Oxnard—This Frosted had so many working titles: the year I grew up, reality hits you like a dead fish in the face, and so many more —but I settled on the title and will relive the worst year in my life since my divorce.
THE year 2025 started strong as always, and my transplant protocol was well underway, with the only remaining obstacle being the Colonoscopy.
The Colonoscopy went fine, and I was home within a couple of days, Thursday, to be exact. I threw up the night I came home, a first back then, but by Sunday, I felt so horrible that I couldn’t get out of bed.
At about 10:30 p.m., I had to go to the bathroom. I wasn’t moving too well, and when I sat down to go, Janis, my wife, said the toilet was filled with blood.
Janis dialed 911, the ambulance came, and I was on my way with lights and sirens, with Janis following behind.
After an exam, I found out the polyp they took out of me had burst, hemorrhaged, and was bleeding.
That led to five different surgeries, and the fifth one caused massive damage to my hip and damaged…
