Perhaps it will be the charm.
Once again on Friday I shall venture forth into the woods to seek out the notorious crasher of cars, Odocoileus virginianus, or as he is otherwise known, the North American Hoofed Rat. If he should be found his 00 buckshot pierced flesh will adorn my freezer and his antlers shall adorn my walls.
I shall dedicate this hunt to my younger brother (notice I didn't say little, he hasn't been my little brother since he was 16) who has been laid low by a crushing self-inflicted blow on the noggin resulting in a couple of crushed vertebrae in his neck (PSA - parking a 4WD pickup under an awning meant for a Mustang doesn't leave much headroom, and his normal mode of dismounting - stepping out onto the running board before stepping down on the ground - ate that up pretty quickly).
He's been operated on and doing fine, but is forbidden by his attending physician to venture forth into what little woods Iowa offers for himself. This is a fate worse than death to a dedicated deer hunter of his caliber (see what I did there? I crack me up, chortle chortle), but he should be OK for the fishing season.
Stay strong brother, and wish me luck.