GREG KAHN / Daily News

In a deluge, Collier County then-Undersheriff Kevin Rambosk, left, handed an American flag to Deputy William Pschigoda at the Sugden Community Theatre during an abbreviated Naples Patriotic Moment on Fifth Avenue in downtown Naples on Tuesday, April 1, 2008. Pschigoda, who was almost killed in December 2006 after being struck by a car during a police chase, has since rehabbed and returned to the Collier County Sheriff's Office.

ERIK KELLAR

Just over a year after being run down at the intersection of Collier Boulevard and U.S. 41 and left near death in a pool of blood, Collier County sheriffês deputy Bill Pschigoda is preparing to make his way back to the force. His goal was to be back on road patrol in the next month or two, though he concedes he has to be re-trained and recertified on a lot of things.

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By all rights, Bill Pschigoda should be dead.

Consider, when he was a teenager Pschigoda nearly drowned after his arms got wrapped up in his diving equipment and he fell into the water without his regulator. Local fishermen pulled him out and performed CPR, saving his life.

In 1985, while battling a monstrous blaze in Golden Gate Estates, Pschigoda, then a firefighter, passed out amid the raging flames. A fellow firefighter pulled him away from danger.

But Pschigoda’s closest brush with death came at exactly 12:36 p.m. on Dec. 5, 2006, when, as he says, he “got splattered” by an out-of-control driver being pursued in a chase.

“I imitated a bug on a windshield,” Pschigoda, 42, joked recently at the Collier County Sheriff’s Office’s East Naples substation.

Pschigoda, who joined the Sheriff’s Office as a deputy in December 1985, was throwing out stop sticks to deflate the car’s tires at the intersection of Collier Boulevard and U.S. 41 East when the car, speeding at more than 80 mph, swerved and hit him.

The crash left Pschigoda clinging for life in a pool of blood on the side of the road. Pschigoda said he actually did die, but was revived by paramedics.

“This is like the fifth, sixth, ninth life that I’ve used,” Pschigoda said.

When Pschigoda miraculously regained consciousness weeks later, he faced a score of debilitating head injuries, including a quarter-sized hole in his temple exposing his skull, and a severed nerve on the right side of his head. Doctors told Pschigoda it would be years before he would be able to return to the Sheriff’s Office, and at least one told him he would never work in law enforcement again.

Pschigoda would have none of it.

Exactly one year and five months - to the minute - after he was hit, Pschigoda proved the doctors wrong by returning to work on light duty. He is now working his way through a customized training session in an effort to get back to where he left off.

*****

Recognizable by his trademark crew cut and squinting smile, Pschigoda isn’t the biggest nor most physically imposing member of the Collier Sheriff’s Office. A humble man with a strong Lutheran faith, Pschigoda’s success as a deputy is attributable to his indomitable spirit and courageous heart, Sheriff Don Hunter said.

“If I’m ever injured, I want Bill Pschigoda to be sent to render aid because of his history of doing the right thing in critical ... circumstances,” Hunter said. “He’s just one of those people you depend on to get the job done.”

Growing up, Pschigoda’s mother, Pat Pschigoda, said she stressed to her three children the importance of keeping the Pschigoda name clean.

As a former firefighter and paramedic, over the years Pschigoda developed strong friendships with emergency responders throughout Southwest Florida.

Those friendships would prove beneficial the day he was hit.

*****

Pschigoda started his 12-hour shift at 6 a.m. on Dec. 5, 2006. The day started quietly for Pschigoda, who was working as an acting supervisor with eight additional officers in East Naples.

Around lunchtime, after assisting with a house fire, Pschigoda and a group of deputies stopped at a local restaurant for a bite to eat. Before they had time to order, they got a call that a Golden Gate deputy was in pursuit of a maroon Hyundai traveling recklessly south on Collier Boulevard at high speed.

The Hyundai was driven by 21-year-old Jesus Moreno, a documented gang member and habitual felony offender who family members said had a cocaine habit.

Two deputies positioned near the entrance to Kmart off of Collier Boulevard deployed stop sticks across the roadway in an attempt to deflate Moreno’s tires. Moreno swerved and attempted to hit one of the deputies, who was able to jump out of the way, Pschigoda said.

At the intersection of Collier Boulevard and U.S. 41 East, Pschigoda flagged down an East Naples fire engine, and asked the firefighters, whom he knew, to help stop traffic. As Moreno approached, Pschigoda deployed his stop sticks.

Moreno again swerved around the stop sticks, this time striking Pschigoda with the front of his vehicle. The firefighters later told Pschigoda he flew about 10 feet into the air, landing on top of the Hyundai in a sitting position.

“I think the car took me about 200 feet down the road until I fell off on the street,” Pschigoda said.

The firefighters immediately began administering first aid, and the pursuing deputy called for an emergency helicopter to respond to the intersection. Within minutes, Pschigoda was in the helicopter on a backboard, and was on his way to Lee Memorial Hospital in Fort Myers.

“When we landed, I found out it was Billy Pschigoda,” said Lt. Ricky Garcia of Collier County EMS, who has known Pschigoda since Pschigoda was a teenager. “Of course you go into another mode. You start thinking about your friend. Then you’re thinking ‘how bad is he?’”

On a scale of one to 10, with one being fine and 10 being dead, Garcia said Pschigoda was a good eight. Garcia said Pschigoda was fortunate to have firefighters at the scene to immediately begin performing first aid and to have the helicopter available.

“It was just wonderful to see all that come together, especially when your friend is laying there,” Garcia said. “At times these things don’t happen perfectly that way. ... That wasn’t the case for Billy. I told Billy that his angel was working overtime that day.”

While working in the cafeteria at Tommie Barfield Elementary, Pat Pschigoda learned from her daughter that her son had been hit. Before she left for the hospital, she and her coworkers huddled to say a prayer.

Initially, Pat Pschigoda said, she thought her son was in the car when he got hit. But then she learned what really happened from her son-in-law, also a Collier deputy.

“He was there right after, and he’s worked accidents like this ... and he said to my daughter that people that get hit like he did and have the injuries that he had, usually don’t survive,” Pat Pschigoda said.

But Bill Pschigoda did survive.

After a week in intensive care, he was moved to another floor in the hospital. Well-wishers flooded the Fort Myers hospital to visit Pschigoda.

All the while, with his head wrapped in bandages, his right eye swollen shut, and a tube down his throat, Pschigoda’s mother and sister sat by his bedside holding his hand.

*****

When Pschigoda first regained consciousness after Christmas, the first thing he remembers is a life-sized cardboard cutout of himself dressed as Superman by his bedside. By that time Pschigoda had been transferred to a neurological rehabilitation center in Wauchula in Central Florida.

Actually, Pschigoda had been communicating with friends and relatives prior to that, but he has no recollection of any of it. Relatives told him that he spoke fluent Spanish during that period, though Pschigoda has never taken Spanish lessons.

Though he doesn’t remember it now, at that time Pschigoda also described something even more fantastic than miraculously picking up a foreign tongue.

“At one point I talked to family members and described being in a bright area; a really bright place,” he said, “and seeing family that had passed away and they said it wasn’t my time yet. And I came back.”

Though he survived being hit, Pschigoda still faced a grueling recovery. A nerve on the right side of his head was severed. He had quarter-size hole in his temple. His knee was damaged, his front teeth broken and the bones in his face were fractured.

Pat Pschigoda said her son couldn’t walk, eat by himself or bathe himself. He mumbled when he tried to talk, and had difficulty finding the appropriate words.

“He had to be taught everything all over again,” she said.

Though his father was staying with a friend near the center, Pschigoda spent a great deal of time by himself in Wauchula and began growing despondent.

“At first I blamed myself, that it was my fault that I got hurt, and that I’ll never be able to go back,” Pschigoda said.

Throughout Pschigoda’s ordeal, Sheriff Hunter kept in contact with his family. Upon learning of Pschigoda’s concerns, Hunter sent then-Undersheriff Kevin Rambosk and Chief Jim Bloom to the center to speak with him.

“They drove all the way to Sebring and reassured me that there would always be a place for me at the Sheriff’s Office,” Pschigoda said.

Unhappy with the treatment he was receiving at the center, his family brought him home on a weekend pass and never took him back.

Back home on Marco Island, Pschigoda’s friends and family helped him through months of agonizing rehabilitation, including four surgeries, physical therapy, memory therapy, eye doctor visits and dental visits. Hunter called and visited frequently, which helped Pschigoda relax, confident he would be welcomed back to the agency when he was ready.

But his real motivation to recover was the doctor who told him he would never work in law enforcement again.

“That probably started pushing me to get things done a lot faster,” Pschigoda said. “If she said that, then I knew what I wanted, and I’ll get what I want.”

*****

On a recent afternoon, in a dark room in the Professional Development Center in Naples, Pschigoda stands in front of a white screen, about 7 feet tall and 13 feet wide.

Off to the side, Sgt. Leslie Weidenhammer of the sheriff’s Training Division selects a scenario from a computer and projects it onto the screen. Like a giant video game, Pschigoda plays along.

A deputy standing in front of a home on the screen describes a domestic violence disturbance inside. With his simulated gun drawn, Pschigoda encounters a man fighting with a woman.

“Sheriff’s Office! Show me your hands! Show me your hands!” Pschigoda yells.

As the man turns, he raises a rifle toward Pschigoda.

“Drop the gun! Drop the gun!” Pschigoda yells, before opening fire and shooting the man on the screen.

The simulator is part of Pschigoda’s training plan, Weidenhammer said. The purpose is to build Pschigoda’s skills and confidence, while allowing Weidenhammer to observe his technique.

At 12:36 p.m. on May 5, Pschigoda returned to light duty with the Sheriff’s Office. Most of his time now is spent training and performing administrative duties, such as taking reports, at the East Naples substation.

For the time being, Pschigoda cannot wear a uniform or anything that identifies him as a law enforcement officer. Weidenhammer recently approved him to ride along with other deputies, but he cannot perform any law enforcement duties.

Because he was out for more than a year and was behind on his mandatory training, Weidenhammer had to develop a readjustment program specifically for Pschigoda, including critical judgment training, critical decision making, driving skills and defensive tactics.

Weidenhammer said Pschigoda has excelled in his training so far.

“Everything we’ve done with him, he’s done very well,” Weidenhammer said. “He’s come back at a pretty good level.”

Pschigoda said his memory is back to where it should be, though he still has no recollection of being hit. Within the agency, Pschigoda’s opportunities are unlimited, Hunter said.

“We wanted him to be able to roll right back in to his regular duties,” Hunter said. “We certainly wanted to send a message to the bad guys on the street that you can knock us down, but you can’t keep us down.”

*****

Though it may seem small, one of the difficulties Pschigoda faced during his recovery was watching others eat. For awhile after the crash, Pschigoda entirely lost his sense of taste.

Watching others eat his favorite foods was tough.

“Big time,” Pschigoda said. “I know what they taste like. I watch other people have them now and it looks so good.”

Pschigoda has regained the ability to taste sour, sweet and spicy, and now enjoys fruits, vegetables, chicken and bread. However, chocolate, peanuts, hamburger and steak - foods he used to love - have a “nasty taste,” Pschigoda said.

When he’s not working, Pschigoda spends a lot of time with his 2-year-old daughter, Jaydn, taking her to the park, the circus and her first movie, Pat Pschigoda said.

Pat Pschigoda said she wouldn’t be concerned if her son returns to active duty because she said he’s good at what he does. In fact, she said it would be good for him.

“Sometimes he’ll say ‘I’m sorry mom.’ I’ll say ‘what for?’ and he’ll say ‘for putting you through that,’” Pat Pschigoda said. “I say ‘you’re the one who had to go through it,’ and he said, ‘but I don’t remember any of it.’”

When Moreno, the man who struck him, was sentenced to 22 years in prison in April, Pschigoda apologized to Moreno’s family members, gave them his business card and told them to call if they needed help.

“I don’t hold any grudges or anger toward (Moreno),” Pschigoda said. “I’m mad at him putting others at risk that day.

“The big thing I want to accomplish is getting back to work. None of it crosses my mind because I’m in such a hurry to get back to the street. That chapter of my life is over.”