Jason Cotton's Blog

People call me a hero and my responce is no, no I’m not.  I don’t argue with them, it’s their beliefs not mine.  The reason why I don’t like to be called a hero is the pedistal effect.  By that I mean you get put up on a pedistal and you are destined to fall off of it because you fail to fulfill their expectations of you.  All I’m trying to do is stay alive.  I’m not perfect by any means.  I’ve hurt people very close to me with things I’ve done and said, how is that a hero?  Just my thoughts as I sit here trying to deal with things.

This weekend was full of them.  I was honestly asking myself why the hell was I doing this, why was I putting myself through all of this pain?  Was it all worth it?

The definitive answer is yes.   All of it is, without it I wouldn’t have been able to talk to my sister and joke with her about moving and her bull headed dog that couldn’t get it through her head hey that collar shocking means I’m not in my yard anymore.  Or sit and make my mom laugh talking about a movie her and dad just watched.  Or sit and help a friend, talking to them for a couple of hours (getting yelled at times, which was much deserved).  During that conversation I was able to also really tell them what was on my mind and the things I was feeling.

If I didn’t fight I’d have none of this.  They may seem small to you but they really aren’t.  These are the things that make life worth it.  Not your job, not your pimped out car, but your friends, family, and the ones you love.  They are the ones that make it all worth it.

So today they are taking blood out of me.  Now that seems counter productive, put it in take it out….. (get your mind out of the gutter)  We will see how much if anything got accomplished or was this last round for naught..

By no means is it pretty nor are the after effects. People ask me when I wake up do I know that I’d died. Um yeah all I have to do is feel. And unfortunately the last couple of times I’ve died. I’ve been aware, yes folks I feel every cut, poke, slam, tube shoved into my throat, and the cracked ribs.

This pain and duality of being in my body and not being there honestly is creepy. I go to the Valley but yet part of me still feels everything being done to me. I was gone for a very long time this go around and it has effected me in ways I don’t really understand and am trying to cope with.

This post I decided that instead of painting a picture with my words describing to you how I feel and what was done I’d show you. The picture that is on the next page is GRAPHIC don’t say I didn’t warn you. The staff took pictures as they were working on me since I was down so long. This is the pain I feel.

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