Rick Najera - Almost White: Forced Confessions of a Latino in Hollywood

Free e-Newsletters
from Hay House, the Ultimate
Resource for Inspiration

Be the first to know about Hay Houses dollar deals, free downloads, special offers, affirmation cards, giveaways, contests and more!

	Get exclusive excerpts from our latest releases and videos from Hay House Present Moments.
	Enjoy uplifting personal stories, how-to articles and healing advice along with videos and empowering quotes within Heal Your Life.
	Have an uplifting story to tell and a passion for writing? Sharpen your writing skills with insider tips from Your Writing Life.

Visit www.hayhouse.com to sign-up today

Copyright 2013 by Rick Najera

Published in the United States by: SmileyBooks, 250 Park Avenue South, Suite #201, New York, NY 10003 www.SmileyBooks.com

Distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au Published and distributed in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk Published and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA (Pty), Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.za Distributed in Canada by: Raincoast: www.raincoast.com Published and distributed in India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Cover Design: Juan Roberts/Creative Lunacy

Interior Design: Cindy Shaw/CreativeDetails.net

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private useother than for fair use as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviewswithout prior written permission of the publisher.

The opinions set forth herein are those of the authors, and do not necessarily express the views of the publisher or Hay House, Inc. or any of its affiliates.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013943812

Tradepaper ISBN: 978-1-4019-4312-7

14 13 12 11 4 3 2 1

1st edition, September 2013

Printed in the United States of America

To my wife, Susie, and our children,
Julian, Sonora, and Kennedy
your love has made me a better man.

Authors Note

This is a work of nonfiction.
Conversations have been reconstructed
to the best of my memory.

PROLOGUE:
WELCOME
TO THE ICU

Although I lived in comedy, I looked more like
a victim in a medical drama. The wound to my head
created a dangerous swelling on my brain.

I was bleeding badly. My forehead was pouring blood from a wound over my right eye. I was incoherent from the fever raging throughout my body. They found a blood trail leading from my front room to the living room to under my daughters bed, as if I had sought refuge there. More blood led to my bedroom, where I finally collapsed.

My house looked more like a crime scene than a home. They found blood outside as well. Where it all began I will never know for sure. What is certain is that, after I struck my head, I crawled my way to my bedroom. It was over six hours before my wife and daughter found me. By that time, the wound over my eye bled slowly because I had so little blood left to lose.

Susie, my wife, said I was unresponsive when she dialed 911. I was lucky my wife was Anglo. If she had been Latina, she would have never called 911 until she had thought of a good alibi to tell the police. I joke, mostly because its how I deal with pain. Its also how I find my way to the truth.

I had pneumonia and I didnt even know it. The pneumonia had left me hallucinating with fever, which must have caused me to have a seizure and fall. I always said I never felt rested with my hectic schedule and now, ironically, I was deep in a coma.

When the paramedics arrived, they assigned me a number three on the official Glasgow Coma Scale (GCS). Why they rate comas in Glasgow is a mystery, but a three on the coma scale is as close to death as one can be. When the ambulance brought me into the ICU, the doctors confirmed my Glasgow three. Although Susie was hysterical and crying, had I been conscious, I would have been fixated on the GCS. Thats just how my mind works. A coma scale named after a city is a concept too enticing to ignore.

Do other cities have coma scales named after them? Why not a Tulsa, Oklahoma Coma Scale (which must be a very deep coma with fried catfish and cars going in a circle)? Why do people in Glasgow rate comas? Was it for bragging rights? Ach, Seamus, a three on the Glasgow Coma Scale is nothing. I was a wee two and still could drive myself to the hospital!

In reality, there were much more important questions that needed to be answered, such as, was I going to live? And, if I did return to the living, would I have brain damage? It was so sudden, my fall. One moment youre living and the next, youre almost dead. There is no brave final speech as you lie dying on the noble field of battle. Most people die in mundane ways. Like choking on a ham sandwich or an allergic reaction to a bee sting. Or lately, from texting while driving, leaving last texts like IM RUNNING A LITTLE LAAAAAAAAAAATE. This is how you die surprised and alone.

Within hours, friends heard of my collapse on Facebook. Then it spread to Twitter. I was an Internet sensation. The rumors were flying. Stroke. Heart attack. Some said I had walked in on a robbery. The truth was this: I was dying from a perfect storm of pneumonia and head injury. The pneumonia, coupled with a seizure and a fall, created a gaping wound over my right eye. Days later in the hospital, I had two black and swollen eyes and blistered lips. I looked like someone who lost a battle in a medieval war.

After my MRI, the doctors warned my wife, Rick may not come back as his normal self. If I had been conscious, I would have told them that was a good thing. Normal is not a word that describes me. Being abnormal is closer to my normal state. Days later they had to tie me down. I had torn the IV line out of my arm in a rage against death.

Ironically, although I lived in comedy, I looked more like a victim in a medical drama. The wound to my head created dangerous swelling on my brain. The doctors gave me blood thinners and put me under so they could buy some time and figure out the cause. The answer was simple. Pressure, pressure, relentless unending pressure! I had been under extreme pressure, overworked, and exhausted. I had been overworked for some time, perhaps all of my life.