bruce munsky's car accident a story of an awakening
For the past couple of months my wife, our 2 children, three year old “ Hurricane” Andrew, I called him that because he leaves a path of destruction where ever he goes, and nine year old “Princess K” Kayla, and I had been traveling back and forth from Columbia MD to Lake Norman NC. We were looking at homes, and had been planning to move to the area. That’s exactly what we were doing the day before everything changed, June 2nd 2006. The day of my automobile accident. I was supposed to be taking one step closer to starting a new opportunity (aka career), making more money, and moving to NC. My life was going in the right directions, up. Think about anything that made you feel as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve. Yeah that’s the feeling. Think about a time that you were excited about something that you were going to be doing in the near future. Times that feeling by 10. Then you’ll know how I felt the morning of my accident, June 2nd 2006. June 2nd was supposed to be my last day as a Business Development Director for my current employer. At 28 years old I was about to get to one of the places I had spent my youth trying to get too. In exactly one week I would have begun an opportunity as a Vice President for my new employer. All I had to do was drive to my current employers headquarters and turn in my company owned electronics. I had a week of vacation. Before starting my new opportunity and moving on up in the world. That morning, like every other workday morning, I kissed my wife and kids goodbye before leaving my home and getting on the road. Within 5 minutes after leaving my home a cherry picker, a large telecommunications construction vehicles, broke down in front of me. It was like a huge wall of steel feel out of the sky and landed in front of me. Somehow at a speed of more than 60 mph I smashed my truck into the back of this crane. It was like speeding into a wall of steel. Imagine holding an empty soda can, horizontally, between both of your hands. Then crushing it. So, the top meets the bottom. That was my truck with me caught in the middle. The heavy-duty truck I was driving, a Ford F- 250 Stack Body, is built like a tank. They’re mainly used in the construction industry and built to be able to take an impact. It is a miracle that I was driving my truck that day. This is my first miracle in a story full of miracles June 2, 2006 was the only day in the past 2 years that I drove my Ford F – 250 Stack Body to work. The windshield of the car I should have been driving, 1996 Oldsmobile Olds, was broken by my son, Hurricane Andrew, and stolen from the NC auto body shop. That was replacing the windshield. It’s scary to think how my Oldsmobile would look if a tank like my truck got crushed like it was made of tin foil. I probably would not be writing this story if my son hadn’t broken my car windshield. In a way I owe my life to my son. This is the only time that I was thankful that someone broke or stole something of mine. Back to the morning everything changed, June 2nd 2006, and the scene of my accident. For the past 10 years the one witness of my accident calls me every June 2nd. To see how I am doing. Plus, unfortunately, she will always remember me. After being traumatized by what she saw. What she saw would traumatize anyone. She told me blood was everywhere. My entire face, body, the inner windshield and the interior of my truck were covered in blood. Blood was pouring out of my driver’s side door. I wasn’t moving or breathing. My lifeless body was the only thing stopping each of the sides of my truck from pressing together from the impact. Initially, I was declared DOA, dead on arrival. Until someone saw my lips move. While trying to breath. Once I was cut out of my truck with the jaws of life I was flown to the University of MD Medical Center Shock Trauma (UMMCST) in critical condition. The helicopter crew said, a few times, I went in and out of consciousness screaming for my angel, my wife, Tina. Once the helicopter touched down. The medical team at the University of MD Medical Center’s Shock Trauma (UMMCST) in Baltimore MD kept me alive and started to put me back together again. It’s a miracle that I lived near the world’s best and the first Trauma Center, UMMCST. They created what the trauma center is today. Most trauma centers are a Level two or three. Not a Level One trauma center and capable of, literally, putting the entire body back together, like UMMCST did for me. What I am going to share with you about the day of my motor vehicle accident and the next couple of months are from what my family, friends, or medical professionals had told me. From reading thousands of pages of my medical records. Each time I discover a new trauma or injury that I didn’t see previously. Some of my sharing is from past nightmares, and flashbacks of my trauma. The only thing I remember about my accident was kissing my wife and kid’s goodbye the morning I left my house. My wife, on the other hand remembers and can feel it like it was yesterday. That morning around 8am I left my house to finish out my last day of work. Tina was expecting me back home within a few hours. She was packed and ready to go back to Lake Norman NC and view more homes. Before 9am she’s traumatized, filled with fear and anxiety after being told by the Howard County Fire and Rescue that I’m in critical condition. She needs to get to the UMMCST, now. At the same time my sister n law is banging on the front window of my home. (Rest in peace, Daphne.) To tell her the same thing. All that is going through her mind is, “Is he dead or alive?” “What Happened?” “Is he hurt?” Plus, a million more fearful thoughts. That no one wants to have. After waiting for over 5 hours in the Shock Trauma waiting room to see me all of her fears and causes of anxiety start to come true. Once she is allowed to see me. The first couple of words out my Shock Trauma team of surgeon’s mouths were to, “EXPECT THE WORSE.” “The chances of survival are minimal to none.” It’s a miracle that he’s still here. Due to the multiple hematomas (bruising), hemorrhages (bleeding), contusions, swelling, and other severe injuries throughout his brain. He will remain in a coma with little to no brain activity and require 24/7 care. That’s if he survives. Within minutes after being allowed to see me Tina was asked to kiss me good bye. As I was being pushed back to the operating room. This would become her daily routine for the next couple of weeks. I had catastrophic damage and multiple severe injuries throughout my entire body. For over a month I was on life support, had a feeding tube, a cone like object was shoved into my skull to relieve pressure from my brain, wires, tubing, and other medical supplies were coming out of or going into every area of my body. Multiple machines breathed for me and kept me alive. While areas throughout my entire body were repaired, removed, and / or replaced. The damage throughout my entire body was just as deadly and severe as the damage to my brain. Every time my team of surgeons repaired one of my internal injuries, they found more injuries to repair. Every organ in my body, most of my bones, and many other areas of my body were damaged. Every single one of my organs were torn, bruised, an/or swollen. My heart and aorta required several stents to stop the internal bleeding and close the tears. My insides looked like someone gripping a razor blade in one hand, a baseball bat in the other, reached inside me, wildly, slashing and swinging away. After the majority of my abdomen was removed an incision was made from my the center of my chest to the bottom of my waist. Then my abdominal area was spread open to expose my organs. Parts of my organs were removed, replaced, any repaired with mesh, staples, sutures, and many other medical supplies used to save my life and repair my injuries. Thank God for donors. Many pieces of tissue, muscle, and other cadaver / donor parts were used to save my life and repair the damage done to my body. Including enough blood transfusions to fill an entire body. Some of my internal damage healed on its own. The human body’s ability to heal is magical. My collapsed lungs, some of the lacerations to my kidneys, spleen, pancreas, liver, and other organs healed on their own. So, did all of my broken ribs, collar bone, some facial fractures, and other bones that weren’t smashed or broken. Facial and orbital reconstruction was required due to the breaks, fractures, and damage done to my right eye, nose, and other areas of my face. Due to my orthopedic damage my wife was told that there was no chance of me being able to walk again and amputation may be necessary. A permanent titanium rod was placed in my smashed left femur. Several permanent screws were used to reattach my right foot. Which completely detached from my leg. Many of my ligament and tendons were torn or ripped throughout my legs and feet. Some, which completely tore away from the bone. All the nerves in my right foot, ankle, and leg were shredded and unrepairable. Causing me 24/7 pain and suffering. From nerve damage. The impact from my accident caused cells throughout my entire my body to swell.. Making my entire body, arteries, and every organ to become extremely swollen. To the point I looked like a human balloon. The swelling and blunt force trauma caused my spleen, liver, and other organs to rupture and to swell to the point that they took up all the room in my abdomen. Restricting the blood flow to and from my organs. My accidents impact and blunt force trauma caused most my abdomen to die and most it was immediately removed. No more six pack. The remainder of my abdomen, less than 10%, was cut straight down the middle and pushed to the sides. This huge abdominal wound was left open for the entire month. To relieve pressure from my swollen organs and my brain. For a month my abdominal wound, large enough to fit a soccer ball inside off, remained open. A large plastic like piece of medical material was placed across my entire abdominal area. In order to cover and protect my intestines, liver, and other abdominal area organs. Which made it possible for anyone in my room to look inside of me. My list of injuries and medical conditions go on and on. Many miracles occurred during those 2 months. That saved my life over and over again. Like, when I needed open heart surgery to repair the tears and to stop the bleeding in several areas of my heart and aorta. During the time of my accident most Trauma Centers would not have been able to repair my heart and aorta or it would be extremely risky with my entire abdomen being cut open. Having broken robs made it more challenging.. Which would have required me to be cut open from my neck line to my groin. Exposing my heart, intestines, and all of my organs to be exposed. Fortunately for me, I was at one of the only trauma centers in the world that could do my heart and aortic surgery. Without having to crack open my ribs and chest to expose my heart. To repair the tears and stop the bleeding. An incision was made in my groin. An endoscope was used to place several stents on different areas of my aorta. In my abdominal area and several areas of heart. Which was another miracle for me. After a month of over 30 major life saving operations and having my body rebuilt with titanium, mesh, cadaver / donor parts, and other medical materials. My operations, for now, were done and my injuries were stabilized. Now, my life, is in My Angel, my wife, Tina’s hands. The hope she had for me helped her to create another miracle for me. I would still be comatose lying in a nursing room bed somewhere or even worse dead. If my Tina, my angel, wasn’t by my side. I was still in a coma with little to no brain activity. When my surgeries were done and my body was stabilized. My Shock Trauma medical team told my wife that they are sending me to a nursing home and not to the Brain Injury Unit of Kernan Rehabilitation. According to my Shock Trauma team and based on the statistics of trauma patients with similar brain injuries, I was never coming out of my coma. Which made going to Rehabilitation pointless. Tina’s hope and belief that I would come out of my coma lead her to preventing my Shock Trauma medical team from sending me to a nursing home. Which gave my mind and body more time to rest and heal. While Tina continued to support and encourage me to get better. Since day one, June 2nd, my angel talked to me as though I was awake and could hear her. I know I did. She knew I was listening. Tina made sure that no one in my room argued, said or did anything that would upset me, and spoke to me as though I was awake. She even brought my daughter, Kayla, to see me. Who was 9 years old. Kids are not allowed in Shock Trauma. For over a month Kayla believed and would tell Tina that her daddy’s dead. Tina snuck her into Shock Trauma for a few minutes to see me. So she could tell me that she loves me and wants me to come home. The extra time, little over a week, that my Angel, Tina, fought for me to stay in Shock Trauma. Gave me enough time to open my eyes for the first time in weeks. To anyone there opening my eyes for the first time was just as scary as when I was in a coma. I looked like the stereotypical traumatic brain injury patient. My head, neck, right hand and right arm were all bent up and stuck in a V like position. My right arm was pasted to my chest. I couldn’t talk or move my body. I would stay in whatever position someone put me in, make noises. While drool ran down the side of my face. Shortly thereafter after I responded to stimuli. Now, that I was awake and responding to stimuli I can go to the brain injury unit of Kernan Rehabilitation. Where I received physical therapy to rehabilitate my body and cognitive therapy to determine my level of cognitive deficits from my severe traumatic brain injury. Being able to go to Rehabilitation is one more miracle added to a growing list of them. When I left Shock Trauma my insides were still exposed through my huge abdominal wound. A huge affix on my left femur and a cast on my right foot. I was bound to a wheel chair. I had a neck brace, plenty of gauze and bandages as well as tubes and other medical materials hanging throughout my body. While at Kernan Rehabilitation I was like a huge new born baby because of my cognitive deficits from my severe traumatic brain injury. I had to learn how to talk, walk, write, and relearn how to do every day basic functions all over again. Everything had to be done for me. Change my diaper, feed me, and help me do the most basic of tasks. Like sitting up in bed. For the first week or so at Kernan Rehabilitation I was still saying crazy things and didn’t recognize anyone. While at Keenan Rehabilitation I spent my days with my physical therapist and my Neurologist or Neuropsychologist. Testing my memory, attention, and all of my cognitive abilities and deficits. My Neurological Evaluation clarified what everyone already knew. My cognitive deficits made me permanently disabled. Like I mentioned earlier I do not remember any of what I’m sharing with you. As years went by I would have dreams and flash backs about my accident and time as an inpatient on the Brain Injury Unit of Kernan Rehabilitation. That I would always confirm with Tina and other visitors I had. The flashbacks I had about Kernan Rehabilitation were frightening. The ones I wrote down in my journal always involve me being in excruciating pain, feeling scared, alone, like I was trapped, or helpless. These nightmares always feel so real. I wake up in a cold sweat, breathing like I just ran a race, and feeling like I went back in time. Some of the nightmares I had involved me strapped down to my hospital bed or my wheel chair and unable to move. My wife confirmed this by telling that I was strapped down to my bed and anywhere I was put. To stop me from ripping out my trek, staples, tubing, reaching into my open abdominal wound. Like I’ve done before. In one of my nightmares I’m being pushed into the Brain Injury Units cafeteria by one of my nurses and left at a table in the middle of the room. Surrounded by other brain injury patients. Just like me. Who were twitching, screaming uncontrollably, drooling, and making other sounds and movements. They have no control over. I felt helpless, weak, alone, and afraid. Where am I? How did I get here? I feel bad for saying this. It’s shocking to be in a room full of brain injury survivors with severe deficits in their thinking, functioning, reasoning, and every other cognitive function. Especially for me, someone who doesn’t understand what happened to me or why I’m in this strange place. My twin brother confirmed my flashback of me constantly feeling all alone. Anytime my family or friends weren’t visiting me I’d beg the Kernan nurses to call my twin brother, Jason. Who worked 20 minutes away from Kernan Rehabilitation. So, I could beg him to leave work and come to visit me at Rehabilitation. When he came. He would push me along the walking path in front of Kernan Rehabilitation. It’s amazing how something I wouldn’t have thought twice about, being able to go outside, take a walk or in my case be pushed in a wheelchair. Becomes so meaningful and an important part of my day. For a few minutes of the day I got to be and feel like something else besides a scared and hurt patient. I felt safe and loved when my family was in my room with me. Just seeing them was enough for me. Thanks Tina, Jason, mom/dad, and everyone else that made me feel that way. Just by showing up to my room. One of the many reasons that I dedicated my life to supporting and visiting trauma survivors in the ICU or trauma centers is because some don’t have anyone to visit and support them. My journal has more similar and more frightening moments from my trauma. Like, seeing myself screaming for my nurse, pressing the call button sporadically, in pain or having to use the bathroom. Thrashing around until I tip my bed over. While my arms and legs are strapped down. While at Rehabilitation I went back and forth to Shock Trauma several times for surgeries to stabilize the rod in my leg, screws in my ankle and foot, and place a large skin graph from my thigh over the top of my huge abdominal wound. Now, the only thing covering my intestines and other organs in my abdominal region was a large piece of skin. The weight of my intestines caused my stomach to hang over my waist. Looking like a turkey neck. A loud sound could be heard and waves could be seen rippling over my skin graph whenever my stomach grumbled. I would’ve never imagined that someone could go home or survive in thez medical condition I was in at the time. After a month of rehabilitation and cognitive therapy on the brain injury unit my doctors still believed that I would never walk again, was permanently disabled, 100% dependent on others and requiring 24/7 care for the rest of my life, and had a lifetime of operations ahead of me. When I was discharged from Kernan Rehabilitation I went home looking like I was blown up or smashed and pieced back together again. It’s a miracle that I’m able to go home. My house looked like the place I just came from. My home was now a hospital and made handicap accessible. My living room became a mini hospital bed room. A ramp was built on my front door step, thank you Uncle Steve. Similar additions were made to my bathroom and other areas of my home. My Angel, was my live in nurse, care taker, memory, therapist, and wore many other hats to support me throughout my recovery. For the next 6 months I was an outpatient at Kernan Rehabilitation three or more days a week. At Rehabilitation I looked like everyone else, a trauma survivor. Outside of a medical facility looking the way I did caused people, I knew or didn’t know, to come up to me and pray for me. It was a kind gesture and showed me that people cared. At the same time I made myself feel weak and helpless. In my mind I had to be strong and show no weakness. Something else that was on my mind was getting myself well enough to fulfill the promise that I made to Tina over a year ago. That we would move to NC. I made getting well enough to move to NC my motivation to get better. In outpatient rehab and at home I made small obtainable goals for myself. Well Tina and I made them together. Like being able to left my arm above my shoulders by the end of the week and other small goals. That made feel better physically and mentally. Setting small obtainable goals is one of the tools that I helped to teach trauma survivors. Years later when I became a leader for TSN’s Next Steps class. A class that helps trauma survivors threw their recovery. At outpatient rehabilitation setting small obtainable goals helped me to go from being in a wheelchair, that I was supposed to be in permanently, to being able to stand up and take a few steps with a walker. With someone holding onto me, off course. In case I fell. Which happened often. Many times I didn’t want to get up, but I did. Then after a lot of rehab, too much pain, and several more 12 plus hour long surgeries at the University of MD Medical Center. To set the rod in my left femur and screws in my right foot and ankle. It was time to move to NC. Once I was given the ok by my physical therapist, Neurologist, Cardiologist, Surgeons, and other doctors we packed up and moved to Huntersville NC. My knew motto was, “What would I do or would I do this? If I knew that I was going to die tomorrow. I don’t know or remember how I got here or buying this home, but I love it. Before moving to NC Tina made sure the doctors, hospitals, and other medical facilities I would need, which were a lot of them, were just as good as the ones I had in MD. Thankfully they were. We were in NC for a few weeks before I had to go back to the University of MD Medical Center for more surgeries to reconstruct my abdomen, heart, aorta, brain, and other internal repairs. For the next 7 years I would have at least one operation every 2 – 3 months. Totaling way over 100 operations for me to recover and my body to heal. Going home was the start of a continuous cycle of having an operation, recovering, and looking like I’m getting better. Then all of a sudden out of nowhere getting worst and having to go back into the operating room. Having up to 15 surgeries to repair one of my injuries or medical condition. My injuries and operations over the next 7 years of my recovery aren’t as important as what I got out of it. So, here’s a brief look at what I was dealing with. It’s still hard to believe. At the same time I was constantly being operated on I was seeing 10 different types of doctors for various medical conditions and re learning how to read, write, walk, and do everything all over again. Many unsuccessful operations were performed on my ankle and foot. My last hope , Wake Forest Orthopedics, suggested I look into prosthetics and remove my foot. The pain I felt 24/7 made me want to saw it off myself. The stem cell injections they suggested wouldn’t work for me. The bone decay, nerve and other damage were too severe. At the same time something internally would rip in half or tear. Like my intestines. Just because I sneezed. For 3 years I had to wear a colostomy bag, wound vac, and IV pic line to fight off my intra abdominal infections. Which were every type of Ecoli and Staph infection. It was normal for me to get Sepsis. My weekly follow up doctor appointment would consist of me lying on the operating table in one of his office’s rooms. I’d watch his hand disappear inside my belly. It was like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat. Instead of a hat it was my belly. Instead of a rabbit he took out infected staples, sutures, pieces of mesh and other infected medical materials that were under my bowels, embedded in muscle or tissue and other areas inside my abdomen. During one of many doctor visits he pulled out 5 staples, a few sutures, a couple pieces of mesh, and some other medical materials. As time went on I developed a strange since of humor. One end of my tore intestine was hanging out of my abdominal wound. I or anyone that wanted to could see what I drank or ate coming out of my intestines. I would tape myself drinking a bunch of water while standing up and call it the human water fountain. Even though I was being told that I am going to wear a colostomy bag forever. Making fun of myself or joking around gave me a feeling of peace and happiness. Getting my abdominal wound to heal and fighting off my intra-abdominal infections were one of the last of my many physical and mental battles I fought with death. Death was constantly knocking on my front door every day and every second for those 7 years. Even so I was thankful to be alive. For the first couple of years after my trauma I had an elevated appreciating of life and for my family. I really didn’t know or appreciate what I had until it was gone. Before I share with you about my appreciation of life. Let me tell you about what I struggled to accept and appreciate. The NEW ME. I learned not to dwell on what I can’t change or had no control over, like the past and future. Dwelling on either one only caused me to be depressed or have anxiety. Months after my accident I started to understand what happened to me. Even though I didn’t want to understand. I wanted to snap back into the Bruce I was before my accident. I was in a rush to get my former life back. I thought that meant getting better to start earning money and supporting my family. Like a real man should be doing. Being in a rush to get better so I could be or do something that I did before only caused me to be further from getting there. I would fall or hurt myself. When I tried to rush through recovery. Thinking like that caused me to overlook all the baby steps I need to take to get there. A wise man once said a man chasing 2 rabits get neither. Like, learning how to walk, completing my surgeries, and allowing my body and mind to heal. Plus, I couldn’t even read or write. The fact that we depleted our savings, investments, kids college savings, and any assets we had. To pay for everyday living expenses. We were going to food banks and receiving public assistance to pay our utility bills, our home was foreclosing, and many more financial traumas. That not long ago, were a part of the last 7 years of my life. That brought me to doing a lot of self-talk. That told me how worthless I was and nothing but a burden to my family. Especially, because I had to depend on others. This only caused me to have negative emotions, like depression or fear, that caused my current medical conditions to worsen. Years into my recovery. I started to practice appreciating whatever I was complaining about. Instead of beating myself up because I had to depend on others. I appreciated that I had people that want to help me. My appreciation was overlapped with fear. If I got in an argument or anything negative happened between me, a family member, friend, or even someone I just met. I made sure to make peace with them before we parted ways. My fear was that something bad would happen to them. Like they would get in a car accident. Then the last interaction we had or memory they had of me was a bad one. My compassion and empathy for humanity grew stronger when I became a part of the Trauma Survivors Network(TSN). Like I mentioned earlier. I don’t remember much after my trauma. I do remember my first day at the Trauma Survivors Network. In June 2008 myself and 3 other trauma survivors were the first TSN members and the guinea pigs of the Trauma Survivors Network at The University of Maryland Medical Center’s Shock Trauma. My first TSN group meeting made me realize I was not alone. When the 4 other TSN members told their story I saw myself in their words and could relate to what they were going through. Sharing my story allowed me to get out the aggravation, disappointment, fear, and other feelings or thoughts I was keeping inside and hiding from myself and others. Every day thoughts that I was going to die and fear of what was going to happen next to put me back in the operating room. After sharing my story I broke down and had to step outside to call my angel,Tina. For what seemed like forever I cried and told her everything that I experienced in the meeting. Freeing myself of all those thoughts and emotions. Felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. Soon, I became the first peer visitor and started visiting shock trauma patients and their family members as well as friends to give them support and hope. At first being a peer visitor was about helping me through my recovery. Helping another trauma survivor feel better and see that there is a future after trauma. Visiting trauma survivors gave me a purpose and felt like therapy. You would find me at the TSN no matter what condition I was in. Right after a major surgery, wearing a wound vac, colostomy bag, in a wheelchair, or any other medical condition that caused the trauma patients/survivors I was visiting to say, “ I look like I need to be in their hospital bed. More than they do.” My life’s a miracle. My life’s purpose is to be hope and the belief in miracles for the world, especially other trauma survivors as well as their family members, or friends by sharing my story and the miracles that I created during my recovery. At the same time I was trying to make a difference in another trauma survivors life my life, seemed, to be going downhill. After 7 years, over a 100 operations, and enough drugs(prescriptions) to cure a whole city and relieve their pain for years my body wasn’t healed and my mind hadn’t recovered. Which caused me to take my anger out on others around me. Like the time I cursed out my father n law, my parents, my wife, and many other people I loved and were there to help me. These incidents happened when I was keeping my true feelings hidden and pretending to be someone else. Whenever someone asked me, “How do you do it?“ “How do you have so many surgeries?“ “One after another without giving up.” I would say things like, “I’m used to having surgeries.” “It’s just another day for me.” Every response I had was to show how strong I was and had everything under control. The fact that I made myself believe I was used to getting cut open seems crazy now. As a kid, I learned to hide my feelings and emotion. So, others don’t see me as weak. It was a way to protect myself. Now, I know this does the opposite and hurts me, physically and mentally. The only person that I’d tell my worries or other negative thoughts / emotions to was my Tina. When I would tell her things like that I’m never going to walk again or my pain and suffering will be over when I die. She would warn me, many times, that thinking that way will make those things happen. She was right. We create what we think. While talking to my counselor at my Suboxone doctor’s office about my journey towards recovery she referred me to a class that helped me to save my life and heal my body. To do that I had to see the person I was being and hiding from myself and others. The first class is called the Forum. A three day class from 10 am – 7 pm of looking into your past, present, and creating possibilities for hour life. My possibility was to make my mind stronger so I could heal my body completely. Shortly after arriving at the Forum I understood that a lot of time during my recovery was spent living in the past. Wondering why I got into an accident, injured, and worrying about what’s going to put me into the operating room next. For 3 days I learned how much my past controls who I am now and how to accept, let go off my past, and create any possibility that I wanted for my life. At the forum I was still wearing a wound vac over my huge abdominal wound and a IV pic line. Every 4 hours Tina and I rolled my IV stand to the back of the classroom. Where she would administer my antibiotic through my pic line. I was very sick. For the past 3 years I had every type of ecoli and staph infection throughout my organs and abdominal area. I was dying. A few months after the Forum my body started to heal and my infection was gone. For the first time in over 7 years my body fully recovered from my injuries. During the forum my possibility was to accept who I am now and to heal my body. The way I’m thinking and who I am being in the world has a tremendous impact on my health. To this day I continue to take Seminars and other Landmark courses. These courses helped me to win one more fight with death and to create many more miracles throughout my life. I have so much more to share and give back. I want to tell you about the emotional roll coaster ride my trauma had me on. How practicing brain exercises helped me to regrow areas of my brain that I was told were permanently damaged and strengthened the cognitive deficits I was told were impossible to improve. Plus, a bunch of other non traditional ways I learned and created to help heal my body and mind as well as save my life. I continue to use these tools in my everyday life. Sometimes I can make just living life into a trauma. I’m a miracle. I know miracles don’t just happen. They are created, by me. Each day is still a journey. That seems like an uphill path with road blocks and obstacles to through me off course. Like the monster that creeped into my life, Opioid addiction. A lot of us, trauma survivors, have this monster in our lives. At first it wasn’t a monster. It freed me of agonizing pain and helped to give me back my life. Now, I want to stop it from controlling my life. Not making myself wrong for having to take pain medicine and getting addicted to it. Was the hardest challenge. During one of several times I went “cold turkey” to get off pain meds I heard my angel Tina talking to a friend on the phone and said, “ I got my old Bruce back.” While talking about my troubles with pain medication. Hearing that gave me the strength to find and start taking Suboxone, two years ago. Slowly, but surely I’ve been winging off Suboxone. To one day be free of any dependency and addiction. It seems like I will always have some type of pain. Getting off Suboxone will allow me to see how letting my pain be a part of my life will be. Some have told me that it’s impossible to get off Suboxone. I’ll be in too much pain and other comments that I say don’t apply to me. I say what is so. Throughout my recovery over and over again I told myself, “I will not die.” “I will walk again.” “I will heal my body.” “I will be able to remember and overcome everything that I was told was impossible.” “I’m a survivor.” Thanks for reading My Story, Your Story.. Remember, you’re a survivor, not a victim. Bruce Munsky
