Iron Heart: The True Story of How I Came Back From the Dead by Brian Boyle, Bill Katovsky Read Free Book Online Page B

Kimberly wipes my mouth off with a small towel.
    Kimberly walks over and turns the volume of the television up. She begins to giggle. I look up at the television to see what she thinks is so funny. It’s a talk show and there is a blonde woman walking out on stage and waving to the audience. I squint to see if I have seen this show before and then realize that it’s Ellen DeGeneres. I’ve always been a big fan of Ellen’s talk show and her sitcoms. She starts dancing on stage. Her positive energy pumps up the audience. Watching Ellen, I’ve stopped thinking about being so thirsty.
    Engrossed with Ellen, I almost don’t see my parents enter the room. They seem more relieved and less sad. My dad is carrying a small blue paper bag, and my mom is actually walking without a nurse holding her arm. She is clenching a tissue, but she is not crying. My dad asks me to blink and smile. I do both right away. He puts his fingers under my right hand and tells me to squeeze and I do. He then tells me to shake his hand, and I softly move his hand a few inches up and down.
    He pulls the chair with the aqua cushion close to my bed and sits down. My mom stands on the right side of the bed. My dad says that he brought some of my favorite CDs, including the Omaha, Nebraska, rock band 311, along with a small foam globe. He says that by squeezing it several times a day, it will help reactivate the nerves and muscles in my hands that have been placed on standby. He gives the ball to my mom who places it in my right hand. I squeeze it a few times, which pleases them.
    Kimberly walks in the room and greets my parents, then rechecks the various machines and monitors. When she’s done, she leaves. The Boyle family watches Ellen together. A little bit later, Kimberly comes back into my room. Following right behind her is another nurse who is pushing a stretcherlike table. It’s Victoria who gave me the sponge bath. My dad helps the two nurses position the contraption next to my bed.
    The next thing I know, I am lifted onto this table. A soft dark red cushion covers it. Kimberly explains, “Brian, the table you’re laying on now is actually a chair and what we are going to do is tilt you up so your body gets used to sitting upright again. You’ve been on your back for quite a long time, so now we are going to gradually transition you to being upright because it is going to take some getting used to.”
    Both nurses strap a safety restraint belt around my waist, tie my arms and legs down to both sides of the table, and gradually bring me forward. Pressure immediately builds in my lower back. My butt feels like it’s sitting on razors. The pain is intense. How long am I going to have to sit like this? I rapidly blink to get their attention, but they don’t understand what I’m trying to say.
    All of a sudden, my body spasms from the excruciating pain. The seizure arrives with a frightening fury, throwing my limbs out of control. My mom screams in shock and darts out of the room while my dad looks on in horror. My mouth is spewing red foam and saliva. Right before I vomit, the room goes all black as if someone has flicked a switch and mercifully cast me into darkness.
    I’m still stuck in an inclined position in this chair. The nausea hasn’t gone away. The room is spinning and I instantly throw up; disgusting vomit covers my hospital gown and bare arms and legs. The aggressive reflex from throwing up forces out the feeding tube that goes from my nose to my stomach. A nurse rushes into my room and cleans up the mess, changes my gown, and then leaves. Less than a minute later, she returns with a doctor who says that I now need another operation to replace the feeding tube. Why did I have to wake up and vomit?
    Morning. The old feeding tube is curled inside a plastic bag waiting to be picked up. Long, black, and thin, it reminds me of a snake being threaded deep inside my gut.
    My parents visit at eleven o’clock and we watch Ellen. When their