I'm always a sucker for heroic, against-all-odds stories and, of course, as a nonfiction writer, I am especially moved when the story is true. Yes, there is value in truth. I spent part of today reading Jim Murphy's new book Breakthrough: How Three People Saved "Blue Babies" and Changed Medicine Forever.
I've given my strange proclivities a lot of thought, and the only source of blame I can point to is my dad, Dr. Robert M. Miller, aka RMM, Bob, or "Doc." Most people assume that being the child of a veterinarian (a large and exotic vet, at that) isn't all that different from having a parent who's an MD, if they think about it at all.
A box won't define me anymore. I won't feel like I'm carrying a small "purse" or camera anymore. It will be implanted inside me. The defibrillator will be part of me. I may face new obstacles in my recovery, but with two heart-related operations in six months under my belt, I've become a stronger person -- inside and out.