I forgot something last month. (Sometimes I think every post by me should be started that way, with "month" being a variable.) I was seeing my doctor, only my regular doctor was on vacation, so I was seeing a substitute doctor. He was voluble, which was nice. When he was getting up to speed on my stroke, he whistled. "Jeez," he said, "your bleed was two by two by two a half inches. You should be dead." He looked at me. "I've seen some who had bleeds that big and survived, but not walking and talking. You are lucky."
I'm not used to being called lucky in regard to my stroke, but I guess I am.
We are the lucky ones, kiddo.