Today, this morning at least, is the first day I've been at work since having two stents placed in my heart a week ago last Saturday. (I did not say 'the first day I'm working' because so many people have so many interpretations on that gerund it hurts my feelings to listen to all of them).
I came across on line a wonderful poem, of sorts, from Ogden Nash, an overlooked but marvelous writer of my father's generation who was a hopelessly-devoted Baltimore Colts (yes, you read that correctly) football fan whom I imagine had his own moment on the way to Damascus which served as the incentive for him to offer, No Doctor's Today, Thank You.
In the last week, thanks in part to Nash's words, I've decided being grateful for being alive is probably not enough-and I'm adding his "This is My Euphorian Day" to my mental shopping basket of daily aspirations.
I'm bringing Nash up, because April is National Poetry Month, and I'm thinking that without my having told you that, you could have gone the entire rest of the month not knowing and that will never do. "I will tame me a carabou and bedeck it with marabou."