When I left the hospital, I thought the hardest part would be learning to walk again. I had no idea the deepest pain waiting for me had nothing to do with my in:juries
The ceiling above my hospital bed had exactly 47 tiles.
I knew because I had counted them three times while waiting for my discharge papers.
Two days earlier, a drunk driver had run a red light and turned my ordinary Tuesday commute into an ex:plosion of glass and twisted metal. I survived with a bro:ken leg, 2 frac:tured ribs, and strict instructions not to put weight on my in:jured leg for 6 weeks.