After a few days and some major antibiotics, my secretions began clearing up again. What's more, my temperature began dropping for the first time in the now six weeks since the accident. Dr. Frank walked in and said, "Looks like you're getting stable enough to realign your neck. How does that sound?"

'Finally,' I replied silently.

"See you in the morning, bright and early," he said with a smile and left the room.

The respirator had not been set to four bpm since that one long horrible night. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get to four. My gross intake had seemed to level off at 400 cc's. That would never be enough and it was clear to me that getting off the respirator was becoming less and less likely.

I thought of what I'd been through since I'd been imprisoned by this life changing malady. I'd contracted pneumonia twice with body temps hovering at times at 105 degrees. One side of the horseshoe shaped crown holding the heavy traction had slipped an inch requiring me to endure more stinging lidocaine injections at my tender temple to prevent the real pain of screwing the bolt into my skull. I still have an inch scar on the left side of my head caused by the slippage.

Because of the less than desirable nutrition offered by the hospital to its patients, I was eating less and less until I'd ultimately loss 30 pounds. I'd gone from a lean 175 pounds to a fragile 145. I was finally put on an anorexic diet and was made to drink straight potassium with breakfast and eat a banana with every meal. The potassium came as a liquid in a small cup and had the nastiest flavor that had ever crossed my tongue. We would mix it with a strong fruit juice, usually orange, then put a spoonful of honey in it. I would gulp it quickly and take a bite or drink of something else immediately afterwards to mask that atrocious taste.

Would the surgery bring any change? How much damage had the spinal cord endured? At the very least they would be removing the traction that had kept my neck, my only remaining working muscle, motionless. It would be a positive step toward stability. Then I could get back to the business of getting off this blasted respirator and go home.

The surgery took longer than expected, according to Dr. Frank, but the objective of realigning my spinal cord was reached. He later allowed me to see the before and after x-rays. The work he did was incredible . The vertebrae was completely broken front to back and the spinal cord was crushed between them.

Back in my room, after I'd awakened from surgery, I noticed a difference in my breathing. It was easier. I had the R.T. pull out her trusty spirometer and measure a full breath. It had gone from 400 cc to 650 cc. I talked to Dr. Frank and he reported that they discovered and removed a bone chip in my spinal cord. This apparently released the flow from the brain to the diaphragm causing a portion of it, the left side it turned out, to work better. It would also eventually effect my left bicep allowing me to bend my left arm... but never enough to make use of it.

The next morning when Dr. Bregman came in, he asked me if I was ready to pick up where we left off at four breaths per minute. I told him about my improved breathing and that I felt ready to beat the machine. I'd become a changed man. After the long, arduous fight where I'd felt that I was being beaten, I found the enemy's weakness. I was the challenger and the champ was down. He would be up again but not for long.

I could see the light at the tunnel's end and it was beautiful. I could taste victory and it was delicious. I have met the Giant and he will soon feel my stone.

After two days and nights on four bpm, the respirator was set to two. In two more days came a setting called "flow-by" where I breathed pure oxygen on my own power. In two more days I spent a night breathing room air on my own. There was no recurring whoosh of sound from the respirator. It just sat beside my bed with the power "off" through the night for the first time in over six weeks. The next day, orderlies came in and collected the web of hoses that had served as my chains, placed them on the defeated Giant, and rolled it out of the room. If I were thinking, I would have asked for its severed head.

Dr. Bregman walked in next. I looked up at him and mouthed the words, "You saved my life."

He looked at me quite seriously and said, "It wasn't me. It was you."

It was a defining moment in my life. Perhaps the single most important event in my life besides accepting Jesus. It was like being born again but not from anything that was given me. This was a life I claimed on my own by the sweat of my brow, by the strength of my will, by the grace of my God. Of course, I had no idea what lay ahead of me but there couldn't be anything compared to the battle I'd just fought and won. Surely my worst days were behind me. I had climbed the mountain, swum the Channel and defeated the giant.  Could there ever be a challenge more difficult than that?  I had to ask.