Free Iron Heart: The True Story of How I Came Back From the Dead by Brian Boyle, Bill Katovsky

to see that I’m able to greet her. She is usually all business. Or maybe she was only like that with me because I couldn’t speak.
    Both Francine and Victoria lift me from my bed onto the angry chair. The way it’s positioned, I can get a closer look at the photos pinned to the wall. In most of them, I’m in a good mood, smiling. Yet I feel discouraged seeing the muscles I had developed over the many years of weight training and competing in sports. There I am getting ready for a race at a local pool, talking with Coach Covey before a track meet, doing one of my bodybuilding bicep poses. There are several pictures of me with my parents that were taken on our trip to Jamaica in June. Photographic evidence of pre-accident Brian is nearly impossible to reconcile with the present. I must have lost over seventy-five pounds. How am I ever going to get back into shape again? Is that even possible, or will I be confined to a wheelchair? The walls start closing in on me again as I feel the dark, looming pressure of the unknown tightening its grip on the future. I look away from the photos. Thankfully, my therapy session is starting.
    We begin with the usual routine of lifting legs, squeezing hands, and pushing feet forward. As we go through each set, I tell them—it’s so great to talk!—that it hurts my tailbone when I sit for very long in the angry chair. Victoria says that the pain is due to my broken pelvis, which was shattered in the crash. Since I lost a lot of weight, the tailbone is putting additional pressure on nerves in the area that used to have a lot more body-fat support. She finds a small donut-shaped yellow cushion and places it under my butt. Wow! That’s so much better. The pain practically disappears and I thank her for the good deed. She walks outside my room to work on my medical records and daily paperwork.
    Under Francine’s guidance, I lift my right arm ten times. Even with her direct and serious personality, it’s clear that she is amazed at how rapidly the recovery has been going. I glance up at the clock, and I see that it’s almost eleven. My parents will be here soon. Will I be able to ask them about the accident? I decide to first test the waters with Francine.
    “Um, what other bones were broken besides my pelvis?”
    She looks confused. “Nobody has told you?” she responds. I continue to stare at her with a blank look, letting her know that I’m clueless. “Well from your medical records and from talking to your nurses and doctors, I don’t really think anybody thought you were actually going to make it. I remember a few weeks ago, I would pass your room and when I looked at you, my heart would break, every single time. You looked like you were in so much pain. I see a lot of patients come in here who are in really bad shape, but you looked like you were ready to slip away any minute. Some people who have undergone much less trauma do die, but here you are. I don’t want to frighten you, but I feel like I’m talking to a ghost.
    “And, as far as your injuries, I know that many of your ribs were broken, both lungs were collapsed. I was told that your heart had shifted to the opposite side of your chest, but it kept beating because you were fit and healthy. You’re like Superman to have gone through what you have, or maybe your heart is just made of iron. Whatever it is, your recovery is beyond belief. You had so many surgeries and operations while you were in the coma. Some of your organs, like your spleen and gallbladder, were removed. You had kidney dialysis, life support, and a ventilator keeping you alive.”
    Yes, I think, I’m still alive.
    She adds, “Because your pelvis was badly damaged from the impact of the crash, that’s my big concern at the moment. I’m sorry to have to say this, but it will be another miracle if you can walk again. On the bright side, look how far you have come already.”
    I now know why my parents and everyone kept telling me that I only had a