Iron Heart: The True Story of How I Came Back From the Dead (13 page)

In Jamaica for my senior graduation trip. Two weeks before the accident.

July 6, 2004. My smashed-up Camaro. This crash-scene photo is haunting.

My last day in Intensive Care before being moved up to the eighth floor. The tracheotomy tube had just been removed from my throat.

Depressed and discouraged, I had lost one hundred pounds by this point. I feel like a skeleton boy.

My towering medical file. My parents were always signing papers authorizing surgery and treatment.

My first day at the rehab center in Baltimore. Looking down at my broken body, I can only think, “Lord, where do I go from here?” Full recovery and a normal life seem impossible.

Six months after getting out of the hospital. I used to be able bicep-curl 50 pounds with each arm for repetitions, and now I struggle to lift the barbell with five-pound plates on each side. This is hard, psychologically and physically.

Me and Rachel Gearhart, a special person and friend. She was there for me through both good times and bad.

Me and Dr. Daee, my trauma surgeon, July 6, 2005.

Me and Dr. Catevenis, my Intensive Care doctor, July 6, 2005.

Me and Dr. Naficy, my heart surgeon, July 6, 2005.

Bulking up at the gym two years after leaving the hospital. The bodybuilding passion is back and bigger than ever.

August 2007—From bodybuilding to triathlon. About to go for a practice swim on the day before the Steelhead 70.3 half-Ironman in Lake Michigan. One racer waded by me and said, “With all those muscles, you might sink to the bottom.”