I've received this from Jedakk today, he asks me to make it public here.
I'm sure it will affect others as powerfully as it has me.
And I'm sure we all wish him the very best for his life as he moves on:
I don’t know if anyone missed me the last couple of months, but here’s why I’ve been offline:
Back on February 6, I had an accident in the gym, fell off of a piece of equipment, hit on my face, nearly tore my nose off, hyperextended my neck back and destroyed three discs, seriously injuring my spinal cord. I was totally paralyzed when I came to rest on my back on the floor. All I could do was keep blowing the blood and pieces of teeth out to keep my airway open. I ended up in the ER, had surgery to fix my nose, then two days later they went in and installed a plate on my spine, fusing four discs together. Following that, they put me into a medically-induced coma for two weeks.
They weren’t sure if I’d live. Then I got pneumonia, and they thought I’d probably die. A lot of older folks like me don’t survive that.
While I was in the coma, for some time I felt like a disembodied spirit, looking for the rest of myself so that I could die. And that was ok. I didn’t have any fear of dying. I thought that maybe I’d lived long enough, done so many things that God was ready for me to come home.
It might sound cliché, but I was peaceful, calm, in a space where I was surrounded by light. I sensed that there were others there around me, all drifting upward, no bodies, just brighter lights within the light around us. They were passing through a barrier that I somehow knew marked the boundary between life and death. But when I got there, I couldn’t cross. And I knew it must not be my time yet; I had more to do.
When I came out of the coma and found myself in a physical body, my feeling of disembodiment was so strong that I wasn’t sure at first that it was the right body. The burn scar on the back of my right hand that I’ve had since I was a toddler convinced me that yes, this actually was my own body! That was February 23, and they transferred me to rehabilitation at that point.
I was basically helpless, couldn’t even speak. I was in and out of reality for a few days after that until the fog lifted. I slowly recovered strength, but I had lost thirty pounds. The plan was to release me on March 31 – all the time that insurance would pay for. They started advising us on how to add ramps and wider doors to our house to accommodate the wheelchair I was going to be in when I left. I couldn’t even sit up without something supporting my back.
But as the days passed, I gained back some of my strength. I began to speak, sit up more and more, then was able to stand enough to get from the bed to the wheelchair. Hundreds of people were praying for me, friends came to see me, and I felt truly humbled. It was certainly much more than I ever deserved.
For years, I had known that the time would come when I’d have to walk away from crux. Otherwise, if anyone discovered this side of me after I’m gone, then everything I’ve done, all of the good things I’ve accomplished, would become meaningless. So I became convinced that now was the time.
I made a promise to God that when I got out, whatever shape I was in, I’d walk away from my crux obsession.
My progress was in quantum leaps per day. I regained coordination, was able to stand for longer periods of time, began to shamble around using a walker. Then about March 13, I was able to walk about fifty feet on my own, painfully, but unaided. Two days later I was able to walk for thirty minutes with a walking stick without sitting down. I kept improving and nine days later, on March 22, I walked over 1500 feet in six minutes and could climb flights of stairs. I was discharged on March 24, a week earlier than planned. They said my recovery was spectacular, other patients looked up to me, and they wanted me to come back from time to time and try to encourage others in the program.
A week later, I was told I didn’t need to wear my neck brace any longer. I got out of that a month early. Then I was evaluated for outpatient therapy and told that I didn’t need any more physical or occupational therapy – I already exceeded their goals.
You could make a case that I was in really good shape to begin with, but I feel like a walking miracle.
Whether I made a promise to God, or you consider it a promise to myself, I am convinced that the time has arrived for me to put aside this obsession that has often consumed me for more than fifty years.
There will be no more crux art or stories from me.
I have already gone into my computer and deleted all of the Poser files, 3D models and renders for Sabina, Lucilla, The Serpent’s Eye, Altered States, all of it, along with all of the story files and everything I have collected over the past twenty plus years that I have been online. There’s no going back now. Whatever I’ve posted here will remain here, but there will be no new renders or stories from me.
Obviously, I didn’t have to post this. People disappear from these forums from time to time, and we often never know why; they are simply no longer here. I didn’t want to disappear like that. And I did want to thank everyone here who has supported me and who has enjoyed my work.
There are a lot of good and knowledgeable people here whom I am going to miss. If any of you want to maintain contact with me, please send a PM to one of the Staff members asking for my e-mail address, before the end of May. After that, I’ll notify the people who responded of my new address and close the Jedakk account permanently.
Again, thanks to you all.
I'm sure it will affect others as powerfully as it has me.
And I'm sure we all wish him the very best for his life as he moves on:
I don’t know if anyone missed me the last couple of months, but here’s why I’ve been offline:
Back on February 6, I had an accident in the gym, fell off of a piece of equipment, hit on my face, nearly tore my nose off, hyperextended my neck back and destroyed three discs, seriously injuring my spinal cord. I was totally paralyzed when I came to rest on my back on the floor. All I could do was keep blowing the blood and pieces of teeth out to keep my airway open. I ended up in the ER, had surgery to fix my nose, then two days later they went in and installed a plate on my spine, fusing four discs together. Following that, they put me into a medically-induced coma for two weeks.
They weren’t sure if I’d live. Then I got pneumonia, and they thought I’d probably die. A lot of older folks like me don’t survive that.
While I was in the coma, for some time I felt like a disembodied spirit, looking for the rest of myself so that I could die. And that was ok. I didn’t have any fear of dying. I thought that maybe I’d lived long enough, done so many things that God was ready for me to come home.
It might sound cliché, but I was peaceful, calm, in a space where I was surrounded by light. I sensed that there were others there around me, all drifting upward, no bodies, just brighter lights within the light around us. They were passing through a barrier that I somehow knew marked the boundary between life and death. But when I got there, I couldn’t cross. And I knew it must not be my time yet; I had more to do.
When I came out of the coma and found myself in a physical body, my feeling of disembodiment was so strong that I wasn’t sure at first that it was the right body. The burn scar on the back of my right hand that I’ve had since I was a toddler convinced me that yes, this actually was my own body! That was February 23, and they transferred me to rehabilitation at that point.
I was basically helpless, couldn’t even speak. I was in and out of reality for a few days after that until the fog lifted. I slowly recovered strength, but I had lost thirty pounds. The plan was to release me on March 31 – all the time that insurance would pay for. They started advising us on how to add ramps and wider doors to our house to accommodate the wheelchair I was going to be in when I left. I couldn’t even sit up without something supporting my back.
But as the days passed, I gained back some of my strength. I began to speak, sit up more and more, then was able to stand enough to get from the bed to the wheelchair. Hundreds of people were praying for me, friends came to see me, and I felt truly humbled. It was certainly much more than I ever deserved.
For years, I had known that the time would come when I’d have to walk away from crux. Otherwise, if anyone discovered this side of me after I’m gone, then everything I’ve done, all of the good things I’ve accomplished, would become meaningless. So I became convinced that now was the time.
I made a promise to God that when I got out, whatever shape I was in, I’d walk away from my crux obsession.
My progress was in quantum leaps per day. I regained coordination, was able to stand for longer periods of time, began to shamble around using a walker. Then about March 13, I was able to walk about fifty feet on my own, painfully, but unaided. Two days later I was able to walk for thirty minutes with a walking stick without sitting down. I kept improving and nine days later, on March 22, I walked over 1500 feet in six minutes and could climb flights of stairs. I was discharged on March 24, a week earlier than planned. They said my recovery was spectacular, other patients looked up to me, and they wanted me to come back from time to time and try to encourage others in the program.
A week later, I was told I didn’t need to wear my neck brace any longer. I got out of that a month early. Then I was evaluated for outpatient therapy and told that I didn’t need any more physical or occupational therapy – I already exceeded their goals.
You could make a case that I was in really good shape to begin with, but I feel like a walking miracle.
Whether I made a promise to God, or you consider it a promise to myself, I am convinced that the time has arrived for me to put aside this obsession that has often consumed me for more than fifty years.
There will be no more crux art or stories from me.
I have already gone into my computer and deleted all of the Poser files, 3D models and renders for Sabina, Lucilla, The Serpent’s Eye, Altered States, all of it, along with all of the story files and everything I have collected over the past twenty plus years that I have been online. There’s no going back now. Whatever I’ve posted here will remain here, but there will be no new renders or stories from me.
Obviously, I didn’t have to post this. People disappear from these forums from time to time, and we often never know why; they are simply no longer here. I didn’t want to disappear like that. And I did want to thank everyone here who has supported me and who has enjoyed my work.
There are a lot of good and knowledgeable people here whom I am going to miss. If any of you want to maintain contact with me, please send a PM to one of the Staff members asking for my e-mail address, before the end of May. After that, I’ll notify the people who responded of my new address and close the Jedakk account permanently.
Again, thanks to you all.