“Put your foot back on the cliff and step away from the edge,” said on April 4, 2012, by the newest of our attending physicians to my son, Josh. Josh had just told the doctor that he felt like he was on the rim of a cliff, with one foot hanging over the edge. It was obvious Josh’s determination to keep fighting was what was hanging on that cliff, teetering all too close to the edge. As the doctor got up to leave Josh’s hospital room that day, Josh mustered every bit of energy he had, fought the pain he was feeling in his legs, and stood up to shake the doctor’s hand. The doctor’s pronouncement gave us all hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be some answers among the myriad of doctors that had paraded through Josh’s hospital room. On that day in the little notebook that had become my own daily log regarding Josh’s medical condition, I wrote, “Thank God for this doctor.” This is not a story, bit by bit, of detailed medical jargon or descriptions. It is not meant to cast doubt on individual doctors, decisions made or not made, the medical profession, or military hospitals. It is simply a story of courage. Courage, “the ability to face danger, difficulty, uncertainty, or pain without being overcome by fear or being deflected from a chosen course of action.” Bravery.