jake E. Lee gives medical update on his health and bulllet wound
In life, some moments stand out more than others—moments that force us to confront our mortality and redefine our strength. For many, that moment might come unexpectedly, leaving them in a situation they never thought they’d be in. This is a personal account of one such experience, an incident that involved not one, but several traumatic injuries—each of which presented its own set of challenges and lessons in survival. In part two of this story, we delve into the aftermath of the second bullet wound, an experience that was harrowing in its own right but also a testament to the resilience of the human body.
The Second Bullet: A Different Kind of Pain
The second bullet didn’t feel like the first one. If the first was a searing burn, this one was a blunt force impact. The shockwave of the bullet’s entry knocked the breath from my lungs, almost as if I had been struck by a baseball bat with tremendous force. The bullet entered through the mid-back and exited out the left side, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. It fractured two of my ribs—specifically, the 10th and 11th—and punctured my left lung. Despite the severity of the injury, however, the pain wasn’t overwhelming. On a scale from 1 to 10, I’d say it was around a 4—less a sharp agony and more a deep, unsettling pressure in my chest.
This injury felt different than what I had expected. It wasn’t the kind of pain that stops you in your tracks, but it was enough to remind me how fragile the body can be. 
A Stroke of Luck—or Fate?
When the paramedics arrived, their first concern was whether I could move my legs. They asked me to demonstrate, checking for any signs of paralysis. As they worked to stabilize me, they repeated how incredibly lucky I was. Apparently, the bullet had come very close to my spine. Later, in the ER, I was asked the same question about my legs, and the medical staff seemed equally impressed that I hadn’t sustained any more severe spinal injuries.
Over the next few days, as nurses redressed my wounds, the proximity of the bullet to my spine was a constant topic of conversation. They marveled at how narrowly I had avoided catastrophic damage. Each time I heard them say it, I felt a sense of disbelief—how had the bullet missed my spine by just millimeters? The odds seemed almost too slim to comprehend. I was incredibly fortunate, but the reality of how close I had come to a far worse fate began to sink in.
It wasn’t until my daughter, Jade, was helping me with my wound care at home that I fully understood the gravity of the situation. A few days after I was discharged, she was redressing my back when she suddenly gasped, “Oh my god, Dad.” Curious, I asked her to take a photo so I could see what everyone was talking about. When I saw the image of the entrance and exit wounds, I was struck by the realization: How had that bullet not hit my spine? The path it had taken through my body seemed almost impossibly close to critical structures, yet I had walked away with relatively minor injuries.
The photos Jade took captured the stark reality of the damage—an entrance wound in the mid-back, the bullet’s exit through the left side. The severity of the injury was apparent, but so was the sheer luck that had spared me from more devastating consequences. In the days that followed, my lung needed a tube to drain the blood that had accumulated in the chest cavity, but over time, the lung cleared, and the ribs began healing. Despite the trauma, I was slowly but surely on the road to recovery.
A Long Road Ahead
In a way, I’ve been walking a fine line between relief and disbelief. Relief, because the injuries could have been far worse, and disbelief, because the outcome seems almost miraculous. But life is like that—unpredictable, capricious, and often brutal. What matters is how you respond in the face of adversity. For me, it was about taking it one step at a time, staying focused on the future, and understanding that the odds don’t always determine the outcome.
As I look back on these days, I am filled with gratitude for the people around me—the paramedics, doctors, nurses, and especially my family—who kept me grounded and supported throughout the recovery process. It is a reminder that, even in our darkest moments, there is always a light ahead, and sometimes, it’s the smallest, most unexpected things that can save us from the worst.
Part 3 of this story will tackle the third and final bullet wound: the shot through the foot, which, as you might imagine, felt completely different from the first two. But for now, I’ll take a moment to reflect on how far I’ve come and focus on moving forward. The past is something to learn from, but the future is where my energy lies.
Stay tuned for Part 3.
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