I Just Got Shot (More or Less), AMA

[A. E. Lowan]

And then we have mine.



I'm reading through this and suddenly I'm five again and my dad, Navy Medic among other things (lots), and his guys hanging out and telling me I couldn't tell anybody what they were talking about because then they'd have to kill me. And we wonder why I turned out this way. lol

 

[Malik]

Lookin forward to dyin someday.

There is nothing to be afraid of. Just don't be in a hurry. Trust me on this.

 

[Malik]

Yeah that's the general consensus of many NDE'ers.

One big piece of it is that nobody believes me. It's one of those "I believe that YOU believe you saw that" things. Which I thought was a cliché until everybody said it, except my parish priest, one therapist, and a Buddhist Army Chaplain, all but one of whom grabbed notepads and started writing furiously. I don't talk about it anymore. Better suited to a fantasy novel.

 

[Malik]

Yeah, that's some nervous shit. I was being stupid once, and a jam hot fired on me in a piece of shit 9mm. Now, I didn't have it pointed in a dangerous direction, but that was more habit than smarts. There was a reason a guy once said he didn't want the TEC-9 outlawed because if a gang was shooting at him, he wanted them to be shooting that junk.

In Basic Training, a Soldier in our company had a negligent discharge (ND) at the range and very nearly shot me through both cheeks of my ass. The round impacted to my left but just a couple of feet behind me. That would be a scar to talk about.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

Good God, man, I'm beginning to think the ranges have it out for you.

In Basic Training, a Soldier in our company had a negligent discharge (ND) at the range and very nearly shot me through both cheeks of my ass. The round impacted to my left but just a couple of feet behind me. That would be a scar to talk about.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

I haven't experienced a NDE, but there are things... plus I know two people who had them, and the guy who died in LAX saw nothing but blackness, but we both figured he was just going to hell. Yeah. I believe it.

I will add... though my friend at LAX didn't see anything, he has zero fear of dying now. None.

One big piece of it is that nobody believes me. It's one of those "I believe that YOU believe you saw that" things. Which I thought was a cliché until everybody said it, except my parish priest, one therapist, and a Buddhist Army Chaplain, all but one of whom grabbed notepads and started writing furiously. I don't talk about it anymore. Better suited to a fantasy novel.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

Man, I'm visualizing a Bugs Bunny moment. My Bugs moment, or maybe Keystone Cops, was on a twenty foot ladder. The feet slipped out, and I rode it down a bit like a falling surfboard and landed with both feet slipping between rungs. I just stood there wondering how the hell that happened without even banging a shin. The next day body parts hurt from the landing's impact on concrete, but landing and just stepping out of that ladder was freaky.

Just gonna say, if was in the army and no NDE’s and no getting shot. Seems my angel was working harder.

Had a whole window frame fall out of a building and smash all over me once in fort dix, but not even a scratch. It fell from six stories up.

I did that without coming to attention... friggin' hell that was nasty. And stupid on my part. At least you had an excuse.

I did burn my hand once coming to attention after a firing exercise. Guess what, those barrels are still hot.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

Bad asses never die. A favorite line from Natural Born Killers.

I am WAY too mean to die.

My unit was told I died--they sent the Chaplain and the rear-detachment Executive Officer to deliver the news to my wife, and that was fun--and when they got the word like a week later that I was alive, my whole team was like, "of course he is."

Six months later, I scored a perfect 300 on the PT test and shot a 38/40, and they mobilized me again.

 

[pmmg]

Just gonna say, if was in the army and no NDE’s and no getting shot. Seems my angel was working harder.

Had a whole window frame fall out of a building and smash all over me once in fort dix, but not even a scratch. It fell from six stories up.

Yeah... The full story is....

The whole company was waiting for buses, and we are all cleaning our rifles. I was sitting with some near the wall of the building....on my ruck. As army types may know, if you lean on stuff, people like to fuss at you, so I was a little away from the wall.

Anyway...above me, others were cleaning windows, and one just pushed right out of the hole for it in the building. The whole window, frame and all, fell and smashed all over me. I think the bottom edge hit my ruck, and the glass just splashed over me, the top of the frame fell over my shoulders, so that I actually had to step out of the window to walk away.

To me....there was no damage. No harm no foul and strange stuff happens. But everyone else was like Dude....You should be dead. I was like...Well, i'm not hurt, and it does not get me out of rifle cleaning duty, so.... I'll just sit over there.

Thinking back on it, that was also the same weekend one of our LT's got hit by a truck and killed during a road march. I didn't know him though.


The other fun thing about Fort Dix is all the deer ticks. Everyone got at least one. They sent us all home with Lime disease pills.

 

[Fyri]

I went down with heatstroke and rhabdo on a, uh--ahem--exercise, ahem--flatlined on the chopper with massive organ failure, came back because F*ck You, and spent a week in a coma. (Full, feature-length NDE and while this isn't the place for that, yes, it was awesome. Excited to go back some day. But as the man says, Today is not that day.)

I was able to write the big death scene in The New Magic from firsthand experience, though. BTDT.

*eyes raise at the "week in a coma"*

And what was recovery like for you?

 

[Malik]

*eyes raise at the "week in a coma"*

And what was recovery like for you?

About 3 months in a wheelchair--wrote Dragon's Trail from the chair--one more to get from walking to running, and a couple more to get to running fast again. Headaches, PTSD, and fighting the Army at every turn because Army hospitals are apparently insane asylums for healthcare workers who have completely snapped. I started rebuilding myself in the gym a couple of hours after I left the hospital bed, and returned to my unit in the best physical condition of my life.

 

[A. E. Lowan]

One big piece of it is that nobody believes me. It's one of those "I believe that YOU believe you saw that" things. Which I thought was a cliché until everybody said it, except my parish priest, one therapist, and a Buddhist Army Chaplain, all but one of whom grabbed notepads and started writing furiously. I don't talk about it anymore. Better suited to a fantasy novel.

I think I may actually know what you saw, because I've seen it, too. But! everyone knows I'm crazy, all the novelling and stuff, so I can talk about it without too many incredulous looks.

I was supposed to die in a car accident. I'm Irish, my grandma from Cork always said I had the Sight, and it was just one of those truths you understand should be kept to yourself. So, one day in October I'm driving up north to see my wife who'd gone to university a semester before me - we had to wait to start college because sometimes the people who make you are monsters, and sometimes they make you the monster, but that's another story. I'm doing about 80mph because I drove like a lunatic and irony is ironic and there's this weird little blank spot in my memory, like the tape skips, and then the car starts a low slide out of control, and my ass is pointed backward.

And sitting in the passenger seat was a shadow person, and the only thing I can call it was Death. I knew with certainty why they were there, I knew it was time, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "No. I'm not done, yet." Perfectly calm. And then the tires hit the median and I was spinning a Ford Tempo on its nose in the air across two oncoming lanes of highway.

That part, I do remember. I had grit in my teeth, and my hair had blown out the open window at my side and was sheared off. If I'd listened to my dad and not worn my seatbelt, it would have been my head and writing the Books of Binding would have gotten a little more complicated. But, as it was, I spun seven times in the air, landed on the hood with enough force to crush the wheels like the legs of a bug, and I walked away with a scratched hand, whiplash, and fun hair. Didn't even break my glasses.

When the car stopped, Death was gone. I have no clue when I'll see them again, I do know they've missed a few appointments with me so the next one is theirs to schedule. And until then I'm just living maybe a little harder than I used to and finding all the things to write about.

 

[Devor]

One big piece of it is that nobody believes me. It's one of those "I believe that YOU believe you saw that" things. Which I thought was a cliché until everybody said it, except my parish priest, one therapist, and a Buddhist Army Chaplain, all but one of whom grabbed notepads and started writing furiously. I don't talk about it anymore. Better suited to a fantasy novel.

The day will come where they will know, one way or another.

Glad the bullet didn't demolish your typing finger.

 

[Fyri]

About 3 months in a wheelchair--wrote Dragon's Trail from the chair--one more to get from walking to running, and a couple more to get to running fast again. Headaches, PTSD, and fighting the Army at every turn because Army hospitals are apparently insane asylums for healthcare workers who have completely snapped. I started rebuilding myself in the gym a couple of hours after I left the hospital bed, and returned to my unit in the best physical condition of my life.

Wow! Wild how one week of laying in bed can do so much. With all that you dealt with, I'm impressed it was not longer! Also that you say you ended up in the best physical condition of your life. That must have taken so much dedication and determination. Somewhat frightening to hear about the healthcare workers, though understandable.

I have a character that gets sent into a coma, and I'm still debating how long it will last against how long they'll have to recover alongside how much I'm willing to bend reality for a story, which I hate doing. Thank you for your willingness to share your experiences!

 

[Prince of Spires]

Glad to read that you're about as good as possible, given what happened.

Writers are weird people. I think they're pretty much the only ones who go "Some terrible shit happened to me. Great! I can now use that in a book!"

 

[Fyri]

Glad to read that you're about as good as possible, given what happened.

Writers are weird people. I think they're pretty much the only ones who go "Some terrible shit happened to me. Great! I can now use that in a book!"

XD I think it is very good therapy! "At least something positive can come from this."

 

[A. E. Lowan]

XD I think it is very good therapy! "At least something positive can come from this."

Totally agree. Writing is cathartic. It lets us take ownership of our traumas and that alone is valuable beyond price. That it also lets us reach out to others with similar traumas and helps us all to find a sense of community and peace.

Plus we're also entertainers and a good story is a good story.