Miracle of Life and the Importance of a Will

Marty Graham is a graduate of St. Pat's Class of '76. He has two brothers who are also alums, Kevin '78 and Brian '79. While at St. Pat's Marty was on the track team. He went on to receive his undergraduate degree at Northeastern Illinois University and then his "Master's" at Northwestern University. For over 25 years Marty has been an owner of Sabella & Graham, P.C., a certified public accounting and consultant firm. Marty and his wife, Patty, have two children.

In the past, Marty has courageously dealt with enormous health problems and is grateful to be alive. He offered to share his story for the benefit of other Shamrocks:

At 46 years of age I was a healthy 280 pounds. I had not slept overnight in a hospital since having my tonsils out at the age of 4. I could run through a brick wall. On Sunday December 12, 2004, I gave a speech at the Park Ridge Country Club for a charity's Christmas party of which I was the president. I felt like a million bucks! I always felt like a million bucks!!

The next day Monday, December 13, 2004, I noticed blood in my stool for the first time ever in my life. I was not alarmed, and after four days it went away. I thought nothing of it. Three days later it came back and never went away. It got worse and worse until Monday, January 3, 2005. I went to an immediate care center thinking they would give me some pills and send me home. I was in the hospital for the next few days until they released me on January 7th in the same shape that I entered. I think that they thought that it (whatever IT was) would just get better on its own.

I returned to work for about a week and then went back in the same hospital feeling terrible on Monday, January 17th. I stayed there until the 28th, and again they released me with no change in my condition except that now, during the last few days, I was going into convulsions about twice a day. These were scary, uncontrollable, violent convulsions, and I begged the good Lord to take me right there and then while I was having them because they were absolutely unbearable. I didn't want to live anymore. When I looked at the clock when the convulsions finally stopped, it would seem as if hours had passed, but only 20-30 minutes had gone by. That's how bad they were.

One time an attack started at 9:40 p.m. When it was over, I was drenched in sweat and my bed was full of blood, and I thought that it was about 5:00 a.m., but it was only 10:05 p.m. My large intestine had perforated and no one realized it. They released me again. I think they had just given up trying to figure it out, and they didn't want me to die in their hospital.

I was home on the 29th and 30th. When I woke up at dawn on Monday the 31st, I couldn't see. Everything was a blinding white light. If I laid flat on my back, I could see, but if I stood up or sat up, it was like someone was shining a giant spotlight right into my eyes. I didn't have enough blood left in my body to pump up to my head. I knew I was dying. The feeling was unmistakable. It felt like I was a toy that was running out of batteries. I told my wife "I feel like death."

She wanted me to go back to the same hospital for the third time. I said "No, they'll kill me, they can't figure this out. I want to go to Loyola." Had I gone back to that same hospital that day, I would have been in a box at Belmont Funeral Home shortly thereafter.

Loyola saved my life. After several tests, they told me that I had anywhere between 5 minutes and 48 hours to live and that it was probably closer to 5 minutes. They told me that I needed to be cut open immediately because my abdominal cavity was full of blood and stool and that it was poisoning me. They asked why I hadn't been to see a doctor yet. I told them that I had been in the hospital for about a month on and off. They couldn't believe it. They told me that they weren't making any guarantees and that I might not live through the night. I was surprisingly at peace with that. They left me alone for about 10 minutes, and I saw death as a friend and not an enemy, like Cardinal Bernardin once said. I had a better, fuller life in 46 years than most people ever do. It had been fun to be me. I was almost looking forward to heaven. I would miss my family and friends, but maybe I could help them from up there, I thought. They took me upstairs in an elevator at about midnight. I remember that distinctly. I woke up about 6:00 a.m., and I looked around and I said out loud "Well, this sure ain't heaven." I looked down and I was gutted like a catfish. My belly button was vertical. I had six IV's in me including one in my neck. I had a horrid tube in one nostril and down my throat. I felt like I had been in three plane crashes and a car wreck. But, I was alive.

I was diagnosed with a disease called fulminant colitis. Only 4 in 100,000 people get it, and only 1 of those 4 has to have his colon completely removed like I did. Almost no one gets it after the age of 40. I lost 105 pounds in about six weeks. I suffered from muscle atrophy from being in the hospital so long. I didn't have enough strength to press the button on a shaving cream can.

Lessons learned - God is good, my family is wonderful, my business partner and my co-workers were tremendous, my clients were fantastic, Loyola is a great hospital, all doctors are not the same, life is extremely fragile and short, the human body is merely a perishable vehicle for the eternal soul, appreciate the little things, and most of all enjoy every minute. We are all very blessed and lucky.

Today, I am still going. However, as a member of St. Pat's Estate and Tax Advisory Council, the advice and message I'd like to share is that young people die, and they die unexpectedly. For goodness sake, spend the time and money necessary to make absolutely sure that your affairs are in order. Most importantly, make sure that your will is up to date, that your family and loved ones are taken care of, and if possible, please remember to mention Saint Patrick High School as part of your legacy.