It is past midnight on a full moon Friday. My 19-year-old son Maxim drove me to the University of Washington Medical Center ER about an hour ago. We are waiting in the lobby for a doctor after the nurse’s initial intake. I am still covered in ECG sticky electrodes and have a blood pressure cuff on my arm. My mind is racing as I contemplate the most important things to tell my son while I still can think. Yet, the act of thinking requires effort. Many people are waiting for their turn at this late hour. The full moon is allegedly a peak time for accidents and emergencies, and it shows.