It's been a long time ... 5 months or so since I sat to think/write about Playing in the Last Quarter. When I began these notes, I saw some humor in the word "Last" ... a play on maybe Football: "Down by 15 the home team still can pull it out ... it has before ... just two touchdowns, one with a two point conversion!" .... Yeah, yeah.

This Game has an expected -- even if not scheduled -- end. Frankly, the past year has been pretty good in terms of my health. Haven't had an arrhythmia in 11 months ... though my cardiologists ball me out about not being willing to take all the meds I was taking when I was out of Normal Cardiac Sinus Rhythm half the time. They seem to think that I come to hear what I should do, rather than to consult with them on my options. When I asked for where his recommendation was supported in the literature, he told me I could go find it. I suppose I heard: "You can go fuck yourself."

Doctors in the late 20th-early 21st Century are an interesting lot. I was kicked out of one practice for asking for my copay back so that I could go see one of my own patients at the time of their appointment. Even though the Doctor was late for >1.5 hours now for the second time, the receptionist explained that since I wasn't keeping my "appointment," I was not entitled to my copay. I initially pointed out quietly that an appointment was a meeting at an appointed time and I had kept my appointment. She refused. I told her I was from Brooklyn, originally, and would stand on one of the waiting room tables and make a wondrous scene. She gave me my check back and, a week later, my PCP got a note saying that I wasn't welcome in her practice.

Any case, it's not just my health that plays out in the last quarter. Children are aging and I have four grandkids with serious illnesses. My wife who was young in 1965 when we married is no longer young. And I'm an orphan. It's not guaranteed that I outlive the current insanity in Washington, DC ... and that gets to me. My wife's dear friend, Adelaide, who was Emeritus at UPenn had wanted to see the end of der Shrub ... der Kleine Bush. My sweet 88 year old friend used to sign-off on her emails to me: Fuck Bush. Hungarian-Italian celebrating firecracker that she was. Seeing Obama sworn in would have meant the World to her. Seeing Sen. Klobuchar's inauguration would mean that to me, too.

All this? Still ... What a blessing to be given the opportunity to paint on my own canvas ... even if the canvas has been of unknown proportions ... Who could not have gratitude for having lived?