I am not really sure where to post this, but it is something I need to get out in the open as I sometimes feel I am losing my mind.

First a little background.

A few months ago I developed a severe case of pnuemonia. I was admitted to our local hospital for a few days and then life flighted to a regional hospital. I ended up undergoing 2 surgeries, 1 of which was an emergency procedure to remove over 2 liters of fluid that had built up around my chest and lungs, and a second one to remove as much of the infection and debris from my lung as possible.

In total I was hostipalized for a month, and for slightly over 2 weeks I was intubated and kept 95% unconscious.

I say 95% because from time to time I had flashes of what was going on around me, but the images were and still are jumbled and totally out of sequence. Also some of my memories were obviously hallucinations, like being cared for in a 24th century medical facility out of Star Trek, and some of them are not so obvious.

The one thing that is not out of whack with time is my knowing at the time it was happening, that I was very close to death. So close that the specialists told my family to get to the hospital now and the ICU nursing staff were placed on alert. I was given less than a 20% chance of living more than a few more hours. (I was able to piece this together after I had the intubation tube removed and no longer sedated)

Anyway, during this time that I was at my weakest and closest point to death I had what can only be termed as a near death experience. I did not see the light, I did not see lost loved ones. In fact, other than the room around me constanly changing size, color, and shape, I did not really see anything. At the same time I was with a very close "friend" who talked to me about choices. I was told that I had a choice to make. I could live or I could come home and that either way my choice would be supported in the fullest.

For a time I was ready to stop fighting. I was ready to go home and I was just waiting for the final moment when I would be allowed to.

As I was about to make the journey, off in the distance, I heard a song playing. It was Faith of the Heart, and it brought to mind visions of my infant son who was not even a year old at the time. It was then I changed my mind to stay here for him.

My "friend" said goodbye to me, told me that we would meet again, and that it was time to fight for what I wanted. Since I wanted to live and hold my son again I did just that, quite literally I fought. I ended up removing my intubation tube and then fought off several of the nursing staff who were trying to keep me from hurting myself.

After all this my stats improved and within one week I was off the vent for good, had all the other tubes removed (except for my IV line) and was undergoing rehab to get my muscles used to working again. In another week I was discharged and sent home. All in all it was an amazing and miraculous recovery, and I am grateful, but at the same time I feel I am losing my mind.

I keep trying to put the pieces together and I am no closer now than I was 6 weeks or so ago. I have tried to talk to my wife, my doctor and a few others but all I get is this skeptical look and the line "well you have been through a lot and everything I fine now."
Hearing this does nothing for my "sanity". It only adds to the feeling that I am going crazy, that I am close to losing my hold on reality.

So here I am. Telling my story the best way I can in hopes that I can find some peace and some reassurance from getting this into the light of day in the hopes that it will no longer be as scary.

The only thing that I have been told, which was while I was in the hospital, is that I have some kind of post tramatic stress disorder now, but that it should be short lived. So short lived that the medication that I was given to help keep me on an even keel while in the hospital and at home, was only prescribed for about 2 months, which runs out in a few more days though it has not done much good at all.

Well thank you for "listening."