But what lingered from then till now I am 40 today is this huge outrageous anger.

Something inside me told me that chemo was going to kill me.

I ve left Guantanamo, but it's still in me all the time.

I had lots of titanium put in me, cadaver bones to try to get my feet moving the right way.

The anger in me against corruption made me to make a big career change last year, becoming a full time practicing lawyer.

I can t describe the panicky, fears and pain I feel, my hair is falling, I m pretty sure I ll be wearing a wig after this nightmare, if I survived.

I know that the abscess that grew around my wound after the operation, the 16 ounces of puss, is the contaminated Gulf of Mexico, and there were oil drenched pelicans inside me and dead floating fish.

There is an Indian greeting, which I'm sure some of you know Namaste, accompanied by a respectful bow, which, roughly translated means, That which is of God in me greets that which of God is in you.

And they get me to that nearby hospital, Cedars Sinai, where that night I receive, because of my internal bleeding, 45 units of blood which means full replacements of all the blood in me before they're able to staunch the flow.

Or the price of freedom? Anyone can say what they want but we have one result Our country is destroyed.

So, he came up with this idea of creating a rebreather, with a CO2 scrubber, which was basically a tube from Home Depot, with a balloon duct taped to it, that he thought we could put inside of me, and somehow be able to circulate the air and rebreathe with this thing in me.