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ELON MUSK'S JAW-DROPPING PREDICTION: "DON'T GO INTO MEDICAL SCHOOL." ELON MUSK: "YES. POINTLESS." IN 3 YEARS (2029), OPTIMUS ROBOTS WILL BE BETTER SURGEONS THAN ANY HUMAN ON EARTH — AT SCALE. BY 4–5 YEARS? NOT EVEN CLOSE. THE BEST MEDICINE IN THE WORLD WILL BE FREE — BETTER THAN WHAT THE PRESIDENT GETS TODAY. THIS IS WILD.

We just spoke with the surgeon, his portion of the surgical procedure is complete- Cody is through the debridement of his leg/foot Cody needed artificial skin graft during the procedure after all. He also needs a second skin graft that may not happen for months as his body is still producing significant microclotting and he needs the immune therapy eculizumab / solaris to save his life. Pray for Cody please.

Today marks the last day, 4 years ago, that I got to hug Aubrynn Grundy. We picked her up at 9:41 a.m. in Niagara Falls, New York. She napped in the front seat on the drive home so she could lean back comfortably. She didn’t have a fever, but her skin felt cold to the touch. When we got back into town, we stopped at Meijer to pick up a cake for Finn. July 19th was his 3rd birthday. We wanted to celebrate even though none of us had slept all night. It was around 6:30 p.m. when Aubs said she wanted to stay in the car while we ran in. We grabbed what we needed, drove the ten minutes home, lit Finn’s candle, and sang him happy birthday. Aubrynn sat at the table with us, smiling, before she said she wanted to go lay down. I stayed up cleaning. Adam was exhausted from the 2 a.m. drive to New York and had already gone to bed. Around 8 p.m., Aubrynn got up, grabbed my Epsom salts, and started a hot bath. When she was done, we made soup and sat in the living room, chatting about her trip. She told me how expensive Boston was and that Salem, Massachusetts, was one of her favorite places. After a few bites of soup, she said, “I think that’s all I can eat right now.” I took her dish and told her I was going to lay down too since Finn would be up early and I needed to get ready for his birthday party on the 22nd. She went to her room, and I went to mine. I wish so badly I had stayed up with her just a little longer. I wish I had hugged her tighter, breathed her in, told her how much I loved her and how glad I was that she was home. I wish I had asked if she wanted me to lay with her. This new life is haunting. It is terrifying. It is crippling. It hurts to wake up. It hurts to do new things. It hurts to visit places we went or places we planned to go. It kills me to see her photos, to think of her smile, to remember how healthy she was before the Covid vaccine. If I could change one thing, it would be putting my foot down and telling her no, she couldn’t go on that trip. We could have planned a summer vacation instead. Living with that guilt is killing me a little more every day. I miss my child. I long for her voice, her smile, and the comfort of just feeling her presence when she walked into a room.