A Hard Knock Life: A Young Man’S Journey

By Richard Thompson

"A Hard Knock Life is a memoir about the authors youngest son and the adventurous 20 years leading to a near-fatal single-car accident in Los Angeles. It began as a list of notes recorded while his son was comatose from a Traumatic Brain Injury.
As more events, sad or happy, were remembered, they were added until it became much more than a list. It is hoped that other families might benefit from Robs experience, whether they have a head-injured member or have the unfortunate thing happen."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 3, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453555798

Book preview

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the memory of

my late wife Eunice Lee (Nixon), who

passed away on March 2, 2005, and to

our sons Richard, Jr. and Robert, the

prides of our 46-year marriage.

The book was written primarily as a

lasting record for Robert, so that he may

reflect on things he missed or has

forgotten.

Charles Dickens said it best in 1859, in

the first sentence of ‘A Tale of Two Cities’

"It was the best of times, it was the

worst of times, it was the age of

wisdom, it was the age of

foolishness, it was the epoch of

belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,

it was the season of Light,

it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring

of hope, it was the winter of despair,

we had everything before us,

we had nothing before us . . ."

Richard A. Thompson, Sr

Carrollton, Texas

Contents

DEDICATION

FOREWORD

CHAPTER I

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER II

THE EARLY YEARS

CHAPTER III

A CHANGE OF SCENERY

CHAPTER IV

FAMILIAR SURROUNDINGS

CHAPTER V

SWEET HOME ALABAMA

CHAPTER VI

THE MIDNIGHT PHONE CALL

CHAPTER VII

THE LONG VIGIL BEGINS

CHAPTER VIII

REHABILITATION

CHAPTER IX

SMALL CLAIMS COURT

CHAPTER X

REGRESSION HURTS

CHAPTER XI

SURE WE COULD DO IT

CHAPTER XII

MIRACLE AT MEDICAL CITY

CHAPTER XIII

LONG ROAD TO RECOVERY

CHAPTER XIV

TRAGEDY

CHAPTER XV

EPILOGUE

FOREWORD

Even before meeting Robbie Thompson, I knew that God had some special thing going on . . .

In The Beginning

It was the summer of 1991 when I first heard about Rob, but I had no idea who he was. It was a typical Sunday morning at church, and just before the worship service I was walking past two gentlemen, one of whom was a visitor. The visitor was talking to the member about a young boy who was injured. That’s about all I heard above the din in the gathering area, and as I took my seat in the church I had a funny sensation that God had just placed this young boy onto my plate. This wasn’t the first time that such a thing had happened to me, and it always leaves me wondering if I’ve imagined it. But past experience had taught me that God would fill in the details as I availed myself of His purpose. The first order of business was to find out who this young boy was, so I resolved to have a chat with the visitor after the church service. That was the plan anyway.

I was the youth leader at a small Madison church, and typically one or more of the teens would often come zooming across my path immediately after the church service with a flood of questions about our next youth event.

This day was no exception, and the visitor managed to escape before I had a chance to talk to him. The following week I noticed that the visitor was again in attendance, and so I made the same plan, with the same result. Several weeks passed where I didn’t see the visitor again. I had learned the visitor’s name, but it seemed that my chance of making a positive identification of the young boy was waning.

As the weeks came and went, and seasons came and went, and even the year changed to another, I inexplicably and regularly felt in my heart that God had a plan for the injured person and me. And for some reason I also had the impression that there was no rush. This is not a typical posture to adopt when trying to accomplish something for Christ, and I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with that aspect. Then, one Friday night in April 1992, everything changed.

On Friday nights a small group of folks from our church would typically meet for dinner and Bible Study at a family’s home, about a 30-minute drive from my own home. Driving home afterward, at nearly 10 PM, I felt strangely like I got my bell rung . . . it was suddenly time to interact with the young boy who was injured. I was a little perplexed by this, and a bunch of questions popped up . . . Does he live near? . . . How young is ‘young’? . . .

Is he still alive? And of course the big question, . . . Who is he, and how do I get in touch with him?