Oh S!&t, this is not gonna be good.
Our handsome, bright, popular and witty son was going to University of Kentucky studying German and Mandarin. He wanted to get an MBA and move overseas. Great plans. Then the wheels started to fall off. We think it started when he was mugged walking back from a frat party around four in the morning. They left him for dead. He woke up in a gutter and managed to walk to the nearby ER. Odd things started to occur. He lost his bike, then wallet, cell phone, Repeatedly. My wife and I were baffled. He always had it together. It just got worse and worse. He dropped his classes. I wanted him to come home to live. His mom kept giving second chances. He enrolled again, we paid out of state tuition and he dropped out again. Around Christmas 2013, he drove back to Cleveland after being up for three days. He fell asleep at the wheel and drove under a tractor trailer going 70 mph. It was a miracle he survived. As I relive this, it could be dozens of pages so I will get to the point. On August 14, 2014, he came up to our bedroom with a big kitchen knife and stabbed us both 14 times. As he walked into the room, he stabbed my wife in the leg. My first thought was "Oh s* This is not going to be good. "He came over to me and I got it in the left lung. At that point I went into shock and can’t remember any more. My wife did though. According to her, I struggled with him to disarm him. In the mean time, we both got hit 13 more times. Most were non life threatening slashes. But I got three bad ones. Each should have killed me. Carol called 911 while my son and I were fighting. He decided to leave and walked out the back door. The police arrived and took us to the nearest ER. I died upon arrival. Once again in the ER. Then again on the way to to level 1 trauma center. I spent six weeks in the ICU. Another in the step down unit. My wife spent eight days there. I am still experiencing issues from that night. Still having surgeries to repair things. Rob is doing great. He is on his meds and waiting for the court to release him to a halfway house to start to get on with his life. We visit him four to five times a week. He is back to his old smart witty self. We never lost hope and love him as much as we did before he got sick.
