Two years. Yes, it has been two whole years since my stroke. People have—accidentally, of course—tried to kill me. There was, very early on, the trach incident. I was told that someone responsible for my tracheostomy left the cap on the device. Oopsies. I guess that's a no-no if the patient is supposed to breathe. Then there was the time when the aide left a lemon swab in my mouth. I remember that situation very well. Gladly, I swallowed it whole instead of choking. Equally as debilitating, though not deadly, was the time my identity was stolen. An aide, who mysteriously didn't bother to call in or show up the next day. I heard she went in to pick up her check and left with it...and a lady's purse. It's funny now, though not then. I'm home now and nothing bad has happened. And I'm still here. I'm still here.