I Had to Mourn the Loss of My Younger Self
Originally posted in The Havok Journal
by Shane Jernigan
After an amazing four days on ketamine two years ago, I started to have emotions I’ve rarely had in life. Growing up in violence and dysfunction rewires the brain; to say I was hardened to the world is an understatement. But this was a necessity for me, if I had allowed emotions to guide me when I was young, I would’ve ended up dead. All I knew in life was getting kicked down and getting back up. So, I always kept moving forward in life because allowing emotions to guide my direction was a waste of time and I didn’t have anything or anyone to fall back on.
Fast forward 32 years of more pain, trauma and misery and getting back up, over and over. This was despite decades of pain, surgeries, near death incidents and more surgeries and pain than I thought a human could manage. My goal was always to return to some semblance of my former self. I predicted to my wife that my 50s were gonna be my golden years. She laughed; I wasn’t joking.
Fast forward another 16 years and I am now doing things that the medical world can’t comprehend. Doctors are now asking for my secrets to healing and recovery. I spend much of my time cataloguing and documenting medical, physical, and psychological effects of my training so I can help other disabled veterans. Then, recently I saw an old childhood friend for the first time in decades and one of the first things she said was, “You’ve had such a hard life it makes me sad.”
It was kind of a reality gut punch. I fancy myself a pretty chipper dude, but the reality that someone else is saddened by my miserable life, gave me pause. I had been so hardened by having a, let’s say “rough life” since pretty much birth, that it never occurred to me to feel sad because feeling sorry for myself would be pathetic and weak. That’s when the emotions started to arrive, emotions I’d never felt; well, not for myself at least. I’ve had a lot of loss in life and have mourned for the loss of those close to me on many occasions, including my baby brother.
I tried to harden myself but those four days of meditating on ketamine had awakened something inside me. It’s was at this point that my logical mind tried to reason with this new emotional side, but in the end, it was my reasonable side that erred on the side of emotions. I went back to that day, now 30 years ago, when my life changed forever. I didn’t know on July 22nd 1994, that it would be the last day I would ever not be in conscious pain. I fell from the sky the following night on a combat training mission.
I fell over 120 feet after my parachute had a low altitude malfunction. I had six spinal fractures, a blown knee, broken shoulder, detached bicep and a plethora of other injuries that would take, in total, nearly 20 years to find and 30 years to understand. I wrote the book on pain management, almost literally. Okay, I wrote a very long published article on the subject, but I was now having these feelings of loss.
That’s when it hit me. I wish I could go back to July 22nd, 1994 so I could give 22-year-old Shane Jernigan a hug. It’s hard to look back 30 years to that day, realizing what that young man was about to go through for the rest of his life. It made me sad, too. So, I allowed myself to cry for 22-years-old Shane, not present-day Shane. What was in the stars for 100% Shane? We will never know, and that makes me sad. It was cathartic to say the very least.
What happened next was a surprise; I smiled, for present-day me. The fact is, I’ve defied the odds. I’ve defied the naysayers, and there were many. I’ve defied the doctors and the American medical community as a whole. I’ve given a middle finger to the VA medical system that was fine with me dying a slow painful miserable death. Only two doctors gave me a chance, then I rebuilt me. Now, every doctor wants to meet me and I am a poster boy for Ohio State Military Medicine, literally.
I have been teaching, coaching and mentoring disabled athletes, veterans and even disabled children now, for four years. I have founded my own nonprofit to continue to push the limits of human endeavor and provide free training, adaptive sports, and wellness to my fellow disabled Americans. I was skiing with able-bodied ski instructors recently and only two could keep up with me. At the bottom of the run, we were all stoked because of an awesome run and the lead instructor said, “Dude, you aren’t disabled!” This, when seven years ago I was nearing catastrophic health failure and death.
There were many times over the last 30 years that I wished that I’d died when I crashed into the earth at 100mph on July 23rd, 1994…many times. Have I suffered, yep. But in the end, I have risen like the Phoenix and have changed the story of my life and how it is going to be. I live on my own terms. So, as I celebrate the things I am now able to do, and the fact I am “able” enough to help, teach and coach fellow disabled people, I still give myself permission to feel “sad” for young Shane Jernigan; occasionally!
Shane was a former elite athlete (football & wrestling) who left college after getting hurt to pursue his dreams of being in U.S. Special Operations as a Ranger in the 75th Ranger Regiment. He spent 13 years in the military before being medically retired in 2005/2008. He served in 1st Ranger Battalion, the 173rd and as a Ranger Instructor and Combat Diver at 6th Ranger Training Bn. Since retirement, Shane spent the last 19 years as a tech entrepreneur while enduring a grueling full body rebuild to include multiple artificial joints and amputations. He’s been training and competing in para-sport and adaptive sports since 3 weeks after his initial amputation and now teaches, coaches & mentors disabled children, adults, veterans and Rangers.
Most recently, Shane started an adaptive sports & wellness program for members of the 75th Ranger Regiment in partnership with over a dozen national Adaptive Sports Organizations. In his spare time, he is still involved in LED & renewable technologies, writing and curing PTSD with psychedelics. He also competes for U.S. Special Operations Command on Team SOCOM.
