MEMORIES

SHADOW OF DEATH

May 20th, 1976. That's a day I will never forget because that's the day I almost died in the basement parking lot at police headquarters. Hutch and I were leaving the building, laughing and talking between ourselves, ready to call it day and head for home.

I was unlocking the car door on the driver's side of my Torino when several things happened almost simultaneously. I heard the sound of one vehicle apparently hitting another vehicle, I heard Hutch scream my name and I spun around reaching under my jacket for my gun, sensing danger but not knowing the source.

Then I felt an agonizing pain that seemed to engulf my whole body and it felt like I'd been hit in the chest with a wreaking ball. I remember falling forward and then there's nothing after that but blackness. I know that that two men disguised as Police officers and armed with sub-machine guns had tried to kill me and Hutch as we got into the car. Hutch saw them in time to duck down and was protected by the opposite side of the Torino. I was the one who got hit three times, caught in the open with no place to hide, when they started shooting.

Hutch told me later how he found me lying on the pavement beside the car, my head resting in the rear wheel well, my blood pouring onto the pavement around me, bleeding out from my wounds. Because the attack happened in the police garage, medical help was there almost immediately, just one of the things that probably saved my life that day. Even then, the doctors told me that I should have been killed instantly by the bullets that riddled my body that day but I wasn't. I should have died before they ever got me to the hospital. But I didn't. I should never have survived the four hours of emergency surgery to repair damage to my insides, But I did. My beating any and all of those odds alone was considered miraculous.

The damage to my body was massive. I had four broken ribs, a shattered left shoulder blade, a broken collar bone. My left lung was literally shredded. My right lung was partially collapsed. I had massive internal and external bleeding. There was damage to my left kidney, they had to remove my spleen and a small portion of my liver. And my entire digestive track had been torn to pieces. One bullet nicked my heart and another bullet barely missed hitting my spine. The doctors told everyone that day that I was going to die. They told them that the injuries were just too massive and that my body was too damaged to survive.

Hutch refused to accept that. Like an avenging angel, he tracked down the man responsible and brought him to justice. He was doing just that when my heart stopped beating. Captain Dobey managed to get hold of him and tell him to get back to the hospital right away. My heart was stopped for almost five minutes. The doctors were ready to give up. They had already tried shocking me three times with no success. Captain Dobey told me later that at almost the same second that Hutch burst through the door, yelling my name, my heart suddenly kick started and began beating again. The doctors were stunned and amazed. To this day, they still can't explain it. I was dead and I shouldn't have come back. But I did.

I may not be that religious anymore but in my heart I believe that it was Hutch's love that kept me here. That somehow, even when my heart stopped, his love reached out and pulled me back, refusing to let me go. No one else seems to have a rational explanation. The doctors told everybody that I was still wasn't out of the woods but damned if I wasn't still alive. That was an honest to god miracle.

I was in a coma for almost two weeks. I don't remember anything about any of that time. What I know about it is what I've been told by others. But somehow, even through I was in a coma, I could sense that Hutch was there by my side, comforting me and soothing me. Encouraging me to live. As I started to come out of the coma, I remember the awful pain, being barely able to breath, and being so scared. I didn't want to come out of the comforting darkness; I wanted to stay there where the pain couldn't reach me. But I could hear Hutch's voice, pleading with me, begging me to open my eyes. So I did.

I still don't remember much about those first couple of weeks after I woke up, except the pain, being in so much pain that I didn't think I could stand it. They had me on some pretty heavy drugs but they didn't seem to do much. They didn't make the pain go away. I can remember wanting to just curl up into a ball and cry, it hurt so bad. That's when Hutch started climbing into the hospital bed beside me and just holding me in his arms, to comfort me and help ease the pain the only way he knew how. And as long as he was there with me, lying by my side, I felt safe and protected and I could sleep.

I was in the hospital for almost two months. The doctors still couldn't believe that I had survived. I was their miracle patient, a testament to their skills and their expertise. Even when I was finally released from the hospital, I was far from being recovered. I still needed almost twenty-four-hour a day care and couldn't do anything for myself. The only way I was able to go home was because Hutch moved in with me to help take care of me and Ma came to stay with me for almost six weeks. Between the two of them, I slowly regained my strength and started to be able to do things for myself. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be able to finally take a piss by yourself after almost four months of needing someone else to help you do that? Or just to get out of bed by yourself without feeling like your body is gonna rip wide open and leave your insides lying on the floor?

I lived with so much pain for so long that when it finally started to fade away, I wanted to cry from sheer relief.

I was on so many different kinds of pills that my bathroom looked like a miniature pharmacy. I took pills for the pain, pills to help keep me regulated, stool softeners, antibiotics, pills to regulate my blood pressure, pills to help with my digestion, pills to keep the fluids from building up in my body, and some pills that to this day I'm not sure what the hell they were for.

My chest looked like a roadmap from all the scars from the bullet wounds and the numerous surgeries I had to have in order to repair all the damage (over eight of them all together in a three-month period of time.) And the healing scars and incisions hurt. They ached and itched and tightened up, pulling at my skin as they healed. Hutch used to give me massages that the physical therapist showed him how to do to break loose the scar tissue and keep it from drawing up so tightly. He also used a special aloe based cream that helped to keep the scars smooth and subtle. Because of his excellent care, today the scars are still there but they aren't that noticeable unless you are really looking for them. Of course it also helps that the ones on my chest and stomach are covered by my body hair.

It was six months before I recovered enough to start physical therapy. Up until then, in the hospital and at home, I was given range of motion exercises by the nurses or by Hutch that helped keep my joints and muscles from tightening up and contracting. They were painful but they were nothing compared to Physical Therapy. I had to relearn how to use my left arm all over again (and that was really difficult since I am left handed)

For months, I had no feeling in my fingers on that hand at all. I also had to regain the flexibility and the mobility in my left shoulder. In addition, I had to regain my strength and my stamina, and rebuild my muscle tone. It was a long and painful process that took another six months to complete.

My stomach continued to give me problems and I had to entirely change my diet. I was forced to give us the rich spicy foods that I love so much but my stomach could no longer digest so many of the foods that I had eaten before. Since Hutch is a health food frantic, that made him happy because I had to eat healthier. More salads, more fruits and vegetables, and less red meat. (Although I do still sneak a burrito now and then but we won't tell Hutch that)

My lung caused the most concern and took the longest to heal. The doctors told me that I would probably never regain full lung capacity again but I have managed to regain 94 per cent of it which is still more than they ever anticipated. But I still have to be careful because I am more susceptible to lung infections and bronchitis.

I have been warned that if I get shot again in the future, it will probably kill me. . The repairs were so extensive that if anything inside is damaged again, it will be beyond repair the next time. There just won't be enough healthy tissue left to repair again. I have to face the fact that I may never work the streets again as an undercover police officer. But I am alive and I survived an attack that would have killed any other man. So I have to believe that God had a reason for sparing my life that day. If I can't return to the streets as a cop then I don't know what I will do. I will be able to draw a disability pension from the department for the rest of my life but I can't see myself just sitting around all day doing nothing but watch TV. But no matter what happens or what I do from now on with the rest of my life, I know that Hutch will be there, beside me just like he has always been. Me and Thee forever.

Now that I have shared my memories with you, I hope that you know David Micheal Starsky a little bit better. I hope that you know now some of the things that have happened in my life that have helped to shape me into the man I am today. My joys, my sorrows, my personal losses, and my pain. I'm not a saint by any means; I'm just a man trying to live his life the best way he knows how. Hoping that along the way, I've touched someone or left a part of myself behind that will be remembered even after I'm gone. After all, isn't that what we all want? God bless you all.

THE END

So now my story about David Micheal Starsky has come to end. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope to hear from you now that you've heard the end of this particular story.

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