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    Lady Gaga's Dogwalker Shares A Video From The Hospital

    Lady Gaga's dogwalker, who was assaulted in Los Angeles a few weeks ago, has posted a video on his recovery from the hospital room.

    Ryan Fischer was the victim of a shooting when he was taking Lady Gaga's dogs out for a late night walk in Malibu a few weeks ago. It was reported he received several injuries.

    In the new video,  we can see Ryan getting up from his hospital bed and dancing into his new found freedom. In the same post, he described his recovery as, "a meeting with his mortality."

    ""Recovery isn’t a Straight Line.'"

    J, a Clinical Partner at the hospital, said this to me as I paused to catch my breath and take in another piece of art on the wall. It was one of my first walks since being transferred from the ICU to another floor, and just the act of considering and consuming art - especially after a year of not going to museums due to Covid - felt like a gift. Everything did at that point. I cracked a smile staring at the abstract alligator, steadied myself on the IV pole and his arm, and began walking again. The conversation returned to future dreams, and, while the support he and others gave me on those walks offered such comfort, I didn’t fully understand J’s words. For me, I was recovering remarkably fast. In days I had gone from bleeding out on a sidewalk, to overly-active ICU patient (which they were VERY not used to), to just waiting for my lung to heal so I could go home: everything appeared quite straight forward.
    And so, with the chest tube removed (which I can only equate to an alien baby extraction) and my blood oxygen stable, the journey outside to recover with loved ones began. I was prepared to quietly start a path to healing from the emotional trauma and continue on my way. Life would be back to normal soon enough. Unfortunately, the strange hissing and glugging coming from my chest every time I took a breath begged to differ with that assessment. A doctor visit and x-ray followed, and soon after I was whisked to the same ER where I had been only a week earlier: my lung had collapsed, and air was filling up my chest cavity. Along with accepting the the news that I was about to be readmitted, several nurses and doctors told me how they had been in the room when I came in with my gunshot. How they didn’t think I was going to make it. My mind transported me to that night when I was evaluating the shock and concern on their faces as blood spurted out of me on to them, the table, and floor (and I tried to bring levity to the situation by making jokes and obvious statements like, “Well that doesn’t look good,” as they raced around attempting to stabilize me), but to hear them actually say it…..

    had truly been confronted with my mortality.
    Back in the hospital, my lung collapsed again despite the new chest tube poking at my insides. And then it collapsed again. And again. Each time was a fun surprise to me and practitioners alike as my blood oxygen remained at or near 100%, so I evaded detection until I was getting an X-ray or MRI or CT scan to check on other issues (like the nerve damage I was starting to realize I had in my right shoulder and tricep). Soon followed a team of people rushing in once more to fix the kink in my chest tube or whatever else was causing the collapse. It became quite clear that my lung was not healing, and the bullet wound had scarred my tissue like a burn. It could take months, if ever, for the hole to seal. Lunches of grilled cheese and tomato soup and art walks blurred into one until the day came to remove portions of my lung. As I was being wheeled into surgery, I finally accepted my recovery had become anything but a straight line.
    Now that I’m finding my way in the outside world where triggers are real and working through trauma is WAY more than dealing with one unfortunate moment in life, I look back at my exit from the hospital and smile that I continue to approach each day the same way. The journey is hard, it’s assuredly painful, and questionable choices that no longer serve me like wearing skinny jeans are made. But I try. And somewhere within that I find the absurdity and wonder and beauty this life offers us all.


    Ryan has thanked Lady Gaga multiple times for her love and support, and we wish him a speedy recovery.

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