I remember...
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| That's Peter all the way to the left |
…my mother telling me that once when he
was little, my Uncle Peter, who lived to the age of 86, was run over by a car.
They took him to the hospital and didn’t have much hope for him. On his rounds in the ward, a doctor, not my
uncle’s, heard his loud, labored breathing and questioned one of the nurses who
told him the little boy was dying. Evidently, from what else she told him, he
knew just what to do: he went in grabbed each side of my uncle’s chest and
pushed in. That did it – the ribs sprang back out and he could breathe properly
again. Amazing!
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