Losing the Will to Live, Why?

Copyright © 2013 by Arnie Burzynski.

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Rev. date: 10/28/2013

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Contents

Chapter 1   Introduction

Chapter 2   Dedications

Chapter 3   The Early Years

Chapter 4   First Cycle of Eschatology

Chapter 5   Moving Forward Years

Chapter 6   Second Cycle: Hello Grim Reaper

Chapter 7   The Agony Begins

Chapter 8   Third Cycle: Angel of Death Returns

Chapter 9   The Mental Anguish is Back

Chapter 10   A Compendium of Misery and Losses Sustained

Chapter 11   My Plan to Live with my Tragedies and Losses, Mentally and Emotionally

Chapter 12   At Last, Dawn is Breaking

Chapter 13   Finally Winning the Will to Live

Chapter 1

Introduction

The main objective in this book is to help others in the world to cope with some, or as much death, as I have endured in my lifetime so far. My grieving seems to last forever. Maybe it will last a lifetime, I don’t know.

This book is about losses in life. It is about suffering, major depression, anger, forgiveness, resentments, misery, loneliness, agony, and suicidal thoughts; but most of all, fighting the devil himself.

This book will not be friendly to the human mind, but it is reality and filled with the feelings and pain I have endured. It is about suffering with a drinking problem and, what I have done this past year to get on track and pick up the broken pieces and, put my life back together again.

MARION BILL BURZYNSKI

by

Nicholas Burzynski

Marion Bill Burzynski

Marion Burzynski was in the Army for three years and two months. For a little under two years of that time he fought in the Korean War and for about a year he was away from combat because he was injured and was then put on light duty.

I joined the Army in June of 1949. They sent me to Fort Riley, Kansas for basic training. After that I went to California for some more training. Japan was my next stop but for only two weeks. Then the war in Korea started. It started on my 19th birthday, which was June 25, 1950. I landed at Inchon for some training.

The troops I was with started moving north and that’s where the fighting started for us. We were all trapped and the planes that dropped food for us also dropped the food to the North Korean troops. Every member of the American troops had a Southern Korean with them because they know the territory and how to get around. The South Koreans went some place and got us some type of rice balls to eat.

We finally fought our way north some more and in November of 1950 we were surrounded again by the North Koreans. Around that time China sent down one million Chinese soldiers to help the North Koreans. The North Koreans were on opium and when they got shot they would sit there and laugh. We had to shoot at night to keep the enemies back. When I was on guard, the shrubs and bushes would start to look like enemy soldiers. The more I looked at them the more they would look like they had a gun. When my shift was up I would have to give the password or I would be shot. The next morning we fought our way out of there.

While heading north, there were roadblocks to slow us down. We had to clear the roads so vehicles could get through. Sometimes it would be because there were trees on the road, but then other times it would be dead bodies. The North Koreans stacked all of their enemies on the roads. While we were cleaning off the roads, the North Koreans would shoot at us. That was where I was shot. The first bullet ricocheted off the road and hit me in the left ankle. Then another shot hit me in the left arm. The next two shots I didn’t even feel. The third one went into my right knee and the fourth one hit me in the right shoulder. The guy next to me got shot in the head. An American plane tried to help us by strafing the frozen ground to keep the enemies away. The frozen ground was hitting me while I kept moving on. I was running through the brush trying to catch up to everyone else. They were ahead of me dragging a big orange panel so the plane would know not to shoot at them. When I got to the Chosen Reservoir, the rest of my troops were about three quarters of a mile ahead of me. I ran out of bullets but found a carbine of bullets for it in the brush. I had walked about eight miles from where I was shot to the Chosen Reservoir. Even on the ice I was being shot at but I was never hit. Finally a truck came and picked me up and took me to a first aid station.

At the first aid station they cut my clothes and boots off. That night there was a lot of bombing around the area. I wondered if I was going to make it out of there because the bombs were so close. The next day they flew me to Hawaii. There they took the bullets out of my ankle. That was where they took out the bullets in bad places. A couple of days later they flew me to Texas where they took out the bullet that was in my arm.

Two days later they flew me to Indiana. They sent a message home to my parents saying that I was wounded in action. They would fly men closest to home so they could take their thirty-day leave. I was walking on crutches at that time. While in Indiana, I complained several times that my neck itched so they x-rayed my shoulder and found the last bullet. It had been there for about three weeks. Finally they took that bullet out. The one that hit my knee went right through. I was in the hospital for ten and a half months. Once a man is stable or can walk at least with crutches they send him to see his family.

I was finally home, but only for thirty days. After the thirty days I could walk without crutches. I went back and was put on light duty. Since I was on light duty, they had me driving a Cadillac ambulance to take soldiers’ wives with premature babies that were on oxygen to the Indianapolis hospital. Then they sent me home again for another thirty days and when I could walk better. When I went back I was discharged. That was in August of 1952. I served in the Army for three years and two months.

After the Korean War, for 14 years Marion had nightmares about his experiences. He married Rose Wincek on May 29, 1954 in Thorp, Wisconsin. He also bought his father’s family farm and farmed for 39 years.

Chapter 2

Dedications

1969    To my Grandmother, Sophie (my mother’s mother}, who hung herself in a basement in Chicago, Illinois. She was 79-years-old and very depressed.

1974    To my youngest brother, Danny, who was 16-years-old when hit by a car of drunk teenagers as he was walking down the road; the car never stopped.

1976    To my mother, Rose, who, at the age of 40, and very depressed, drank a can of lye, which killed her.

1978    To my youngest sister, Lily, who was 16-years-old when killed by a drunk driver.

2000    To my nephew, Kevin, who was 15-years-old when he was killed in a car accident, driven by two young girls who were intoxicated.

2002    To my younger sister, Shirley, at age 41-years-of age, drove her car into a tree, at 90 mph, because she was depressed for losing her son in 2000.

2004    To my nephew, Andy, who at 17-years-of-age shot himself with a 12-guage shotgun; he was depressed because of his mother’s and brother’s deaths.

2008    To my brother, Kenny, who took his life with a 38-pistol near where his sister had died.

2010    To my wife, Pegi, who divorced me after 33-years of marriage.

Chapter 3

The Early Years

1955

I was born March 30,1955, as the eldest of my parents’ offspring. I thought it was a tough job being the eldest. From 1955 until 1961, I don’t recall too much; it seems like such a long time ago.

SEPTEMBER 1961

I will start with my memories of first grade, back then it was called kindergarten, pre-school didn’t exist yet. I went to school in a little red brick building, approximately 20’ X 30’ room with 40 small, wooden desks. Our teacher had 1st and 2"d graders on one side and 3rd and 4th graders on the other. Of course there was not a wall to divide. She would work on the little guys for 30 minutes and then move to the bigger guys for 30 minutes. When you stop to think about it, that had to be one tough job, teaching 40 kids in four different grades during the same school day. I don’t believe you will see that any more.

I lived on the farm, which my father had purchased from his father after he returned from Korea. Actually, he returned from Indiana where he spent six months healing up from five gunshot wounds he received from the one million Red Chinese that came down and kicked our ass. Welcome to America.

1962

This year is pretty much the same as the previous year, except that now I am a 2nd grader and my brother, Kenny, is in 1st grade.

1963

September of 1963 we finally moved out of the red brick school into town. A new High School had been constructed and 8th graders were a part of it. I remember being at the big school in that small town (November 22.

1963) when they announced the assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy. That was my first experience with death and had no idea of what to think. In the end, nobody ever really explained what had happened. Welcome to America, land of the free?

In the 3rd grade I memorized all the birds in the countryside for some reason.

1965

I started working for an old guy, his name was Nick. I was helping him milk cows with a milking machine, while he would milk three or four by hand. I was being paid $2.00 an hour. In the summer months I worked for him and he took real good care of me. Nick would buy 500 .22-rifle bullets a week for me, plus pay me a good wage. He had a big shaggy dog named Boots. I worked for him for two summers. It was fun starting all the tractors by turning the flywheel on the side. Nick nearly ran me over several times trying to back up while hooking up wagons.

1966

In the summer I had money so I started buying firecrackers and selling them to make extra money. I also bought a Honda 70, just a little motor scooter to get around with.

1967

My dad and mother sold the farm, which was originally my grandfather’s, to some people in Chicago, Illinois. Then my parents proceeded to purchase my grandmother’s farm of 240 acres. Grandma was still living there and they tried to take care of her.

1968

My folks couldn’t take care of grandma anymore, so they put her into a county home. She was 76-years-old and Ithink she went downhill, since her husband died four years earlier. Sometimes people just lose the will to live with nothing to look forward to anymore. Why is that in life?

That is why the name of this book is what it is. I had gotten to a point in my life where I did not want to live. It has really taken a toll on my life, financially, emotionally, and my living conditions. Welcome to America!

Chapter 4

First Cycle of Eschatology

1969-1978

My Mother’s Mother (my Grandmother) had been in the care of my folks on the farm for approximately one year and her condition with depression became increasingly worse each day. Finally my parents admitted her to the Clark County Care Center.

After two months’ time had passed my Mother’s youngest sister came from Chicago and figured she could take care of Grandma. Well, after 3 months went by my Grandmother hung herself in the basement while everyone slept. This really devastated my Mother and the rest of the family.

1969

I remember in 1969 my Mother and Father were both working at Presto in Eau Claire, WI making shell casings for Vietnam. Little did I know, my brother and I would end up there later in life. At the time I had no idea they were making the casings to help us win the war.

I also remember not having a job in 1969 while living at home on the farm. It was my Mother’s parents’ farm and, of course, I was getting bored with myself and started cutting my arms with a razor blade. I have no idea why I think of this now; I guess it was only to feel pain or something. That whole habit ended real quickly when my Dad noticed and he was really pissed off about it. Later that year I got a job at a cheese factory making $.90 an hour which was considered big money that day in age.

1970

I quit school and started working full time at the cheese factory, about 14 or 15 hours a day. I bought my first car for $25.00; it was a 1960

Chrysler Saratoga with a big V-8 engine. In the mean time I had a motorcycle to get to and from work until I got a driver’s license. My motorcycle was a 90 Honda, which I ended up hitting a cow with in the middle of the road one night, I was going about 40 mph and broke the cow’s leg. Good thing I wasn’t hurt.

1971

I am still working and have