Finding Support During Recovery: Strength, Hope, and Second Chances
Updated: Sep 4
Recovery can be a difficult road.
I know because I've had to walk one.
After years of pain and escalating prescription medication use led to dependence and a near-fatal medical crisis, I spent approximately three and a half weeks in a coma.
When I woke up, surviving was only the beginning.
I faced physical limitations, rehabilitation, wounds that took years to fully resolve, and the reality that my life wasn't simply going to return to the way it had been.
One of the most important things I learned was this:
Recovery may be personal, but that doesn't mean you have to go through it alone.
Family, friends, healthcare professionals, faith, work, and the willingness to accept help all played different roles in helping me rebuild my life.
Support didn't do the work for me.
But it helped make the work possible.
Learning to Accept Help
Before my medical crisis, I was accustomed to being independent.
I worked.
I ran a business.
I took care of my responsibilities.
Then suddenly I was in a position where I needed other people.
That wasn't always easy to accept.
After approximately three and a half weeks in a coma, my body had been through tremendous trauma. My left side had been severely affected, and I had to relearn how to accomplish things I once did without thinking.
I spent about eight weeks in rehabilitation at the VA.
There were healthcare professionals helping me.
There was my family.
There were friends.
I eventually learned that accepting help wasn't the same thing as surrendering my independence.
Sometimes accepting help is how you begin getting some of that independence back.
Family Experiences the Crisis Too
One lesson I understand much better today is that a serious medical crisis doesn't happen only to the patient.
My family went through it too.
My daughter Cynthia and my former brother-in-law Steve found me unresponsive after my mother became concerned because she couldn't reach me.
My daughter called 911.
Then my family had to wait while I remained in a coma for weeks.
I don't remember those weeks.
They do.
That's an important distinction.
While I was unconscious, the people who loved me were living with fear, uncertainty, and questions about whether I would survive.
When I woke up, they didn't simply forget what they had experienced because I was alive.
Recovery involved all of us in different ways.
That's why I believe family support can be so important after a major medical event.
The person recovering may need help.
But sometimes the family needs support too.
Professional Help Has a Place
My experiences also changed the way I think about healthcare.
Today, I believe strongly in becoming an active participant in your own care while working with qualified healthcare professionals.
Ask questions.
Understand your medications.
Keep an accurate list of what you're taking.
Make sure your healthcare providers know about other medications and relevant medical conditions.
Speak up when something concerns you.
And when a situation requires specialized care, don't be afraid to ask whether a specialist or another qualified professional should be involved.
That applies to physical rehabilitation, pain management, prescription medication dependence, behavioral health, and many other aspects of recovery.
There is no single recovery plan that is appropriate for everyone.
What matters is finding qualified help appropriate to your individual circumstances.
The Right Support May Change Over Time
What you need immediately after a crisis may be very different from what you need six months or five years later.
Early in my recovery, physical rehabilitation was a major priority.
I needed help learning how to function again.
Later, the challenges changed.
I had to adapt to lasting physical limitations.
I had to return to work.
I had to rebuild independence.
I had to deal with medical complications that continued long after the immediate crisis.
And I had to decide what kind of life I was going to build around the person I had become.
Recovery wasn't one problem with one solution.
It was a series of challenges that changed over time.
The support I needed changed with them.
Friends Can Make a Difference
Some of the moments I remember most from recovery aren't dramatic medical breakthroughs.
They're moments involving people.
Friends who showed up.
People who treated me like Robert instead of simply a patient.
People who reminded me that there was still a world outside hospitals, rehabilitation, wounds, and medical appointments.
Those relationships mattered.
When your life becomes dominated by recovery, it's easy to begin defining yourself entirely by what happened to you.
Good friends can remind you that you're still more than your medical history.
You're still the person they knew.
Maybe changed.
Maybe struggling.
But still you.
Faith Became an Important Source of Strength
Faith has also been an important part of my journey.
When you've come as close to death as I did, it's difficult not to ask questions.
Why am I still here?
Why did I survive?
What am I supposed to do with another chance?
I don't pretend to have every answer.
But I believe I was given a second chance.
My faith helped me find meaning in that.
It gave me another reason to keep moving when recovery was difficult.
And over time, it helped change the question from:
“Why did this happen to me?”
to:
“What am I going to do with the life I still have?”
That was a much more useful question.
Support Doesn't Replace Personal Responsibility
There's another side to this that matters to me.
Support is important.
But other people can't make every decision for you.
They can't do all the rehabilitation.
They can't ask every healthcare question.
They can't make every difficult change.
And they can't take responsibility for choices that belong to you.
My own story includes circumstances that were outside my control.
It also includes decisions that were mine.
Recovery required me to acknowledge both.
I've learned that accountability and support aren't opposites.
In fact, good support often helps you become more accountable.
The people who genuinely care about you aren't always the people who tell you exactly what you want to hear.
Sometimes they're the people willing to tell you what you need to hear.
Finding the Kind of Support You Need
If you're going through a difficult recovery, your needs may be completely different from mine.
Depending on your circumstances, support might include:
family or trusted friends
your primary healthcare provider
physical or occupational rehabilitation
qualified mental health professionals
pain-management specialists
professionals experienced with medication dependence or substance use disorders
peer-support or community groups
veterans' services
faith communities
other appropriate local or national resources
You don't necessarily need all of them.
And you don't need to solve everything at once.
Sometimes the next step is simply identifying one person who can help you determine what comes next.
Don't Wait Until Everything Falls Apart
One thing I wish I had understood earlier was the importance of speaking up before a problem becomes a crisis.
If something doesn't seem right with your health, medication use, emotional state, or ability to function, don't automatically assume you have to handle it by yourself.
Talk to someone.
Ask questions.
Tell your healthcare professional what's actually happening.
Let somebody you trust know when you're struggling.
If you're concerned about prescription medication, don't abruptly stop taking it without appropriate medical guidance. Some medications can cause serious problems if suddenly discontinued.
And if you or someone around you is experiencing a medical emergency—such as severe difficulty breathing, loss of consciousness, or being unable to wake—call 911 or your local emergency number immediately.
Why I Share My Story
I wrote Almost Gone: A True Story of Survival, Coma, and a Second Chance because I eventually realized my experiences might have value beyond my own family.
I can't give someone else a blueprint for recovery.
I'm not a doctor, and my memoir isn't medical advice.
What I can do is tell the truth about what happened to me.
I can talk about pain.
Prescription medication dependence.
Choices.
Consequences.
A near-fatal medical crisis.
A three-and-a-half-week coma.
Rehabilitation.
Family.
Faith.
Accountability.
And the long process of rebuilding a life I nearly lost.
If somebody recognizes part of themselves in my story and decides to ask for help sooner than I did, then sharing it has served a purpose.
Strength Doesn't Mean Doing Everything Alone
For much of my life, I associated strength with independence.
Recovery taught me something different.
Sometimes strength means admitting you need help.
Sometimes it means listening when your family is concerned.
Sometimes it means asking a healthcare professional another question.
Sometimes it means allowing a friend to show up.
Sometimes it means leaning on your faith.
And sometimes strength is simply getting up and trying again tomorrow.
I survived something I wasn't expected to experience.
But I didn't rebuild entirely by myself.
There were people who helped me along the way.
There were professionals who worked with me.
There was family.
There were friends.
There was faith.
And eventually, there was my own decision to keep moving forward.
That's what support during recovery means to me.
You still have to walk your road.
But you don't always have to walk it alone.
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