When I broke my neck at the end of the summer in 1993, little did I know what I was in for in the long upcoming cold season. I soon discovered by October that my body was far from what it used to be when it came to its ability to regulate temperatures. I was screwed. No matter what I did to compensate for my constant coldness – turtlenecks, space heaters, heated blankets – nothing made me feel the blessedness of body warmth again. It was a perpetual Artic Hell. Fast-forward four years later at the Courage Center (I eventually moved into this independent living facility to learn how to live on my own), and I…