San Diego, CA
Bio: On July 13th 1984, at the age seven, while running alongside a friend who rode a bicycle for the first time, I succumbed to the pain of a headache that felt a root canal inside of my brain. Running toward the house, I told my friend I needed to lay down. Inside, laying on the couching, listening to sounds of lasers from the video game, I drifted into unconsciousness. For seconds. Or moments. Or maybe longer. I lay there. Dying. Only for my mother's screams to waken me. She tried to get me to stand. I couldn't stand. She tried to feed my soda crackers. I couldn't eat. I could only watch the terror in her eyes. I could only listen to the horror in her screams. I felt like a fish staring into the porthole of a drowning submarine, watching victims scream in desperation. Now, almost 30 years later, the only visible signs of the aneurysm that almost left me dead, are the scar on the back of my neck and my limp. They are my testimony. People don't ask about either that often, I suppose either because they don't pay much attention or because they are afraid asking me will offend me, but both are my testimony. Treated like a porcelain doll by those who wanted to preserve the miraculous gift of God. Treated like an object of ridicule by children who needed someone to laugh at because they considered me different. This blog is about the miracles God performed in my life that caused my doctors to admit to my parents, “Medical science cannot explain your son's recovery.” It is about my journey toward healing, not physical healing but emotional and spiritual healing. It is the story of me growing up. This is the story of me . . . On becoming human.