place in man's world. Without pity, you have a strength to rival any one's. I will not ask for, or give pity. It is only a setback to the evolution of you. To live a vital existence, discard this parasitic feeling when it attacks you. The only way to truly find sympathy is to look in the dictionary between SHIT and SYPHILIS!
Be strong, survive, evolve!
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