Good morning. I'm here today to talk about the things that stick with you. Sounds, sights, smells. You hear, see, catch a whiff of any of these things and you are overcome with memories and emotions. Some of you already know about this, already have your own trigger. Well, this is mine [place necklace on podium].

As an emergency response technician for twenty three years, I have seen all kinds of gruesome cases. A man, chopping firewood gets the axe stuck in his leg. A toddler uses drain cleaner as an afternoon snack. A teenager plays chicken in the street with his friends and cracks his head open. All of these things were horrific, but in my line of work you learn to numb yourself, pretend it's not that bad. Because if you dont, you lose it. And we can't afford to lose it. We are the ones in charge of finding it; for all those people.

Daniel Carter was 19 years old when he walked into my emergency room. No wheelchair, no gurney, just a smile that stretched from one ear to another. He walked towards the front desk, following an anxious couple that identified themselves as his parents. They were frantic. They made it to the front desk and attempted to explain the situation, but adrenaline and fear made their words run together. The secretary finally deciphered enough to realize that Daniel's high fever and distended abdomen were the result of a liver transplant weeks earlier. Daniel's body had realized that the liver was not his own and had started to attack it. The nurses convinced him to get in a wheelchair and brought him back to the room where I would be his primary aid. We settled him in, got him snack, turned on a movie, but i could tell that he wasn't paying attention. Daniel was certain of something that his parents were not. He was going to die. He sent his parents out of the room, saying that he needed to speak with me alone. They started to object, but a pleading look from their son silenced them. I shut the door and turned around to find Daniel pulling something out of his shirt. It was a necklace. This, necklace. He looked at it for a moment, then turned to me and said "you know, this necklace has brought me years of good luck. I found it on the beach when i was eight. That same day I won my first tball game." He pointed at his abdomen and laughed. "It looks like I've about used it all up, huh?" His smile faded and he held out the necklace. "Even though it's not so good anymore, would you hold onto it for me? Maybe it just needs to recharge. I'm not the kind of guy to wait around for things." Daniel died that night. I had known him for less that a day, but he had touched me in a way that no one ever had, or quite probably ever will. This necklace "charged up" pretty fast I guess--i got promoted, got married, and had a beautiful baby boy. My son is four now. And when he's older, I'll tell him about how he came to be named Daniel. I Had thought about giving this to him on his 18th birthday, but...(puts on necklace) I'm not the kind of girl to wait around for things.