Here is an update on Mike. This shows what a fighter he is.
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http://www.cdapress.com/articles/2005/12/26/news/news01.txt
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The Miracle Comeback
Posted: Sunday, Dec 25, 2005 - 10:41:19 pm PST
By MARC STEWART
Staff writer
JASON HUNT/Press
Michael Kralicek, former Coeur d'Alene police officer, has endured a year of recovery from being shot on Dec. 28, 2004. Some doctors were suggesting that Kralicek might never walk again, but he recently took more than a dozen steps on his own.
Michael Kralicek makes strides in shooting recovery
POST FALLS -- Mike Kralicek is living proof that some miracles happen one step at a time.
Kralicek walked around his kitchen Thursday with his wife, Carrie, right behind him. His gait was slow and uneven, but he made more than a dozen steps before sitting back down in his wheelchair.
"I had a doctor tell me not to get too attached to the idea of walking again," Kralicek said. "I wanted to prove them all wrong. I can't wait to walk into his office."
The former Coeur d'Alene police officer hasn't fully recovered from being shot in the face shortly after midnight on Dec. 28, 2004, but he's on his way.
"We've won the war," Kralicek said. "Now, it's time to win the last battle."
There's no reason to doubt Kralicek, who expects to jettison his wheelchair in the upcoming year because he's gone further than anybody expected in 12 months.
"He's a miracle," said Coeur d'Alene Police Chief Wendy Carpenter. "He had no pulse at the scene, and the fact that's he almost recovered is amazing. I wish we could fast forward a year because I think he'll be walking all the time. I expect him to be living a quasi-normal life."
For a man who nearly bled to death from a severed carotid artery, suffered a stroke and endured seven surgeries to repair the damage from a .357 Magnum round, Mike looks phenomenal. His coloring is shockingly improved from six months ago, going from pasty to rosy. His mouth no longer droops to the side, the telltale sign of a stroke. He's regained most of the weight he lost, nearly 50 pounds.
"He's got a tummy," Carrie said, poking her slim husband in the stomach.
Mike plans to take pre-law classes at North Idaho College and one day become an advocate for law enforcement officers and help people with worker's compensation claims.
"I'd like to be a research attorney," Mike said. "I am definitely not going to the dark side."
Recovery
The road of recovery has been torturous for Mike and Carrie and their two daughters, Alexis and Amanda.
They've endured physical and emotional pain.
They've foregone sleep, and they've cried together.
They battled the state's insurance fund after it denied Mike benefits and his much-needed therapy programs. Eventually, the quasi-state agency relented, and it provided the Kraliceks the support they needed.
Mike spent countless hours in physical therapy getting stronger, retraining his muscles and improving his motor skills.
"We're trying to get the right hand back now," he said. "When I was lying in bed after it happened, I was thinking, 'What I do I want back, my legs or my hands?'"
He credits his wife with his rapid recovery. When Mike didn't feel like going to therapy, Carrie made him.
"There was a lot of teamwork," he said. "She's strong for me. We're both stubborn, and we both have a lot of self-motivation."
As the months went by, his left leg came back. Then his right leg. Then his left hand.
Mike and Carrie dealt with the stress of their situation with their own unique sense of humor. It's wickedly funny, but dark and disturbed.
"If you don't laugh, you'll end up in the psych ward," she said.
Added Mike: "Humor is a much more useful emotion than depression."
Here's the cleanest example that can be used in a family newspaper: During the Fourth of July parade last summer, Mike recognized people in the crowd -- people he had arrested. They were waving and cheering him.
"I remembering thinking, 'I chased him, and I busted him and his brother. Now, they're waving at us. We must be doing something right.'"
His 12-year-old daughter, Alexis, said her dad worked hard every day.
"It has been hard, but he's gotten better," Alexis said. "He can scratch his own itches. He can shave by himself. He can wash his face, he can turn the light switch on, and he can grab his own drink."
The state insurance fund bought the Kraliceks a van for transporting him, something not mandated by law.
Carrie said that van will be history in the coming months.
"We're getting rid of that van," Carrie said. "Mike doesn't need it anymore. We're giving it back to the state insurance fund. He can get into our car now."
The family is still adjusting to its new life. Carrie works nights at Kootenai Medical Center as a nurse.
"It will be never be the same," Carrie said. "It's like I was shattered into a million pieces. You can pick up the pieces in time, but there are pieces missing."
There are still more bumps in the road ahead, but the Kraliceks promise to find a way to navigate them.
"We're so dependent on others for survival," she said. "If a nurse doesn't show up to take care of him, I am screwed. I don't sleep."
Added Mike: "Life is a roller coaster. What fun is the ride without the dips?"
Cold night
Mike doesn't remember getting shot. He remembers it was so cold that the windshield on his police cruiser froze over, forcing him to drive down the road with his head out the window.
"I remember a few hours from that night, but I don't remember going to that house," he said.
He was there to assist during the arrest of Michael Madonna, who was being charged with misdemeanor DUI.
Madonna slipped out of his handcuffs and ran inside his Hayden home, with Kralicek in hot pursuit. Madonna grabbed a gun, whirled around and shot Kralicek.
Two sheriff deputies opened fire on Madonna, killing him instantly. Then they rushed to their fallen comrade.
Mike had no pulse and blood was spraying out of his carotid artery, which had been severed. The deputies put pressure on the artery and began CPR.
Today, the Kraliceks bear no ill will toward Madonna.
"I am happy for him," Mike said. "He's better off dead because he was shot in the same place I was. I wouldn't wish what I went through on anybody.
"He wasn't trying to kill me, he was trying to get away. I just happened to get in the way."
Also, Mike isn't mad at the Kootenai County sheriff's deputies who put Madonna in handcuffs. He defends their actions and said it's not fair to judge them.
Mike has watched the police video from the sheriff cruiser of that night, trying to fill in the memory gaps.
"Mike and one of the deputies came over and had a beer," Carrie said. "I couldn't watch it. I had to go someplace else, but Mike wanted to see it."
Merry Christmas
Mike is wearing his wedding ring again. Carrie took it off him after the shooting. He hadn't worn it in months.
"I knew his whole body would swell up with the amount of fluids they were pumping into him," Carrie said. "He put it back on a couple of weeks ago."
It's another sign life is returning to normal.
The Kralicek clan plans to celebrate the anniversary of the shooting by going out to dinner with law enforcement officers, firefighters and other close friends.
Mike doesn't have any ill feelings about Dec. 28.
"It's not a bad day," Mike said. "It would have been a bad day if I had died. It's a celebration of life."
The Kraliceks also plan to spend Christmas together. The event will be low-key and without much fanfare.
Unlike many men, Mike hadn't procrastinated on his Christmas shopping. Mike's friends bought Carrie's Christmas gift for him.
"It's under the tree," he said smiling. "She doesn't even know it's there."
Wrong, Mike. She knows.
"I got my Christmas present," Carrie said. "Mike is walking."
Link:
http://www.cdapress.com/articles/2005/12/26/news/news01.txt
Artical:
Email this story Printer friendly version
The Miracle Comeback
Posted: Sunday, Dec 25, 2005 - 10:41:19 pm PST
By MARC STEWART
Staff writer
JASON HUNT/Press
Michael Kralicek, former Coeur d'Alene police officer, has endured a year of recovery from being shot on Dec. 28, 2004. Some doctors were suggesting that Kralicek might never walk again, but he recently took more than a dozen steps on his own.
Michael Kralicek makes strides in shooting recovery
POST FALLS -- Mike Kralicek is living proof that some miracles happen one step at a time.
Kralicek walked around his kitchen Thursday with his wife, Carrie, right behind him. His gait was slow and uneven, but he made more than a dozen steps before sitting back down in his wheelchair.
"I had a doctor tell me not to get too attached to the idea of walking again," Kralicek said. "I wanted to prove them all wrong. I can't wait to walk into his office."
The former Coeur d'Alene police officer hasn't fully recovered from being shot in the face shortly after midnight on Dec. 28, 2004, but he's on his way.
"We've won the war," Kralicek said. "Now, it's time to win the last battle."
There's no reason to doubt Kralicek, who expects to jettison his wheelchair in the upcoming year because he's gone further than anybody expected in 12 months.
"He's a miracle," said Coeur d'Alene Police Chief Wendy Carpenter. "He had no pulse at the scene, and the fact that's he almost recovered is amazing. I wish we could fast forward a year because I think he'll be walking all the time. I expect him to be living a quasi-normal life."
For a man who nearly bled to death from a severed carotid artery, suffered a stroke and endured seven surgeries to repair the damage from a .357 Magnum round, Mike looks phenomenal. His coloring is shockingly improved from six months ago, going from pasty to rosy. His mouth no longer droops to the side, the telltale sign of a stroke. He's regained most of the weight he lost, nearly 50 pounds.
"He's got a tummy," Carrie said, poking her slim husband in the stomach.
Mike plans to take pre-law classes at North Idaho College and one day become an advocate for law enforcement officers and help people with worker's compensation claims.
"I'd like to be a research attorney," Mike said. "I am definitely not going to the dark side."
Recovery
The road of recovery has been torturous for Mike and Carrie and their two daughters, Alexis and Amanda.
They've endured physical and emotional pain.
They've foregone sleep, and they've cried together.
They battled the state's insurance fund after it denied Mike benefits and his much-needed therapy programs. Eventually, the quasi-state agency relented, and it provided the Kraliceks the support they needed.
Mike spent countless hours in physical therapy getting stronger, retraining his muscles and improving his motor skills.
"We're trying to get the right hand back now," he said. "When I was lying in bed after it happened, I was thinking, 'What I do I want back, my legs or my hands?'"
He credits his wife with his rapid recovery. When Mike didn't feel like going to therapy, Carrie made him.
"There was a lot of teamwork," he said. "She's strong for me. We're both stubborn, and we both have a lot of self-motivation."
As the months went by, his left leg came back. Then his right leg. Then his left hand.
Mike and Carrie dealt with the stress of their situation with their own unique sense of humor. It's wickedly funny, but dark and disturbed.
"If you don't laugh, you'll end up in the psych ward," she said.
Added Mike: "Humor is a much more useful emotion than depression."
Here's the cleanest example that can be used in a family newspaper: During the Fourth of July parade last summer, Mike recognized people in the crowd -- people he had arrested. They were waving and cheering him.
"I remembering thinking, 'I chased him, and I busted him and his brother. Now, they're waving at us. We must be doing something right.'"
His 12-year-old daughter, Alexis, said her dad worked hard every day.
"It has been hard, but he's gotten better," Alexis said. "He can scratch his own itches. He can shave by himself. He can wash his face, he can turn the light switch on, and he can grab his own drink."
The state insurance fund bought the Kraliceks a van for transporting him, something not mandated by law.
Carrie said that van will be history in the coming months.
"We're getting rid of that van," Carrie said. "Mike doesn't need it anymore. We're giving it back to the state insurance fund. He can get into our car now."
The family is still adjusting to its new life. Carrie works nights at Kootenai Medical Center as a nurse.
"It will be never be the same," Carrie said. "It's like I was shattered into a million pieces. You can pick up the pieces in time, but there are pieces missing."
There are still more bumps in the road ahead, but the Kraliceks promise to find a way to navigate them.
"We're so dependent on others for survival," she said. "If a nurse doesn't show up to take care of him, I am screwed. I don't sleep."
Added Mike: "Life is a roller coaster. What fun is the ride without the dips?"
Cold night
Mike doesn't remember getting shot. He remembers it was so cold that the windshield on his police cruiser froze over, forcing him to drive down the road with his head out the window.
"I remember a few hours from that night, but I don't remember going to that house," he said.
He was there to assist during the arrest of Michael Madonna, who was being charged with misdemeanor DUI.
Madonna slipped out of his handcuffs and ran inside his Hayden home, with Kralicek in hot pursuit. Madonna grabbed a gun, whirled around and shot Kralicek.
Two sheriff deputies opened fire on Madonna, killing him instantly. Then they rushed to their fallen comrade.
Mike had no pulse and blood was spraying out of his carotid artery, which had been severed. The deputies put pressure on the artery and began CPR.
Today, the Kraliceks bear no ill will toward Madonna.
"I am happy for him," Mike said. "He's better off dead because he was shot in the same place I was. I wouldn't wish what I went through on anybody.
"He wasn't trying to kill me, he was trying to get away. I just happened to get in the way."
Also, Mike isn't mad at the Kootenai County sheriff's deputies who put Madonna in handcuffs. He defends their actions and said it's not fair to judge them.
Mike has watched the police video from the sheriff cruiser of that night, trying to fill in the memory gaps.
"Mike and one of the deputies came over and had a beer," Carrie said. "I couldn't watch it. I had to go someplace else, but Mike wanted to see it."
Merry Christmas
Mike is wearing his wedding ring again. Carrie took it off him after the shooting. He hadn't worn it in months.
"I knew his whole body would swell up with the amount of fluids they were pumping into him," Carrie said. "He put it back on a couple of weeks ago."
It's another sign life is returning to normal.
The Kralicek clan plans to celebrate the anniversary of the shooting by going out to dinner with law enforcement officers, firefighters and other close friends.
Mike doesn't have any ill feelings about Dec. 28.
"It's not a bad day," Mike said. "It would have been a bad day if I had died. It's a celebration of life."
The Kraliceks also plan to spend Christmas together. The event will be low-key and without much fanfare.
Unlike many men, Mike hadn't procrastinated on his Christmas shopping. Mike's friends bought Carrie's Christmas gift for him.
"It's under the tree," he said smiling. "She doesn't even know it's there."
Wrong, Mike. She knows.
"I got my Christmas present," Carrie said. "Mike is walking."
.
