Over three months ago, I laid out a plan to blog about many social and technological topics. Since then, I’ve covered approximately 0 of those. At the time, I had thought that I’d be spending a good amount of time camped out on a sofa,  meditating and reflecting. Instead, life returned to normal far more quickly than I had anticipated. I returned to work at Resonant Vibes before Thanksgiving and haven’t really looked back since.

However, much has happened. My case has broken, my wife and I traveled to New England for Christmas, then to Florida to attend a wedding and, along with a friend/co-worker, I spent an educational several days at  developer’s conference in beautiful Sandusky, Ohio.

Although I was not expecting much progress, I was impressed by the persistence and diligence of the detective assigned to my case. Several times in the past months, he has patiently presented photo packs of potential perps for my review. Each time, I was dismayed by my inability to recognize either of the perps in the photo packs. The detective kept coming by to present more photo packs. I had a suspicion that my memory of the events were somehow lost in the fog of traumatic shock and anesthesia, however, the detective (and other friends) assured me that recognition would come swiftly if I saw the perps again.

Unfortunately, the gentlemen accused of my shooting were not content to lay low after the leaden gift they bestowed upon me. In the weeks following my attack, they are accused of having committed several armed robberies and having shot another fellow. I am unaware of the condition of the other guy they are accused of shooting, but I do hope he pulls through and recovers at least as quickly as I have (by the way, if anyone has any information on the other shooting victim, please feel free to contact me). In mid December, the two young men were suspected to have robbed China Dragon, the very place at which they shot me. This time, they used a sawed-off shotgun. Apparently, the measly .22 with which they greeted me was deemed ineffective. Fortunately, the police recovered the shotgun, and this (I believe) lead to the break in the case.

I received a call from the detective on the morning of January 7th. An arrest had been made early that morning in the China Dragon armed robbery case. Because the suspects fit the description of my perpetrators, we set up another photo lineup. After having viewed many such photo lineups, I was not optimistic that I would be able to identify my shooter or his accomplice. However, I went ahead with the photo lineup that evening. The first set of pictures I saw only confirmed my doubt. I had resigned myself to the possibility that my memory of that night had been truncated.

However, being shot is a rather vivid experience. An experience that, as the detective knew, is not likely to disappear into the ether forever. As I was presented with the second photo pack, I was overcome with a strange feeling of familiarity. It’s hard to describe, but I saw a face with which I was well-acquainted, as if I had known the chap my entire life. The feeling of familiarity was immediately followed by recognition. I knew it instantly: I was looking at the face of the guy who shot me. On television and in movies, such sparks of recognition are often accompanied by terror or dread. To be honest, in my case, I was somewhat elated. If only because my doubts about my own memory were disconfirmed. The LMPD had caught the guy and I was excited.

The following day, the suspected shooter confessed. He and his accomplice are in metro corrections custody and will remain there until their pre-trial conference on February 4th at 10:15am. It seems that they are charged with attempted murder, murder, armed robbery, aggravated assault and other felonies. So, they will likely plead guilty to several of the charges and spend a good part of the next decade or two in prison. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this…

I’m not a vengeful person. I can’t help but wonder about these two young men: their upbringings, their states of mind, their parents, siblings, schools, friends, etc. It’s easy to dehumanize them. And, frankly, they are not the least worthy of dehumanization. However, as a person who does not subscribe to a Manichean worldview, it’s not possible for me to stash these fellows away in the evil file. I am curious about them. I sincerely want to know more about their lives. And honestly, I feel a bit entitled. They chose to inject themselves into my life and I’m compelled to reciprocate. For now, I’m glad they’re behind bars. I’m glad they won’t have the opportunity to shoot, rob or injure any other person or entity for quite some time. Still, I’m reminded that these people were born tabula rasa. I’m curious about the conditions, experiences and choices that lead them to China Dragon on November 3rd.

For now, though, I’m moving on. My life has returned to normal. I’m still sorting out all of the medical bills and will no doubt be doing so for quite some time. However, I’ve settled into my daily schedule at work. Although a recently-surfaced programming bug might suggest otherwise, I have not been overly distracted. I’m looking forward to 2010 with an appreciation for life that I’ve lacked in previous years. When I reflect on the events of the past few months, hopefully I’ll remember to remind myself how lucky I am.

I may still get to some of the topics I laid out back in November. However, I’m planning to use this space to blog about the things that I think about on a daily basis. For now, that’s likely web development and programming. So, if that sounds at all interesting, go ahead and bookmark this page or subscribe to the feed. Otherwise, thanks for reading and know that you’re always welcome back.

However, I’ll start this post with an update on my general state of being:

It’s been just over four weeks since I was shot. One of my biggest struggles thus far has been finding the most acceptable way to refer to the incident. Initially, it seemed rather cool to casually mention that I had just been shot. Upon first returning to the wild, the likelihood, on any given day, of my donning a V-neck was exponentially greater than at any other time in my life. I must admit that I got a bit out of a kick out of people’s reactions upon announcing that I’d recently had a bullet shatter my first rib and tear through my lungs and heart.

Recently, though, the novelty has worn off. Aside from the reminder provided by the still very visible scars, the whole rigamarole seems relegated to the distant past. It’s as if my mind has placed the events of the night of November 3rd in a hermetically sealed container, not unlike the way my left lung is (hopefully) partitioning the 22mm slug lodged in it. Still, I’m growing weary of referring to “my shooting” or “the incident” or, even worse, “the accident”—while it’s possible that the fellow who shot me accidentally discharged the weapon, I’d be remiss to refer to the seemingly intentional ambush as accidental. Perhaps I could call it “the misunderstanding” ? If anyone has any suggestions, I’m open to them. I would imagine that, in the early days of spoken language, humans might have referred to each other using long-winded descriptions, such as “that one idiot who, instead of killing and eating animals for sustenance, has stupidly decided that he can cultivate wild flora and produce edible vegetable matter in predictable cycles”. Nowadays, we’d just call that guy Pete or Biff or something simple like that. So, I’m looking for a proper noun, preferably containing fewer than five letters, that expresses everything I experienced and felt on the evening of November 3rd of this year. Again, ideas are welcome.

You were promised an update on my general state of being… I’m doing quite well. Upon first returning home, my entire thorax throbbed. Flights of stairs were intimidating. Shortness of breath was commonplace. My father was kind of enough to buy me an aluminum walker, however, sadly, it did not come with tennis balls to protect the wood floors, so I was forced to discontinue use of the walker almost immediately.

I have returned to work at Resonant Vibes (RV). Everyone @ RV has been extremely patient and understanding throughout “the ordeal”. And for that, I’m deeply grateful. Since I’m a programmer, my responsibilities don’t require me to move much, so the return to work has been somewhat seamless from my end (my co-workers may beg to differ). Stay tuned for a post on RV, my duties there, what we’re trying to accomplish and why you should check us out.

Many concerned friends and family members have suggested that I seek treatment for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Fortunately, I have yet to experience any of the symptoms of PTSD. While I understand and appreciate their concern, I have maintained that preemptively treating a disorder that has yet to manifest itself is not, in my opinion, a good strategy. Perhaps this is because, as a programmer, the maxim “don’t optimize too soon” has been drilled into my head. Or perhaps it’s because I am unjustifiably distrustful of anyone identifying oneself as a therapist. Perhaps it’s because “the happening” was such a random, isolated occurrence. The odds of my being randomly shot twice are comfortingly slim. I take solace in numbers. Especially infinitesimal ones that describe the probability of my absorbing another bullet.

It occurs to me that this post already numbers nearly 700 words. While I have yet to address any of the promised topics, I have provided a general update on my state of being. That will have to suffice until my next post.

Actually, I’ll continue a bit more. Since the holidays are upon us, we’re all looking for ways to exchange our money for gifts to give to ourselves and others (much further down) on our holiday gift list. So, I’ll share some of my favorite sources for holiday gifts:

• Aunt Sadie’s Candles – Aunt Sadie’s is a Boston-based manufacturer and retailer of (in my opinion) the best scented candles in the world. The candles are simple, sleek and extraordinarily well designed. The holiday-themed candles evoke a sense of nostalgia similar to that inspired by the Burl Ives cartoons, Bing Crosby songs and fuzzy-fond memories of Chritmases past. And the scents, especially the Pine scent of the Snowy Tree Candle are second to none. So, if you’re considering candles for those on your Christmas (or Hannukah or Kwanza or other gift-giving occasion) list, look past those tacky, syrupy-sweet Yankee offerings and go straight to Aunt Sadie’s. In the interest of full disclosure, I must say that Aunt Sadie’s is a client and I consider them friends as well. However, I loved their candles before either of those relationships was established.
• That’s really it. Just buy candles. They’ll even giftwrap and ship them for you.

The past week has provided me quite a bit of new data to process. Much of it I’m still sifting through, organizing and attempting to assimilate. Some of it is collecting in a pile somewhere in the back of my head, just waiting to randomly present itself. Needless to say, there are many things on my mind and I’d like to start airing them out a bit. So, please bear with me, or, point your browsers and readers elsewhere if you’re so inclined.

Many of these issues and topics have been on my mind for years and I discuss them regularly with my family and friends. However, after having been randomly shot and having come so close to death, I feel as if these traumatic experiences have significantly informed my worldview. Although I tend towards the the diplomatic and do not think myself a Misstra Know-it-all, I feel compelled to speak up a bit. Furthermore, I feel a social responsibility to share my perspective.

Among the topics I’d like to discuss are:

• Utility of online social networks
• Economics, or why people so often make decisions that run counter to their own interests
• Revenge and anger
• The not uncommonly held belief that the world is ending due to anecdotal evidence that people are becoming more evil in spite of contradictory statistical evidence
• Hopelessness among the urban poor and how this social problem affects everyone
• Guns, rap and violence and where are the GenX+ Marvin Gayes and Sam Cookes?

The end of that list skews rather heavy and you’re likely thinking that, as a programmer, I am in no position to comment on such issues. And you’re probably right. I don’t fancy myself a sociologist, economist, psychologist or any other kind of -ologist. However, I do fancy myself a dude with an inexpensive shared hosting account (Webfaction), access to open source software (like Ruby on Rails and Mephisto) and a good deal of time on his hands.

So, stay tuned if you’re up for it…

For the next couple of weeks, as I recover, I won’t be able to get around too well. So, in my restlessness, I’ve decided to start a blog to document the recovery process, reflect on the event that will almost certainly have a significant, lasting impact on my life, and to express deep gratitude towards all of the people who have stepped up to support me and my family.

It probably makes sense to start by recounting the events on the evening of November 3, 2009:

Earlier in the day, my wife phoned me at work to suggest that I pick up Chinese food for her later that evening. She was studying for medical school block exams and was feeling too stressed to leave the house. Only a couple of days earlier, I had received a text from a friend suggesting that I try the newly re-opened Cafe Mimosa. However, fearing that the restaurant could very easily spontaneously combust, I decided to play it safe and try China Dragon. After having lived around the corner from China Dragon for two years, I had always meant to try it and thought that this would be a good occasion.

I arrived at China Dragon ~ 9:15pm. The sign on the door stated that the dining room closed at 9:30, so I decided to place my order at the counter instead of using the drive-through window. This was likely a poor decision, but the outcome may have been just a grim had I been a sitting duck in my car. In any case, I looked over the menu and place my order: 1) Beef with vegetables and 1) Chicken with broccoli and an order of crab rangoons as the wife had requested. The kind woman at the counter commented that I appeared unfamiliar and asked if I was a new customer. She politely switched out white rice for the included fried rice and sent me away with a smile.

While I had been sitting and waiting for my order, I noticed two young men pass by on the sidewalk on the west side of parking lot. I didn’t think anything of it, but did note it. Upon stepping out in the to parking lot, I noticed these same two young men in the southwest corner of the parking lot standing near the dumpster. Before I could get to my car though, the two started running towards me. They were both yelling something to the effect of “give me everything”. I immediately noticed that one of the two had a gun trained on me. As they got closer, between 5-10 feet from me, I could see that they were visibly agitated. Their tone of voice was angry and they were yelling to me to give them my wallet, my car keys, everything. I told them that I only had a debit card and some Chinese food. At this point, the young man on my right, had his gun pointed gangster style at my chest and was becoming more upset. Clearly, something I had done had greatly upset them. I was stunned and do not remember exactly what I said. I do remember reaching into my coat, presumably to retrieve my wallet. I was not armed (as I do not own weapons other than kitchen knives), however, I believe the other unarmed gentlemen yelled something to the effect of “he’s going for a gun”. I could be completely wrong about that bit, as it all happened so quickly, but whatever I did at that point seemed to result in the armed man firing his gun.

Upon first seeing the two fellows coming towards me, I experienced a deep sense of forboding. However, upon noticing the weapon, it looked pretty puny. In fact, I told the responding officer that I thought it might have even been a starter’s pistol. Nevertheless, as they ran towards me, I knew that no good was going to come of the experience. I can’t say with absolute confidence that I knew I was going to get shot, but it certainly crossed my mind. And sort of hung heavy in the fore of my consciousness for the next several moments.

Getting shot was surreal. The bullet hit between my right nipple and armpit. I believe I turned my body away from the shooter right as he discharged the weapon. The impact felt like an extremely tight punch to the chest. I certainly felt an incredible burst of energy as it hit me. It knocked me back a few steps, but I don’t remember feeling an intense burning sensation, nor do I recall feeling the bullet tear through my chest. In fact, I couldn’t find the bullet wound at all initially.

After having fired, the two gentleman ran south towards Finzer St. While I may have run after them under different circumstances, I did not fancy getting shot again. Shocked, I turned towards the restaurant doors and noticed the 3 employees standing inside the doorway looking somewhat startled. I walked towards the door and asked them to let me in. I told them that I thought I had been shot and asked them to call the police. At this point, I was beginning to feel feverish and weak. I laid down on the floor between the doors and started to drift off. One of the employees woke me up and encouraged me to move to the chairs at which I had been sitting waiting for my food. Once laying across that bank of chairs I started to drift off again. I had convinced myself, at one point, that this was just a dream. However, after waking up laying across a row of chairs at a Chinese takeout restaurant, I knew something was off.

By this time, my right lung had collapsed as the bullet had hit it pretty directly. Unbeknownst to me, my other lung was filling with blood as the bullet had also knicked my heart, causing it bleed into my chest. Still, I tried to remain alert. At the time, I thought it was really only a minor injury. When the police officer arrived, I attempted to provide a full description of the two fellows who had ruined my night. I told the officer that I didn’t think the gun was even real and that, even if it was, it seemed pretty small and cheap. By this time, I had found a bullet wound though. Had I been more lucid, I would have noticed that it appeared to have entered going across my chest from the right to the left. I tried to stand, but the officer encouraged me to lay dow and wait for EMS. I asked him to call my wife and gave him her number. He was supportive and kind, as were the people working at China Dragon. Never before, had I been so relived the see police officers.

I’m not sure when the ambulance arrived, but by then, I was fading pretty quickly. The two women with EMS asked me some questions and encouraged me to stay conscious. I don’t think that they were fully aware of the extent of my injuries at the time, but they must have noticed my vital signs plummeting.

When I got the ER, I had pretty much lost my vision. Someone asked me my name and social security number. The responding officer, who had already gone to retrieve my wife, appeared to let me know that my wife was in the waiting room. At this point, I began to experience some of the most excruciating pain of my life. Since I likely hadn’t been breathing too effectively for minutes, I believe the trauma team was forced to cut tubes into my chest to drain the blood. They also inserted a catheter, and I believe, a main line in my groin area somewhere. The last thing I remember was groaning in intense pain. Then, nothing.

When I came to next, I was in the ICU, still groaning; though now, I was groaning for morhphine. Not sure how I knew that morphine was what I needed it, but I was begging for it. My requests were satisfied. I remember my family being there. I remember my wife seeming inexplicably ecstatic. Over the next 12 hours, I was still pretty stoned, but I remember a parade of loved ones appearing by my side. I felt strangely serene and happy. It probably had a lot to do with the drugs, but I had a distinct feeling of contentment that I don’t remember ever having experienced before. It was like I had always expected to feel on Christmas morning as a child, but without the stupid, selfish disappointment of not having received that one transformer or that completely unrealistic-because-it-hadn’t-been-invented-yet helicycle. I remember feeling that things had changed.

So, clearly, my injuries were more severe than I had originally thought. After assuring my wife that I was going to be fine, I believe the responding officer went back to his duties. Unfortunately, I had fooled him. I wasn’t so okay. Expecting to see me shortly after arriving at the ER, my wife grew increasingly concerned as she heard nothing from the hospital and as a parade of surgeons seems to flood into the ER. The first word she and my parents heard, shocked them profoundly: I was in a critical condition and they should prepare for the worst. My wife was inconsolable. Her despair was such that others in the waiting room were moved to tears of sympathy. I’m really, really glad I was not there to witness that. I really can’t imagine such an awful update. Hours passed before another update was provided. My family noticed one surgeon after another trickling out. They took this as a good sign, as they were not prepared for the alternative. Finally, after, what must have seemed like days, the responding heart surgeon emerged to tell them that I had been stabilized. The ER trauma team had stabilized me by draining the blood from chest cavity and re-inflating my lung. However, not aware of the extent of my injuries and fearing irreparable damage to my heart, they sent me to surgery.

In surgery, I was treated to a sternotomy and thoracotomy, the routine means of access in open-heart surgeries. Fortunately, having been knocked-out, paralyzed and having had my body temperature dropped, I don’t remember any this. I had tubes place on the sides of rib cage and a y-tube in the middle of my chest. After having opened me up, the surgeons found that the bullet had only grazed my left ventricle. My heart had already clotted. After having hit and collapsed my right lung, the bullet came to the rest beneath (or perhaps in or just outside of) my left lung. It turns out that the ER trauma team, in stabilizing me, had saved my life. I am deeply grateful to everyone I encountered that evening (with two notable exceptions). From the responsive employees of China Dragon (who could have kept their doors locked and hid in fear of being shot themselves), to the supportive responding officer, to the EMS responders to the trauma team, everyone played a necessary role in saving my life. I was extremely lucky and hope to repay all of those people in some way.

That about does it for the first post. I’m sure I’m leaving things out. I’ll add more details as time goes on. Thanks for reading and thanks for supporting me.