What it Feels Like to Get Shot with a Gun

Sometimes, when I hear a sudden, loud sound, or a realistic gunshot in a film, I flinch. Often, when I'm just drifting off to sleep, I flinch.

There are so many people nowadays--even kids--playing first-person shooters and watching zombie apocalypse films. Actually, in my world, zombie films went out of style years ago, yet they persisted on this earth and expanded, just as violent games have.

By and large, if I drift along the interweb current for enough minutes, I inevitably find those who have, at least in their words, little or no respect at all for human lives. They are, or at least seem to be, absolute evil haters at their core. Are they? Maybe some, but I think it's more about desensitization. They don't--or can't--think about what they're really saying, or about what it actually feels like to go through something like what they suggest, or how it would affect others.

That's why I want to share with you a little something about getting shot with a gun.

Almost ten years ago, I took a point-blank shot directly to my abdomen, right through my belly-button, from a .44 revolver. The bullet headed straight for my back.

No one shot me. I wasn't in and never was in a gang. I wasn't playing with the gun, causing it to accidentally go off. I placed the bullets into the chambers, cocked the hammer, turned the barrel around on myself, and pulled the trigger. How do you like that?

I didn't intend to "kill myself," at least, not directly. If I had, I think I would've put it to my head or chosen a different, less painful method. The truth is that, over the years and especially at that time, I had so many people turn away or against me that I actually began to doubt myself. Their group effort caused me to begin believing that maybe they were actually right about me. Maybe I wasn't the good guy, hard-working husband, or awesome father I thought I was. The actual truth was, and is, that I am the best father and parent I know.

Sadly, my blind eyes weren't able to see that in December of 2007, just three days before Christmas, when I sent some hot lead screaming through my body, decidedly changing my life forever.

My idea was simple yet stupid. My thinking was clouded by depression and isolation. I was no longer able to believe 100% that my daughter, then just 7 years old, really needed me. I didn't feel like her Superman anymore. I decided to take the gun, which my father had ironically given me to protect myself, plug myself in the stomach and put my life in the hands of God. In my irrational and ridiculous thinking, if my daughter was better off without me, then I'd die. However, if I wasn't the bad guy my soon-to-be ex wife was making me out to be, then perhaps, just perhaps, I would live and could spend the rest of my life making changes for the better.

You should probably know by now that I made it. It's 2017 and I'm alive. What happened, though? What did it feel like? What did I think? What did I go through? What did I learn? I'll try to summarize for you---and I hope that you can take something useful away from all of this.

First off, a direct gunshot to the body, as best as I can describe, feels like a sledgehammer head instantaneously going through your body--not a small "bullet." It rocks you and tears you in an instant. The only reason you know that something happened at all is because of the pain--which gets much worse. This gun was pointed at my spine and it should've gone into my back, causing who-knows-what kind of damage. I could be paralyzed--but I'm not. In the gun, there were also some hollow-point rounds. If you don't know what those are, I dare you to look up images of what they can do. Those bullets are like little bombs. They cause massive holes--this would've killed me for sure, and painfully.

So the bullet, for some reason the doctors don't understand, took a sharp turn and veered away from my spine, going down and to the right, striking my hip (which caused a slight fracture), and then changing directions again before exiting my back--barely missing my spine. The entire bullet path looked like a "Z" shape.

My ex knew something was up and had called the police. They arrived later and after a long, grueling bout of increasing pain, they got me to the hospital and scanned my insides to see exactly what they were looking at. When they realized that there was only one puncture to my small intestine, they were shocked. No organs were damaged, my spine was intact, and only a slight fracture to my hip. A major surgery was needed to slice me open and fix my intestine, but it seemed that I had survived with the least amount of damage possible.

My roommate for a while, a great guy who fought in the Middle East, didn't believe my story until I showed him my surgery scar with deformed belly button and my exit wound in the back. This brought tears to his eyes because he's seen friends close to him get shot more than a couple of times--and he says no one has ever had less damage than this. He wasn't angry with me, though, as some in my family and "friend" circle, if you could call it that, were. He understood how it could happen.

The pain didn't stop and has never stopped for me, actually. I live and I manage okay but I've had another major surgery to repair damage done to my fascia from the first one, resulting in two hernias. Now, I have a mesh that's from an animal in order to keep my organs where they belong, and my abdomen muscles neither look nor function right. If I overuse them, they hurt and even cramp up. No more heavy lifting or working out for me--gotta be careful. I seriously have no desire for third surgery.

The point here is that if you get shot with a gun, there is no way to take it back. It is an unforgiving, cold and harsh reality of pain. It removes all of the dark clouds from your eyes and shows you the truth. It shows you that you were lost but, now that you can finally see, it's too late. You can just shift and get comfortable. It's not like a stomachache or a headache. You can't change positions in bed and go back to sleep. You can't just take an aspirin and drink some water to make it go away.

You can't take it back. Once you jump, you're done. Once you pull the trigger, you're done.

Take it from me--I know. It's not worth it. I'm so lucky that I can't even begin to imagine just how lucky I am. I know this, however: there isn't a single moment I regret it when I think about it. However, I am so very thankful for another chance to stick around and try to figure out what this life is about. It's all that matters.

It might be fun to some to play shooters, but the reality is far removed from this fantasy. If you knew what it felt like, your point of view would be changed forever.

By the way---I never become depressed anymore. Since then, I've finished my bachelors degree, moved abroad, visited several more countries, made several films, become a leader in work, and built my own businesses and products.

It's my hope that your eyes are clear, as well. Try again--you can do it.