I'm sitting here with a broken leg, and with nothing but time on my hands. It was little more than six weeks ago that a seventy-six-year-old psychiatrist from my hometown decided to drive home from work after dark, seemingly forgot to turn her lights on, pretended she was in a NASCAR race, and mowed me down as I was crossing a street on foot. She said she never saw me. It was mutual. I had been trying to get ice cream at a popular, local ice cream store, and had been crossing the street with my extended family in tow. Any one of us could have been hit, ranging from my 16-year-old niece to my ninety-three-year-old mom.
I wish you deep healing, and yes, your wife rocks!
Thank you for everything! Wishing you a speedy recovery. -Edith & Sara