Following the accident, I was feeling no pain again, as my doctor ordered shots of Demerol every 3 hours. With both legs in casts, blind in both eyes, and lying in a hospital bed, I could not describe how lonely I felt. I was in a state of total powerlessness, not knowing what was next for my life.

I was completely coherent and could tell those two men had entered my room. I recognized the voices of my ophthalmologist and orthopedic surgeon. I could tell that they were both disgusted with me, as this had been my second alcoholic accident in two years.

I heard them talking to each other, but not necessarily to me. One doctor said to the other, “What do you think we ought to do with him?” The other doctor replied, “I think we should put him in a nursing home, as he is not much good for society.”

Now feeling powerless and high from the pain medication, I was thinking, “No, just let me go home, for my girlfriend will take care of me!” The doctors consulted with each other at the end of my bed, without talking to me. When they left, a feeling came over me that is best described in a phrase from one of my now inspirational books, Alcoholics Anonymous. I was finally at a point of “Pitiful and Incomprehensible Demoralization.”

Suddenly, I realized I had hit rock bottom and could not sink any lower. Although it did serve one purpose, I think it had reached a point in my self-esteem value. I realized that it was showing me a mirror of how I was feeling about myself. Another way to look at it is that I had a starting point, as low as it was. Though I would not wish this on anybody, here I lie—in bed, alone—and a reality started to kick in.

Suddenly, I realized that life was changing forever and that I could not get back to where I was. Then I thought of all the things I used to do, and even the things I used to complain about doing. I wish I could do them now. I had a sudden awakening about how reckless I was and how much I took everything for granted. Something started happening.

As family and friends started coming into my room, I heard some of them crying. I asked them, “What are you crying for? I am the one that got hurt!”

This happened with many of them, especially the females in my family. I could not understand why they were crying, and that they cared for me and cared about what happened to me.

Do not get me wrong, our family had tons of love for each other, but I was so self-centered that I could not see them trying to say that they loved me and that they cared for my life in their own lives. This time, I spent two months in the hospital, dependent on the medical system.

As we went on, with little communication between the doctors and myself, my ophthalmologist did the best he could, and my orthopedist ordered all the pain medicine I asked for.

I became very addicted to the drug Demerol, and I know in my heart that if I had had full access to it, I would not be alive today.

My doctor was so free with allowing the injections of Demerol that I got to the point of extreme addiction, and I was hallucinating. Ann contacted the doctor about my behavior, so the doctor stopped the Demerol and started me on codeine.

The Long Recovery

It was time to go home after spending 60 days in the hospital. I had casts on both legs, and I was blind, as the battery acid burned my corneas to the point of leaking vitreous fluid. My eyes looked so bad that I looked like a monster. They were mostly sunken in and anything but white. There were even blood vessels trying to grow where the whites of my eyes were.

Before getting out, I needed to meet the requirements to leave. Therefore, they tried to get me out of bed a couple of days before I left. They sat me upright in a wheelchair. I felt so wobbly and so weak, dependent on anyone but myself. The nurse wheeled me down the hall to the elevator. We went down to the floor where the physical therapy room was. This day was not in my plans, and I was not willing to be cooperative.

One of the physical therapists came over to me and wheeled me over to a set of parallel bars. He said, “We are going to get you up walking today, Dan.” I said, “No, you are not!”

I had never been so afraid in my life, and I could not even conceive of the thought of ever standing up again. Then a group of them persuaded me, even picking up my arms and placing them on these parallel bars. I guess I can call this my new physical starting point.

Therefore, I started working at it because I wanted to go home, and I realized that they did not want me there in the hospital any longer. Finally, after about five days of therapy, I was in the car on my way home. We lived in a mobile home at the time, and I had no idea how I was going to get up the stairs to enter. My brother Bill was there. He helped me get into the wheelchair, wheeled me around the home, and rolled me up a ramp that he had built for me.

He also placed a window air conditioner in our bedroom, as it was the peak of the sizzling summer. Ann was taking care of me, with each one of us having five-year-old boys living there.

I now look back, and I feel so bad for all of them, as I was responsible for cutting off the role that I had as husband to Ann and father to the boys. They certainly did not deserve this life, with me being as dependent as I was.

It was time to schedule my medical appointments and even hospital visits, as I had multiple health issues and drugs to take. Ann became responsible for everything in this household. She had a full-time job, taking care of me and trying to raise two five-year-old boys at the same time.

I had never asked Ann to take care of me, but she filled the role of caretaker in my life.

This accident had brought me to the point of total dependency—physically, mentally, emotionally, and, unknown to me at the time, spiritually.

The emptiness I was feeling was so intense and lonely, so dark and dismal.

I felt helpless and hopeless. It was not a fun place to be. Besides the above feelings, I felt so much shame and guilt for having to take accountability for these accidents and then laying the responsibility all on her. In addition, I had intense feelings of cheating the boys out of having a normal dad.

It did not feel good at all. No longer was it just lonely in the hospital—I was feeling the loneliness even more now, confined to a bed. My world and the lives of everyone in it had undergone a permanent change. The alone time started increasing in my tiny bedroom as the people that I knew had to get on with their own lives.

I believe that God may have allowed me to start to grasp the reality of my life as it was because I had yet to hit bottom spiritually.