Simply Amazing: Special Author’s Edition

By K.C. Armstrong and David Arquette

Simply Amazing Special Authors Edition, first in author K. C. Armstrong's Simply Amazing series, is a collection of uplifting stories of overcoming life's greatest challenges.

K. C. Armstrong begins the book with the heart-wrenching story of his own tormented years after leaving the Howard Stern Show and his transformation to a life of hope and service to others. With this explanation of his own personal redemption, he then shares twelve favorite interviews from his WMAP radio station of people who have also overcome tremendous challenges to find their true life callings. (www.wmapradio.com)

Armstrong’s first interview is with a 92 year old Holocaust survivor who recounts his days in Auschwitz with details of daily struggles to stay alive, including running as a test of strength for Dr. Mengele and watching the smoke arise from the deadly chimneys. We hear from the mother of a special-needs child who must navigate a complicated system to help her son. A young man from the ghetto watches a man shot in the street and die on a neighbor's porch. A stage four breast cancer survivor who had been given a death sentence by her doctors travels to another country for alternative treatment. All of the people interviewed in this book tell amazing stories of courage, dignity and perseverance, and all inspire us with the resiliency and forgiveness of the human spirit.

Life, for all of us, brings hardships. What separates us is how we use them to collapse- or to grow.

The final message is upbeat and inspiring. We cheer for each of these everyday heroes and turn the last page with a renewed outlook of gratitude, love and self-assurance.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796033489

K.C. Armstrong

K. C. Armstrong, formerly of the Howard Stern Show, is currently the owner and host of WMAP Radio, an internet-based and nationally syndicated station. His radio shows reach over 100 countries worldwide and are rebroadcast in NY and Fl, with new FM stations being added regularly. Mr. Armstrong has created an inspirational series aptly titled Simply Amazing to share the positivity he learned after surviving his own challenges to rediscover his true self. The premier book, Simply Amazing, Special Author's Edition, was an immediate best seller, is being used in schools in the US, and has been called “A major player in the self-help genre” by the US Review of Books. Associations: WMAP Radio; World's Most Amazing People; Port Jefferson High School; Western Kentucky University; Howard Stern.   Virginia Bartol grew up in New London, CT and graduated from Ithaca College in New York and then SUNY Stony Brook. She has taught at Mount Sinai High School in Mount Sinai, NY and the Kibo School in Moshi, Tanzania Association: WMAP Radio; Ithaca College, SUNY Stonybrook   INTERVIEWEES: Werner Reich Tom Butts Jenny Maher Doug Herald Virginia Armstrong's Jeanne Beard Lito Mason Laurene Hope Dr. Elizabeth Rodger Daniella Cippitelli Shannon Knight Peter Gantner

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Copyright © 2019 by K.C. Armstrong.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 08/20/2019

CONTENTS

Foreword

Prologue

Introduction

Chapter 1 Werner Reich

Chapter 2 Tom Butts

Chapter 3 Jenny Maher

Chapter 4 Doug Herald

Chapter 5 Virginia Armstrong

Chapter 6 Jeanne Beard

Chapter 7 Lito Mason

Chapter 8 Laurene Hope

Chapter 9 Dr. Elizabeth Rodger

Chapter 10 Daniella Cippitelli

Chapter 11 Shannon Knight

Chapter 12 Peter Gantner

Note From The Author

Acknowledgments

Book Club Discussion Questions

Epilogue

Founder of WMAP Radio and Interviewer

K. C. Armstrong

Copy Editor

Virginia Armstrong

Creative Director

Jessica Sorin Olmeda

Book Cover Photography

Autumn Maglia

Interviewees

Peter Gantner

Werner Reich

Tom Butts

Jenny Maher

Doug Herald

Virginia Armstrong

Jeanne Beard

Lito Mason

Laurene Hope

Dr. Elizabeth Rodger

Daniella Cippitelli

Shannon Knight

To my Mother

Virginia Armstrong

She has been trying to make me believe I’m amazing

my whole life even when I refused to see it.

I thank God each day for how lucky I am to have such an

amazing, thoughtful best friend and example who showed me how

the sacrifices you make for other people are what really matters.

There is no way to put my gratitude into words, but

I thought I would take this time to try.

You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever

known. Thank you for everything.

Adversity is an uncomfortable teaching tool

if you are open to learning.

Otherwise, it’s just meaningless suffering.

FOREWORD

I met K. C. Armstrong through the universe of Howard Stern. We are both renegades, thrill seekers, and like to live life to the fullest. Having such a lust for life often leads to a life of bizarre adventures and an endless search to find the meaning of why we are here on this spinning rock we call Earth.

One thing you can never take away from either of us is our heart. That’s what bonded us together and why we are friends to this day. I’ve called him when I’ve been down, as he has done the same, to talk each other of the edge. I’m so glad to see him in such a great place, and I’ll always be here for him because of his heart.

He has found others with similar hearts and has interviewed them for this book. I hope you enjoy it!

David Arquette

PROLOGUE

"Did you hear K. C. Armstrong is rereleasing his book Simply Amazing?"

Yeah! It was originally published in November, but I couldn’t find the book anywhere! It was supposed to be in Barnes & Noble and in bookstores everywhere! I heard he was finally going to explain everything!

What the …

To be as brief as possible, here is the reason for the new edition. I pitched the idea of this upbeat project that I so passionately believed in to everyone that I thought had a story to tell, and that means pitching everyone.

Because everyone has a story.

I ended up initially with ten lead authors, and the person I believed had the necessary experience and shared vision was on board to publish it. The plan was to do three to four months of interviews with each author and then have their words transcribed and then edited down in tight chapters that tell a story chronologically, with the final goal to inspire the reading audience, spreading good news for a change and sharing ways regular people use their life challenges to help others. It’s important to know that most of the time, I was working from the hospital while I fulfilled this goal.

This book was going to be what I left behind; it was to be my last message to anyone who would listen because I had spent essentially every holiday and birthday in the hospital because of my poor choices, mistakes, and the lessons I hadn’t learned until too late in life. I expected to be dead around the time the book launched or soon afterward. That’s not me being a hypochondriac or having some morbid, far-fetched idea. This prognosis was given to me directly by doctors, and it determined how I felt and lived, and I was trying to accept it.

I got all the interviews back in written interview format, and the manuscript turned out to be close to two thousand pages. The diamonds were there in the rough—the courageous stories of these inspiring people—but in speech, we all repeat ourselves (especially over the course of multiple interviews when we feel we have to review), use those ticks of expression (you know, like, I mean, etc.), and tell our stories out of order and in varying tenses. The two thousand pages were packed with redundancy, inaudible blank spaces, and more grammar and spelling mistakes than you might expect from me … in the second grade.

It was then determined by the person I trusted (and paid) to help me with this project that the interviews should be put out, in their entirety, in two books in raw (unedited) form. Two books, five interviews each, approximately two hundred pages per interview. Not knowing much about books, even I knew that would be lazy, laughable, and a complete embarrassment for us all. I took a stand and would not allow my name to be put on something so ridiculous. That is when I teamed up with my best friend Virginia to learn everything I needed to publish a tightly edited, readible book to do justice to the amazing people who had entrusted their stories to us.

And here is that book.

Through all this and more I learned the most expensive yet important lesson in my life; no matter what comes your way, just do the right thing.

INTRODUCTION

Introduction Part 1

K. C. Armstrong wrote a book? That guy can’t spell the word ‘book,’ much less read one. But write one? OK, it’s official—this is the end of times.

I saw that in a chat room, and I thought it might be fun to add on to the thread. I joined the conversation: "Yeah, the book is called Simply Amazing. Really? Let’s suggest what the real title should be. I have some ideas to start us off. How about Simply Amazing to Sell Five Copies? Or Simply Amazing I Bought This or, my favorite, Simply Shit. Anyway, yes, I did write this book, and I want to thank each one of you for picking it up. Let me explain.

I have been blessed with an incredible life and unbelievable opportunities. However, I am a complete ingrate who, for some reason, has done my best to destroy everything good in my path- including me. I guess that’s where I should start, and I promise to be as brief as I can: I just want you to understand how this book came about and where my idea came from.

First of all, most of you would never know my name if it were not for Howard Stern. After I played my fifth football season with the Western Kentucky Hilltoppers, I was offered a job working for the most talented radio visionary of all time. I’ll always respect him, and though I’m sure I let him down in the end, I did the best I could and held it all together for as long as possible.

I haven’t told many people about this, but after I was fired by Infinity Broadcasting, the years that followed were spent in some of the darkest places one could imagine. Maybe I’ll get into that in the next book, but I’ll just say this:

Years after I was fired, I was homeless in California, living in a car that I’ll just say did not belong to me. It was then that I was approached by a publisher who offered me a million dollars—that’s right, one million dollars—to think of all the negative and revealing things I might know or have heard about Howard for a tell-all book. The truth is, Howard is a human just like all of us; he’s not perfect, but he gave me a job right out of college and always treated me with respect. Years after I was let go, he’d remember my birthday and help me the best he could. I know that publisher to this day, and though I didn’t know it at the time, if the guy had a million pennies, I’d be shocked. However, when you wake up in a hot car with the sun beating down on you so bad that you are gasping for air, you’ll listen to anything that could possibly change your life.

The point of this story is not to congratulate myself or tell you what a loyal guy I am; it’s to tell you that our mistakes do not define who we are. But they do put us where we are. As Adam Duritz from Counting Crows said in a song, Got this little revolver of stupid choices. I had been so lucky to be able to learn from the best in radio. I also met the funniest and most interesting and loyal fans. I’m nothing special, but I never even considered that offer. I said there was nothing I knew to tell, and I wasn’t interested. Besides, I had just found a nice parking spot next to a Denny’s that I knew had a big bathroom, so I was planning a nice shower in the sink. Much more important stuff to do in those days.

There’s a lesson here somewhere. It can always be worse. Yes, I was homeless, but I was HOMELESS IN CALIFORNIA. Do you know in Southern California, it is around seventy degrees every day, and it rains maybe three times a year? Nice! When I used to walk to the deli in New York at 5:00 a.m. to get Howard’s breakfast, I would see homeless men and women sleeping in the subway grates where the warm air came through and wondered how anyone could have the mental toughness to live that way. I even asked one of them that question one time, and the gentleman told me that I had to be quiet because the mother ship in his navel was about to release a sulfur oxide into his beard, and his appointment with Liberace was canceled because of the letter his pet lizard wrote to his uncle back when seagulls controlled Parliament. True story. And by the way, two hours into the conversation, I learned that this gentleman invented the raising of one eyebrow when a situation is suspicious.

See? That’s what this book is about. Obviously, that homeless man was mentally ill. And so was I, but still, we both have a story to tell. Everybody has a story. Who’s to say one is more valid than another? We all look at the world through different eyes. I may have actually learned this whole concept from Howard. You could be a dwarf, a hooker, a member of the mob, someone who runs through the streets of NY wearing nothing but high heels gangster style. (Right?) But we all have feelings, experiences, challenges, and a story.

I’m filibustering, pontificating, and probably some other big words too, so let me get to the point. This book is called Simply Amazing for a reason. I started WMAP Radio (World’s Most Amazing People) three years ago, and it turns out that the theme of this book reflects one of the greatest lessons of my life. We are all given talent and opportunities. Sometimes we use them effectively, but other times, we forget our own value, and self-doubt and depression can swallow us whole. Negativity and destruction can come from the outside, like an accident, act of war, or cruelty from others, or from the inside, like being a coward like me who could never understand why victories and successes were empty and unfulfilling and how it was easier and somehow a compromise to the ones I loved to slowly drink myself to death. Problem is, if you want something bad enough, you’re probably gonna get it.

This isn’t a story you never heard before. I’ve done irreversible damage to my health, and whatever time I have left I want to use to make memories that bring people up and maybe help someone who can’t or refuses to see anything amazing about themselves.

Truth be told, I’ve been admitted to the hospital fifty-three times, from what began with a few of those mini bottles of vodka a night and later escalated into a potential death sentence.

I had always had serious problems with depression. I’d use relationships with women to replace the sadness and emptiness I felt inside. Again, even though I am so fortunate, there is that ingrate monster that won’t go away, not with all the medication in the world and certainly not by talking about what was wrong. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you what was wrong. All I knew is that there was next to nothing that made me feel proud of anything or any sense of true accomplishment.

When I was younger, I thought that if one day I developed fame, then my problems would be over. Quite the opposite. I worked for someone who was famous and had lots of fans, and he made me part of his show. I was asked to take pictures with his fans, sign autographs, do appearances, and so on. But what ended up happening is that although it was great getting this special treatment and attention, it made me feel really strange. I remember appearing in Chicago and signing eight-by-ten headshots, seeing a line wrapped around the room and thinking, Why the hell would anyone besides my mom want this picture?

So doing appearances always made me feel like I was this guy with a huge ego that somehow planned this event and thought I was superspecial. The guy I worked for was someone special; I was just lucky to be around him. As far as personalities who came on the show, I think it’s easy to lose track and believe that you are a celebrity, when the real truth is that you work for one. Finally, my lack of self-esteem squashed that impression. I never did and still don’t think I’m anyone more interesting or better in any way than anyone else.

After my last failed relationship, I gave up on any long-term goals or attempts to live the life that I had thought I would. About seven years ago, and I’m not proud of this, I gave up. I began to not care about much. I spent the days and nights drunk.

I drank every day so I could have a conversation and fake concern or interest in anything. Nothing could make me believe that life was not the cruel joke that I so arrogantly blamed on everything and everyone but me. Like I was so important that the world stopped to screw with me. I drank each night, but the real problem started when I woke up. It was not a hangover but the feeling of nothingness. I did not care what the day brought. It was exhausting and torturous to fake caring about anything each day. I couldn’t even make small talk at the grocery store without it taking everything out of me. It hurt to smile.

So as soon as I woke up, I made sure I had at least two pints of vodka next to me. I would slam the first one like a normal person would drink a glass of water. I hate the taste of alcohol, and it burned the back of my throat each time. As soon as the pint was empty, like clockwork, it came back up. I got so used to this morning drill that I wouldn’t take my many meds until after I threw up the first pint.

Then came the second pint, and I could start my day. I didn’t get drunk or act like an asshole; I just felt normal. I remember sitting in my car in a suit, about to walk into a job interview at 9:00 a.m., and, like rapid fire, put down six shot bottles of vodka and then walked in and never slurred my speech. I was then able to feel like a human. To make a long story short, and I’ll maybe tell the whole story another time, my drinking progressed to a ridiculous amount. I’d probably drink four to six pints of straight vodka a day.

I was in such good shape when I was younger that it took around three years for the daily drinking to start to take its toll. But then I wound up with a pain in my stomach for days that was so intense that I had to go to the ER. That was the first time I was admitted to a hospital for acute pancreatitis, which is basically when you have drunk so much that your pancreas begins to digest itself. And that’s exactly what it feels like—the most severe pain I’ve ever felt in my life. They diagnose pancreatitis in several ways, but in the beginning, you can tell by what’s called your amylase and lipase levels. These are the enzymes secreted by the pancreas and liver to break down what you eat and drink.

Once diagnosed, it’s common knowledge that you cannot ever drink again. I didn’t listen. I went on to be hospitalized fifty-three times (over three years) with pancreatitis. In those three years, I would spend Christmas, my birthday, Easter, and pretty much every other holiday watching Law and Order in a hospital bed, usually with a roommate who was more annoying and inconsiderate than a hemorrhoid. You would think the brutal pain would stop me from drinking again. It didn’t. Now I’ll admit what I have to so you can start the book with an understanding of why I wrote it and started WMAP.

The details are not important, but like I said, I have done irreversible damage to my health. While my original goal may have been to drink myself to death, I later made a new and better goal: to put this book out, and it’s one positive thing I’ve accomplished. I’m praying I am around long enough to see the many ways that I’m hoping this book helps people come to be.

As of March 2018, I have chronic pancreatitis, and most of my pancreas is calcified, meaning it’s dead and not coming back. I have a piece of metal inside me that keeps me from bleeding out again. I had an emergency surgery after I came within minutes of dying from blood loss; the entire volume of blood in my body had to be replaced. I’m not going to risk upsetting people and having them act weird around me, so I’m not revealing an expiration date on myself.

So yes, I came breaths away from death, and there are doctors who tell me I’ll be lucky to have a few years left, but there are some who say differently. I choose to believe them. Whatever happens, though, I want to prove to you what I know now. I wish I could have learned it a different way, and I wish I could have been nicer to myself because I now realize I’m not such a bad guy, but it’s the truth. You are amazing. I don’t know you, but you are.

Remember, many of us fall, sometimes to great depths. The difference between a common person and a truly amazing one is in learning, growing, accepting, and changing what we can. I hope you can relate to some of the interviews here. These are all told by people who can encourage us to rise above pain and misfortune. They have all made a lasting impression on me, and I hope they have the same effect on you. I’m just the messenger. But it feels really good to be the messenger of hope as I share the inspiring stories of these truly amazing people.

Introduction Part 2

Anything in moderation is usually OK, but unfortunately for me, I have no idea what the concept of moderation is. When you spend half your adult life alone in hospitals, you can’t help but do some soul-searching, personal inventory, and introspection.

One of those brilliant sessions yielded my acknowledgment of how much I drank each day for four or five years. If a shot is one and a half ounces, then I drank thirty to forty shots a day. A pint is sixteen ounces; that’s over ten shots. A liter is thirty-four ounces. That’s over two pints. It took me a week at Mather Hospital to figure those mathematics out, so don’t say I never taught you anything. Are you impressed I could figure out that if you add up all the drinks I had, it comes out to about the same amount of liquid as Drakkar Cologne sprayed on a Friday night on the South Shore of Long Island in 1988?

All the drinking established a pattern for me. It would start with excruciating pain, which after a few days would send me to the ER. Immediately, I’d be admitted to the hospital. Once admitted, the procedure is fairly common. You cannot eat or drink anything for three to five days as they put you on an NPO diet and IV fluids. NPO is IV fluids only, and you are not allowed to eat anything, not even an ice cube.

After the great doctors and nurses at Mather and St. Charles hospitals repeatedly got me back to health, they told me (after around the twentieth hospitalization) that something in my body had severely changed. They told me I was getting so bad that my next drink most likely would kill me, and very soon, my luck would run out.

Depression and desperation will make you throw yourself away. I’m sure from the outside, it appeared that I had zero respect for life, mine or anyone else’s, or that I must really hate myself because I was choosing to torture myself until I finally could not. It’s been said that an attack of acute or chronic pancreatitis is one of the most painful conditions to endure. A total of 2 mg of dilaudid wears off in sixty minutes, and then you’re begging to die for the next hour, dry heaving and feeling like your organs are digesting themselves. Trust me, it is so painful you pray for death. You’re helpless.

I have met such amazing doctors and nurses who never judge; they just want you to get better. Their kindness and compassion give you faith in people, even when the pain is so bad you forget about every dream, everything you love. You just want it to stop. You will do anything to make it stop. This last birthday, I’m ashamed to say the pain was so severe I no longer prayed for it to stop. I prayed to die. July 17, 2017, is a day I will never forget. I’ve had broken ribs, dozens of concussions, been stabbed, tazed, and bear sprayed, so I know a bit about pain. This was something different. I pray nobody ever feels pain like that.

It’s true, I have nobody to blame but me. I beat the shit out of myself mentally, physically, and spiritually to a point where it’s hard to ever forgive myself. I never heard a voice inside my head say, Leave that guy alone … He’s not so bad. How much more do you expect him to take? I only felt disgust, shame, rage, hatred, and disappointment every day, every hour, and I just wanted it to stop. That is the best explanation of why I drank knowing it was killing me. Drinking was the only thing that turned down the dial of agony a bit. I can’t say it enough, and if you know an addict and wonder how someone could be so selfish, I assure you they don’t do it to hurt or insult you. The addict is no longer having fun or partying. They are most likely doing their best to make it to the next day. I’ve heard people say things like I work a job and have responsibilities. I’d love to get drunk every day. No you would not. I promise you.

The nightmare that becomes your life from drugs and alcohol happens faster than you think, and it’s no longer a choice. It will make you think that you are just running out the clock; it will make you start every sentence with remember. You get to a place where you so badly want that hole in your heart filled with something, someone, anything. You don’t care about outcomes. You just want it all to stop.

So I would go right back to drinking. I left the hospital and went directly to the liquor store. There were times I remember that I’d even bring bottles into the hospital with me, and when the pain was getting better, I’d drink them before being discharged.

It’s hard to admit all these things, but I truly want my mistakes and my self-destruction to build someone else up. A lot of people don’t think they can be helped; they feel they deserve a life of agony, but some of them endure it because of the love they have for other people.

I can only tell you how I felt and what I did. I would get so angry and full of rage, living a life void of any interest, ambition, or joy, whatsoever. I never told anyone. This was the most hatred for any human I ever had in my life. ME.

After around the thirtieth or fortieth discharge from the hospital, the doctors were starting to be right—my luck was running out. I started bleeding. I started seeing pools of blood after I went to the bathroom. I didn’t think too much of it, but eventually, I got tired and out of breath walking up a small flight of stairs, and I’d run out of breath talking on the air, not to mention people telling me I was so white I looked dead.

One day I was on the air for another radio station, and as soon as I got off the air and began walking toward the exit of the building, thank God, the Princess was there to save my life. I told her I needed to sit down before I could manage the three steps to get to the parking lot. She told me that she was taking me to the hospital because I looked scary. I said I just wanted to go home to sleep. She came back from getting the car, and apparently, I had fallen off a bench and was lying on the floor in the lobby of the office building.

Before I knew it, an ambulance was there, and I was taken to the nearest hospital. I arrived with my blood pressure too faint to put in an IV. I was dying. My long-term plan and my hard work were about to pay off. It took two nurses to try and put an IV into my jugular vein, each stopping unsuccessfully after what seemed like an hour before throwing up their hands. As the second nurse gave up, I swear I heard her say, It’s not gonna work. I assumed that this was it. Then a third nurse came over to stick needles and wires into my neck. Now, as I said, I’ve been stabbed before, and it’s quick. Your skin is no match for the blade of the knife. With just a little bit of force, the blade goes in with almost a pop sound, and then the most pain comes when it gets pulled out, depending how deep it went.