I arrived on November 8, 1975 around 5 pm, during a Mars retrograde. My lungs had only developed to that of a 6-month-old foetus; the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck and tied in a knot. My parents tell me that I was turning blue and not expected to survive. Sure enough, I spent the following 9 days in an incubator. I can only imagine how my parents dealt with the uncertainty of their firstborn child's survival. It truly breaks my heart to think of what they must have gone through. Good news, I managed to survive, and there must be a reason. My life has certainly had its share of ups and downs, and I believe I have learned many lessons that I would like to share with you. As I have stated, my first 9 days I was to spend alone in an incubator, fighting to survive. Mom says I grew up on antibiotics, and Dad was always shoving a pill down my throat for something, usually allergies. It was the beginning of my journey.