Thanks for the link, Jeri. That is beautiful.

When I was 13, my father was hit by a speeding milk truck while driving home from work. Two ribs were broken and thrust into a lung, and he could hardly breathe. Fortunately, there was a pulmonologist in the ER, and they saved him.

Moving on to the present, I like to sing a song about Megan Murphy, who suffered broken ribs and punctured lungs while stopping a runaway team at a tourist attraction. Every time I'm supposed to sing those words my throat swells up, and I have to stop singing for a bit. I don't think I will ever conquer that, and I've decided not to try. It's part of who I am.