To say the very least, 2014 has been a year both difficult to describe and even more so to forget…
Several months ago, I had my left leg amputated below the knee leaving the important leg joint intact luckily so to make certain functions like walking, driving and such just a little more possible.
My memories of my sickness as it intensified is at best to me a fading black and white photo album of fleeting snapshot remembrances.
I remember certain parts that just may be part of my own selective mindset. I remember holding my sister Christine tightly as I lay waiting for my surgery, never wanting to let her go; telling her that I loved her and never meaning the words more in my life. When I was a young boy, I would also call her Mama, so proud of her beauty and the loyalty shown to her baby brother.
I remember my brother-in-law Doug’s look of fright and concern as he sat with me, I will never ever forget the respect and admiration I felt for the decent, goodhearted loving family man that my friend of so many years had become.
I can remember looking at my beautiful niece, Jessica, and vowing to myself that I needed to take a more active role in her life and future. She had become such a beautiful, kind young woman and not to do so would be entirely my loss.
How does one describe the memory of my wonderful 95-year-old Mom, Wanda, so loving and caring and loyal to her youngest child after yet another tragedy befell her eventful life. Due to some bighearted hospital officials she was able to spend the first month of my recovery in a second bed in my hospital room.
Just a few days ago, I was explaining to her the grieving process that I’m still going through dealing with the loss of my limb. I told her that I always had my leg, I was damn used to it. It was there when I was growing inside of her and some of my earliest memories in life were my Mom and sister playing with my little chubby toes. Do I miss my leg? Only every minute of every day and most likely will until I close my eyes for the last time. But truth be told my amputated appendage has nothing to do with my heart, my brains, and the fingers that I write with.
I also have so many memories of my dear friend and gifted surgeon, Dr. George Vincent, whose talented skills, friendship and easy going confidence gave me my life back. It certainly wasn’t an easy surgery, I was so full of the poisonous infection that my heart and life briefly came to a sudden end. But I must admit its never easy to kill off a big determined ox of a Pole like me, and I had just too many things that I needed to do in my life. But it would be the shock of my loss and the subsequent recovery that would test my resolve like nothing before except the losses of my dearest Father and brother in the years preceding this event.
One memory that is imbedded into my memory is about my dear brother, Richard, whom I loved so much and how I would have gladly given up my leg to be able to spend an hour again with him and tell him how much I love and miss him. He was not only my big brother but as such was my very first hero in life.
Also the thoughts of my oldest brother George, a special gift from God whom I love so much that gave me strength and a purpose to fight this adversity with all my might.
I honestly did want to die in the hospital, I actually stole a plastic bag off a cleaner and hid it under my pillow with the plan of suffocating myself with it, but I knew deep down that it was something I could never bring myself to do, especially with my Mom staying in the same room. She had had enough death in her lifetime and needed to spend the remaining years of her life with her entire existing family at hand.
I had to stay alive now, I had a responsibility not just to myself but to the large group of people that make up my family both blood related and the just as important extended one.
This brings me to the important vital roles that your friends and extended family play in your life. Without a doubt in my mind, I would not have recovered the way I have without the support and love of you guys.
On top of the list are my bosses and dear friends Judi McLeod and Brian Thompson, who were there for me from the beginning and supported me through my tears and darkest times. The debt I owe you guys I can never repay.
My old buddy David Bailey and his beautiful Mother, Sally, I owe you so many thanks for my sanity and well being. The tenderness and love you showed me was vital to my very sanity. I truly love you two!
Viktor Mitic, a talented artist and longtime friend, you’ve always been there for me and I love you for it. Other than my family, you were the first one there.
I will never ever forget my great buddies Richard Souce and John Melich, who were among the first there to support and show me their great hearts of friendship.
To my beautiful talented little sister Agnieszka Kiesz, who would visit me, bring me books and offer me comfort during my darkest days.
To Margaret Bonikowska who would come and hug me and bring me Polish treats like the pickled herring I so craved and fresh fruits that helped my recovering health make its comeback.
Kris Tomczak, who would come see me even though I knew of his intense fear and loathing of hospitals.
Dr . George Jackowski, his wife Janice and his entire family, who took care of our pets, gave me such love and support, I will hold you guys forever so deep in my heart.
Jamie MacDonald, my buddy and pal who would bring me pizza slices that I so craved for and watch movies with our mutual buddy Stumpy. I Just can’t ask for a better friend.
Will never, ever forget my buddy Bucky Ohara and his beautiful Mom, Betty. I don’t think I could have gone through it the way I did without you guys. Bucky is a talented chef of renown and some of the weekly feasts would make a televised cook like Bobby Flea look like a burger flipper at Mickey Ds.
To my dear beautiful friend, Ula, always thought of your incredible heart, smile, smarts and laugh that has illuminated me and always brings sunshine into my life that has been so clouded over by darkness recently. You mean the world to me.
How can I ever forget the emotional impact that my dear childhood friend Bobby Rabjohn’s visits every Saturday meant to me. Friends since the age of 12, he suffered a tragic motorcycle accident at 18 that has confined him to a wheelchair. I still tear up when I think of how much he and his wife Bernadette mean to me and how important it was to have a dear friend there that could truly relate to my loss--even though his loss was so much greater.
To my dear friend George Chuvalo, your laughter, jokes and inspiration that your many visits to me, gave me so much joy during the time, but your strength as my role model has helped make me the man I am.
To my family doctor, Mory Gutman and your wife Rina, how can I ever repay the love and care you have given me, including all the hospital visits, along with the incredible care you have given me after I've come home?
To my oldest friend in the world, my 'big brother’ Tom Peckham, whose long distance calls to me (always when I was trying to nap) meant everything to me..the jokes and subjects we talked about can only be shared by brothers. And your sister Mary’s calls to me were just incredible to my flagging spirit. The beautiful redheaded Mary Ellen, was every neighbourhood kid’s dream girl and she still has that effect on us mortal males.
How could I forget the incredible friends I’ve made in the past few years on my book tours. The friendships that I have developed Stateside with such dear people as Robert Johnson, cousin Sharon Martin (Zawadzki), Chris Conaway will last forever, as I hold you close to my heart.
And that of course leaves me with Steve Buffery, my buddy since grade 9 and unofficial sounding board in my adult life. I may scream at you, boot you out of my truck over 20 bucks, berate you on the strangeness of your idiosyncrasies, but I wouldn’t trade your friendship for a million dollars.
In fact, truth be told, I wouldn't trade any of you for any amount of money however tempting it may sometime feel. In this the last thought of this exhaustive letter of thanks, I will make a vow to you all. You have my absolute promise that I, already so far into my recovery process, will never quit such pursuit of such. I plan on staying here in our mortal world for many many more years to come! I plan on burning my self out never to allow myself to rust. Now the downside of this sacred vow I make to you just maybe that from now on all of you are just simply stuck with me.
Good luck, world! Thank you for giving me back my life.
