Ryan
B. Clem
English, Mrs. Bell
October 16, 2002
Life,
The Second Time Around
My eyes started
to open. I could see blurry images. I heard voices. Trying to focus on the shadows
I could not see anything but a blurred image, an outline. I could not move one
part of my body. The pain was everywhere. Life was in slow motion. I did not
know where I was. What happened to me? Where am I? Trying to move my lips, I
could not get a sound out to speak, my body was numb, and I could not move.
"Ryan, you are in a hospital, you were in a car accident." Tears dripped
down my face. Days passed, weeks passed and visitors came in and out. I remember
voices helped me so I was not so afraid. I heard beeping noises and people running.
My confusion was not getting better.The nurses reassured me I would be all right.
As my brain started to heal I understood I was really messed up. Two and a half
months in a coma I slowly emerged. I was run over by a truck, my ankle was hanging
by a thread of skin. The thought of not being able to see, talk, or walk was
scary for me. I was afraid. I felt tubes in my nose down my throat, and I could
not respond or move my body.
I did not understand
why I could not see clearly. Trying to focus, nothing was clear to me. “Try
and write your name Ryan; here is the pencil.” I knew I was awake, but
it did not seem real to me. I must have gotten in trouble and my parents sent
me to live in a hospital. It must have been something really bad because I was
locked up, being punished. A camera on the ceiling kept an eye on me all the
time, and I was held down by five point restraints so I could heal right. Friends
came but I could not remember any of them. I was very afraid and confused.
“You are
okay Ryan; you were in an accident. This is a hospital. OK? You are in Intensive
Care.” What are they talking about? I felt like a piece of clay lying there
in bed. My worst fear in life was any person going near my neck. I thought,
“I don’t know why but don’t ever go near my neck. It freaks me
out.” Tubes were sticking out from all parts of my body. There were tubes
coming out of the veins of both of my arms. There was a big tube coming out
of my stomach. Everything was hooked up to machines that beeped, lot of beeps
and colors. And then there was this tube coming out of my throat. They put my
head in a halo, which is bolted together to stabilize the broken neck. Titanium
bolts screw into your head stabilizing a broken neck. The halo hooks on to a
chest protector like you wear racing motorcycles. The pain was intense, so much
pain, I feared moving. They said I thrashed back and forth, but my body was
trying to tell them I had two large six inch infected bedsores on my back. Losing
weight, never being turned, the halo grew in my backbones creating two large
infected bedsores. Everyone thought I was emerging from a coma, but it was the
pain from the infections I was thrashing back and forth.
All my feelings
were inside my head. I could not communicate about anything with anybody. It
was lonely. I thought nobody wanted to be my friend anymore. I did not know
if I was alive sometimes. Did my parents put me here for a reason? Who am I?
What am I? How did I get here? I remember voices; they helped me wake up. I
was not as afraid when people spoke. People spoke softly, read to me earphones
for music that helped me wake up. A squeaking noise came out trying to be my
voice, my opinion, tubes…
I hear friends
telling me what high school was like during that time in my life. Looking at
pictures, people talking helps me remember who I was before the accident. I
didn’t know who I was. Whatever people said I did, I must have done. People
talked about the old Ryan and compared. They liked the old Ryan better. He loved
life, the beach, people, surfing, concerts, parties, motorcycle riding, water
skiing, traveling and movies. He had goals for the future, and lived life to
the fullest every day.
I emerged from
a coma over a four-month period. You do not wake up quickly; it takes a long
time. My memory was shot. I did not know my name. I lost my vision. I could
not swallow, sit or walk. Everything from birth on I had to relearn. I used
to be left-handed woke but up right-handed, and months later returned to my
left hand. Now I have a tough time trying to figure out simple tasks. Everyday
tasks a normal person takes for granted, like what time to leave the house for
school, what someone told me an hour ago, and what I did yesterday, are difficult
for me and I am almost 21.
Things have changed.
I used to go surfing no matter what. Surfing was my passion, my love in life.
Now it hurts every part of my body when I surf. Everything involves my neck
and turning my neck side to side is a real effort. I still love surfing; I just
love it. I love anything that involves being in the water. My parents hung a
new surfboard above my hospital bed. My parents told me I would surf again.
“You can do whatever you want to do, it will be tough, and it will hurt.”
I have come a long, long way. I used to work out to hang out with ‘the
boys’ and go swimming afterwards. Now, I work out daily to keep from feeling
the pain. Pretty sad.
I guess you can
say I struggle to live daily. That must not interest others because they don't
seem to be around like they use to. If I had the chance to turn back time, I
would in a second. On October 1, 2000, my life changed, not for a short length
of time, but for a lifetime. Months after emerging from a coma, my reality is
different. I was run over by a truck, sustained TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury),
did not know who I was, where I was, and could not remember the person I used
to be.
Before my devastating accident I was not too involved with school or my future. Afterwards I began to appreciate the whole enchilada, school. Now I reach out for knowledge. Knowledge is my future.