If anyone remembers me, here's an update.
kamyk
Registrant
Some of you might remember me from last year. I found this site, posted about my abusive family, and how I was kidnapped and trafficked at age 7. I was posting somewhat regularly, and made some friends here. A couple of members still talk to me offsite. Then a few months later I ended up in the hospital. Anyways here's a refresher and an update a bit over a year later.
All my life I had issues with my digestive system. I won't go into specifics no one wants to hear. I sought out medical treatment for decades, and the medical community failed me every time. A year ago, October 8th 2024 the lower part of my large intestine literally exploded. The surgeon who saved my life said it was the worst case of diverticulitis he'd seen in his entire career, and that it looked like someone had shot my intestines with a shotgun from the inside.
I was recovering still in October, and still posting here on and off, when someone at the hospital gave my a very nasty bout of covid. My weakened immune system couldn't handle it, and I died of respiratory failure. They resuscitated me. In November I came down with mrsa. In December I went septic/got sepsis and died again. Again I was resuscitated.
Somewhere about this time I got on here again and posted an update, and a public message to Leith (whom I will never forget). One of the strongest survivors I have ever met. He endured things beyond imagining, and somehow retained a sense of self and fought his c-ptsd demons with a ferocity I respected. I will never forget him.
In early January 2025 I was deemed to no longer need intensive care, and was sent to recover at a nursing home that made all sorts of promises about having a program for survivors of trafficking, and people with c-ptsd. They lied.
The place was a shithole where they left me laying in bed for days at a time, not changing my bandages or ostomy bag. I got sick again with another round of sepsis. The nursing home took me out of physical rehab, and put me in long term care. This means they basically stole my disability money, and had no intention of helping me recover and live an independent life again. While I was delirious from sepsis, they had me sign a "do not resuscitate" waiver. They intended to let me die and collect my social security disability and probably collect my pain medications for sale until they had to declare me dead. Then I slipped into a coma, and almost died a third time.
The only reason I am alive is because I had had the foresight to make my eldest sister my power of attorney, and she did everything in her power to get me out of that place and back into the hospital.
I was in a coma from January-March. During that coma, I probably had a stroke. Finally about mid April 2025 I woke up, unable to move, and not even remembering my name or how to use my cell phone. It turned out that the nursing home that neglected me had let my ostomy close over, and my small intestine and large intestine had fused together. Let me define this. My digestive system had no outlet. Nowhere for waste to go. I was being kept alive by hydration and nutrition via an IV called a pick line. I was not allowed to eat or drink anything for months. Nothing. Imagine an unquenchable thirst lasting months. I also had an enormous wound in my skin over my tailbone otherwise known as a pressure ulcer or bedsore. It was bigger and deeper than my fist.
I spent April-June learning how to remember things, use my cell phone, and I spent every waking moment playing mobile games, researching things online, getting my brain working again (I am now as cognitively capable as I ever was).
In mid June I was sent to the Cleveland clinic because they could not stop me getting infections, and they still didn't understand that my intestines had fused. A surgeon at Cleveland clinic discovered the problem, and in June I had another surgery to separate them, and give me an outlet for my digestive tract. This entailed them giving me two ostomies, one on what is left of my large intestine, and one on my small intestine called an illeostomy.
I won't go into the disgusting details, but I will say it wasn't any fun. I then spent half a month recovering, and in July of this year I started learning how to move again. By August I was walking with a walker with aid. I was sent from the physical rehab I was at to another nursing home
In September I went back to Cleveland clinic for another surgery. They closed my illeostomy. My tailbone wound is smaller but will still take months to heal. I am now at the point where I am able to walk unassisted with a walker, and I am trying to find an apartment and get on with my sorry life.
I am still writing my autobiography, and have nearly finished my teen years chapters, which I will post here under survivor stories along with updated and revised chapters on my family and kidnapping when they are ready. I joined the trafficking forum last year, but never got a chance to post there. My level of participation on this forum at this point mostly depends on whether anyone even gives a shit if I'm here, but I thought I owed this very overdue update to those few of you who might.
Kamyk
All my life I had issues with my digestive system. I won't go into specifics no one wants to hear. I sought out medical treatment for decades, and the medical community failed me every time. A year ago, October 8th 2024 the lower part of my large intestine literally exploded. The surgeon who saved my life said it was the worst case of diverticulitis he'd seen in his entire career, and that it looked like someone had shot my intestines with a shotgun from the inside.
I was recovering still in October, and still posting here on and off, when someone at the hospital gave my a very nasty bout of covid. My weakened immune system couldn't handle it, and I died of respiratory failure. They resuscitated me. In November I came down with mrsa. In December I went septic/got sepsis and died again. Again I was resuscitated.
Somewhere about this time I got on here again and posted an update, and a public message to Leith (whom I will never forget). One of the strongest survivors I have ever met. He endured things beyond imagining, and somehow retained a sense of self and fought his c-ptsd demons with a ferocity I respected. I will never forget him.
In early January 2025 I was deemed to no longer need intensive care, and was sent to recover at a nursing home that made all sorts of promises about having a program for survivors of trafficking, and people with c-ptsd. They lied.
The place was a shithole where they left me laying in bed for days at a time, not changing my bandages or ostomy bag. I got sick again with another round of sepsis. The nursing home took me out of physical rehab, and put me in long term care. This means they basically stole my disability money, and had no intention of helping me recover and live an independent life again. While I was delirious from sepsis, they had me sign a "do not resuscitate" waiver. They intended to let me die and collect my social security disability and probably collect my pain medications for sale until they had to declare me dead. Then I slipped into a coma, and almost died a third time.
The only reason I am alive is because I had had the foresight to make my eldest sister my power of attorney, and she did everything in her power to get me out of that place and back into the hospital.
I was in a coma from January-March. During that coma, I probably had a stroke. Finally about mid April 2025 I woke up, unable to move, and not even remembering my name or how to use my cell phone. It turned out that the nursing home that neglected me had let my ostomy close over, and my small intestine and large intestine had fused together. Let me define this. My digestive system had no outlet. Nowhere for waste to go. I was being kept alive by hydration and nutrition via an IV called a pick line. I was not allowed to eat or drink anything for months. Nothing. Imagine an unquenchable thirst lasting months. I also had an enormous wound in my skin over my tailbone otherwise known as a pressure ulcer or bedsore. It was bigger and deeper than my fist.
I spent April-June learning how to remember things, use my cell phone, and I spent every waking moment playing mobile games, researching things online, getting my brain working again (I am now as cognitively capable as I ever was).
In mid June I was sent to the Cleveland clinic because they could not stop me getting infections, and they still didn't understand that my intestines had fused. A surgeon at Cleveland clinic discovered the problem, and in June I had another surgery to separate them, and give me an outlet for my digestive tract. This entailed them giving me two ostomies, one on what is left of my large intestine, and one on my small intestine called an illeostomy.
I won't go into the disgusting details, but I will say it wasn't any fun. I then spent half a month recovering, and in July of this year I started learning how to move again. By August I was walking with a walker with aid. I was sent from the physical rehab I was at to another nursing home
In September I went back to Cleveland clinic for another surgery. They closed my illeostomy. My tailbone wound is smaller but will still take months to heal. I am now at the point where I am able to walk unassisted with a walker, and I am trying to find an apartment and get on with my sorry life.
I am still writing my autobiography, and have nearly finished my teen years chapters, which I will post here under survivor stories along with updated and revised chapters on my family and kidnapping when they are ready. I joined the trafficking forum last year, but never got a chance to post there. My level of participation on this forum at this point mostly depends on whether anyone even gives a shit if I'm here, but I thought I owed this very overdue update to those few of you who might.
Kamyk
and I'm really sorry for that... I'm still here.
Idk about hero, but I'm a very determined fighter.
