In 1995, I got shot through the hand in an on the job accident. (Working high risk security). My left hand was paralyzed for many months. I thought that i was going to be disabled, and I could no longer pursue my dream of working in law enforcement. I was taking pain killers, and one day after an extremely bad physical therapy session, I took a couple too many, not enough to kill me, but enough to allow my anger and depression to get the best of me. I went to my gun locker and pulled out my 9 mm, loaded it and then sat in the middle of my girlfriends apartment and gathered the courage to pull the trigger. That is when my dog, Chance came over and looked into my eyes, (the first time he has ever been able to look a human in the face since I rescued him) and placed his paw on my hand with the gun. I know all he wanted was to be petted, but at that time it, to me, it meant that I was actually wanted here on this earth.
I locked the gun away and then drove to my synagogue. I had a long talk with my rabbi, and that is when I re affirmed my union with God and Jesus. By the time christmas came around, my hand was working about 50%. Now, every day I thank God for keeping here, and my hand is at 95%. Good enough to make a living as a computer tech/network admin. I will never have the strength to arrest some one, but then again, keyboards don't fight back.
