CHEYENNE - Kevin Monk may not be able to tell you anything about his childhood, or even what he did two minutes ago, but he can tell you one thing for sure - he's been to heaven and back.

Monk suffered a traumatic closed brain injury when he was T-boned eight years ago in a midsize car by a large pickup truck.

The truck hit the car directly on the driver-side door going 55 mph.

Monk received no direct trauma to his head, but the impact shook his brain to the point of destruction. And with the trauma, Monk lost his memory.

"It's like a file cabinet where all the files have been moved and overturned and moved around so I can't get to them," Monk said.

"It's real bad, it upsets me too, big time, because just the knowledge that all the information that I've ever learned in my life is up here but I can't get to it."

In addition to the brain injury, Monk ruptured his spleen, broke his pelvis in three places and broke all of the ribs on his left side.

He was only 25 years old.

Monk went into a coma upon impact and had no measurable brain function for 18 days. He spent three months in a coma.

"Some of the doctors told Mom and Dad to just pull the plug," Monk said.

"We heard that for months," Monk's mom, Janice Monk, added. "From every place we went, they told us he'd never be anything but a vegetable."

Hearing this makes Monk mad.

"Doctors are there to heal," he said, "not to give up."

But Monk never gave up on himself. He did wake up, and he's no vegetable. Beyond the injuries he suffered to his pelvis, his brain would never allow it. But Monk did re-learn to walk. And he does it now without any assistance.

"I remember when I first started to walk I had to tell myself: left, right, left, right," Monk said with a laugh.

He had to use muscle stimulators to trigger a reaction in his brain.

Now Monk just has to wear a lift in his left shoe because his pelvis was never fully repaired.

But the hardest thing for Monk to deal with is not remembering all the things he used to.

Right after the accident, he didn't know his family. He didn't know he had an identical twin brother, David. He didn't even know his own name.

"We were together for six months, and the night before we brought him home, he asked me if Mom was coming the next day," Janice said.

Even now, he has trouble putting faces to names. He's more impulsive than he's ever been.

"Now he's just in the moment," Janice said. "He doesn't have a past, and he doesn't think that far into the future either."

But more than anything, Monk doesn't want people to think he's unintelligent.

"There are times when I feel stupid because I can't remember anything," Monk said, "but it's amazing what I can do."

"He worries that he isn't doing anything productive," Janice explained. "He wanted to give so much, so we have to keep emphasizing that he is doing things - he's helping people."

Monk was in medical school when the accident happened. He intended to give his life as a naval officer.

"He was so driven and focused prior to the accident," Janice said. "He put everything aside to become a doctor.

"He put everything on hold."

She said that unlike Kevin's twin brother, they never had to convince Kevin to study.

"In school and college and stuff, I helped him get good grades, he helped me have a life," Monk said.

Monk had a knack for detail. He earned his bachelor's degree in chemistry from the University of Wyoming and went on to medical school in Minnesota.

"I was a third-year medical student when it happened," Monk said. "So apparently before the accident my memory was extremely good."

Although Monk doesn't remember these things firsthand, he remembers all the stories he has heard since the accident. Now Monk's memory comes in flashes.

"It's so bizarre, because there is no rhyme or reason to what he remembers and what he doesn't," Janice said. "He remembers the song lyrics to every song, but he can't tell you two minutes from now what he's done."

Monk's father, Ken Monk, said it all depends on what side of the brain is injured.

"Kevin being left-handed, they told us, really made a difference because if he had been right-handed, he probably wouldn't be talking right now," Pat said. "But they did say that Kevin is a very smart individual.

"His brain being so smart going into the accident is a large part of why he is functioning so well."

"I learned a lot quicker than I did when I was growing up," Monk said of his recovery from the crash. "But literally, I had to learn everything over and over."

Monk wakes up every morning, showers, makes breakfast and lives his life like everyone else. The only difference is that Monk has to have a caregiver living with him 24 hours a day, seven days a week in case he forgets to take his medications or where he is.

"You go to the house and you forget that you have an apartment, or you come here and you forget that this was your apartment and not your house," Janice told her son.

She said it happened over the Independence Day weekend.

"I do?" Monk asked, tears welling in his eyes.

He feels bad and worries about the effect his poor memory has on his family.

"I have to keep telling myself that you know why my memory is bad," he said.

But Monk cherishes these days more than most because he knows how fragile life can be. He also knows that he has a purpose for being here - because God told him so. It took months for Monk to even be able to speak and then months after that to learn English again.

But once he got it down, he told his family that while he was in coma he talked to God.

It's one story Monk never forgets, and it never changes.

"He said, 'My son, I'm not ready for you yet. You still have many things to do for us down there, and when it's your day, I'll bring you back home, but not yet,"' Monk said.

This is Monk's daily reminder that no matter his circumstances, he has to help people.

And Monk takes God's words to heart.

Every Tuesday, Monk teaches a class he has nicknamed "Kevin-size" at the Sierra Hills Assisted Living Community. At a recent class, he and his caregiver, Becky Palmer, sat in a circle with at least 20 residents.

"Head turn to the left - one, pause, two, pause, three…" Monk said. "Take three deep breaths."

He repeated the process for 30 minutes throughout various exercises.

Monk made jokes about the wonderful Wyoming air and never stopped smiling.

At the end of the class, he serenaded the group with "God Bless America."

When he finished, they all stood and clapped.

"I love Tuesday mornings," Monk said. "I'm glad I can come and do this. Period, I'm glad I can do anything."

But his favorite part is witnessing to the people living there. He doesn't want them to be afraid of death because he knows there is something more.

"He brings a lot of comfort to the people at Sierra Hills because he tells them about heaven and how wonderful it is," Janice said. "He's made a big difference in a lot of people's lives."