Seconds in lore are splendid. We've heard that love is better the second time around, factory seconds are almost as good as factory firsts and everyone deserves a second chance, but a lot of heartache, anxiety and brushes with death have been the result of giving people a second thwack at the piñata.
I'm not sure which frightened me more -- the embolism itself, or the helpful nurse who asked me if I had a will and an advance health care directive. Regardless, I feel I've been given a tremendous gift, and I don't want to waste it. As soon as I can take a deep breath again, I intend to shout that from a rooftop.