LIVE THE PASSIONATE LIFE (and quit settling for survival)


"This is my story about surviving a traumatic brain injury (and being comatose for a couple of months), practicing alcoholism and drug addiction for four years, being in numerous accidents through the years and now living with multiple sclerosis.  I also give you, the reader, a glimpse into how I stay motivated and inspired to endure this life with a smile on my face!"

20825 Highway 410

Bonney Lake, WA 98391

You have everything to share- perserverence, faith, hope, joy, love, courage, commitment, addiction - you have impact, Shane Nicolich, and will make a difference to those who read your story.

Connie Lanigan


The Miracle continues. Looking like more lives are about to be saved. Congratulations!

Dorene Hirschi


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Reading from Live The Passionate Life (and quit settling for survival):

"I do remember my speech therapist, but not much about her, other than the fact that she was helping me to make sure my speech was good, after having a (breathing) tube stuffed down my throat for a couple of months.  I will never forget my occupational and physical therapists.  They never gave up on me, no matter how much I wanted to throw in the towel at times, always there supporting me to keep making progress.  Sill to this day, I hear my physical therapist telling me, "I don't want to hear you say, 'I can't.'  Instead, say, 'Yes, I will try harder Master Larry.'"  He knew that I was a Star Wars fan and would understand his paraphrasing the words of Yoda.  It worked because I was out of the wheelchair in about a month, except when I had to go to therapy, since I was not cleared to be out of the chair ALL of the time.

     I was discharged from Good Sam on October 31st, 1986.  I was still in my wheelchair when I first got home and it was nearly impossible, not having my full strength back in my arms as of yet, to get around the house by myself.  Wheelchairs and thick shag carpet do not mix.  It did help me to gain some strength back in my arms, but more so, it strengthened my resolve to walk again and get rid of that God-forsaken chair.  After I had been home for about two or three weeks, a tutor started coming to my house three or four times each week, preparing me for my return to school.  I started back to school in January, 1987, right where I should have been in the middle of sixth grade (at the school my step-mom had enrolled me in a few days before my accident).  Apparently, the traumatic brain injury was not as traumatic as it could have been, since I passed sixth grade in one semester."