​Things come back to me in flashes.  The coma was 3 to 5 weeks.  I had no memory of it for a very long time but now certain things come back.
I have a vague memory of pulling all the tubes out of my body.  A friend told me a story about the aftermath of that incident.  My doctor entered my room in the ICU and started yelling at the nurses for allowing the incident to occur.  I had a trach tube in so speaking would have been impossible.  My friend tells me when the doctor got to my side I gave him the middle finger. "It figures you would defend the nurses against a bully"  my friend told me later.  Apparently the nurses got a big kick out of my action. I have no memory of this event. 

I was told I was capable of great violence and rage.  It's my understanding this isn't unusual with brain injury's.  I don't remember being restrained but I have a scar on my right wrist.  I asked a buddy if he knew how I got it he replied "buckle from the restraints".  Again I have no memory of this.
As I was coming out of the coma there were a lot of strange hallucinations.  I became very fearful, this was new to me as throughout my life I wasn't afraid of much.  I'm not saying I was the bravest cat on the block but not much really scared me.  After I emerged from coma I was frightened of everything.  That has since abated, mostly
Three months after I emerged from the coma I tallied up the bills.  Three Quarters of a Million dollars.
The fun was about to start.

Having been discharged from U of M hospital after my death, six weeks of coma and several weeks in the ICU I ended up staying at my aunt's.
Taking an odd concoction of drugs with complicated dosages, and sleeping 15 to 20 hours a day was the norm.  Every couple of days I had to go to Ann Arbor for blood tests and treatments.  This became increasingly difficult as where I was staying was a good 60 miles from Ann Arbor.  A buddy would come by and load me up for the trip.  Once at the clinic I was loaded in to a wheelchair and pushed around to whatever department was on the list.
At one point I was wheeled in to an office and asked a lot of questions I didn't understand.  After that "meeting" I was wheeled up to a small operating room where my feeding tube was removed.  After the removal a nurse taught me how to self inject myself.  Why?  I had no idea.

The "meeting" was with a social worker who, I was told later, was going to get a drug company to pick up the tab for a new drug they were going to try out.  Several days later I received  a phone call from the hospital that my syringes were ready and the $8000 per shot had been waived.  EIGHT GRAND!!!

My friend Steve went to Ann Arbor to pick up the drugs, and continued to do so for several weeks,  and he told me the lab mixed it right there and told him to be very careful as it was very expensive.

Every afternoon I'd measure the proper drug intake for that day then I'd plunge the needle in to my stomach and inject the drug, as I had been taught.

After several weeks I just stopped the injections.  It was too much and I noticed no change plus my friend Steve, although he never complained, was tired of making the trip.

I'm still here so I guess stopping didn't hurt me.