Motorcyles give me insomnia

My son has had some overwhelming tragedy in his life this summer. He lost a good friend in a car accident at the beginning of May. Another good friend, who helped Adam get a summer job with her father's construction company, died a week after school got out. A third, Pat, one of his best work-on-landscaping-crew-fishing-hanging-out buddies, was in a motorcycle accident, and has logged a bunch of time in intensive care. Police reports say he was going 110 mph in an urban neighborhood, definitely pushing the limits. He's lost one kidney and most of the function in the other, so it's a pretty sure bet he'll be on dialysis for life. That, in addition to multiple severely broken bones and other assorted internal injuries, ensures that Pat will always live with the repercussions of his reckless decision.

Amazingly, Pat showed up at my house last night. He was on crutches, moving really slowly, with the deliberate speech that gave away high doses of pain medication. Two weeks after nearly losing his life, he was out and about. Except for the crutches and the cast on his leg, you might not have known he was recently close to dead.

It's hard for a 19-year-old to understand the delicate balance of life. My son has had more than his fair share of examples this summer, along with an outright miracle. I hope he doesn't decide to test which category God has put him in.

Medicine is so unpredictable. One minute you're on life support, in intensive care, and then you're out on your own. I know some of this is the work of the insurance company, but the insurance companies wouldn't have much to work with if it wasn't for the miracle of medicine.