I have new readers and friends; and several wrote excellent comments this week. I’m thankful they did. So, I feel it’s important, after my recent posts “live from the hole,” which sounds like a great name for a concert album, that I restate something important:

Daddy & Daughter t-shirts because we're learning to play guitar together. This will be a great hospital shirt, too.

I am the luckiest person alive.

That is a true statement. Four-leaf clovers fly from my pockets when I walk. McGriddles fall from the sky. And just when I’ve thought this disease has had the upper hand in the past, some lucky solution revealed itself.

I have survived hemoptysis 39,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean, and a collapsed lung flying to Texas. I’m not a big fan of airplanes anymore. But I am here.

Every day that passes, even my darkest, I remember how lucky I am to be 47 with a disease that has taken so many others younger and brighter. I’m not sure about the grand logic in life that has allowed such a situation to happen; I feel it’s best not to question my luck, just be thankful that I have it.

I visit cysticfibrosis.com and am a proud member of sharktank.org. I read about the pain CF causes everyday.

I have blogging friends I care a great deal about, especially that crazy pink blogger waiting for new lungs. I hope she gets them soon. I’ve boxed up two McGriddles and some extra luck and sent them to her, and hope she remembers her old pals when she’s running marathons and shopping for new Jimmy Choo shoes in Paris.

Here on Father’s Day I sit typing, feeling lucky that I have a wonderful wife, who is stronger than I and who takes a body blow during each of my hospital stays. I’m not sure it’s the life she dreamed of. I have no idea what she was thinking when she signed up for this joy ride 25 years ago, which has been harder on her. She worries more than I do.

They insisted I get new slippers. Our Lab was playing, nipped me in the heel, and ripped the back out of one of them. Yes, they're gross, CG.

I also have a daughter, which never seemed possible for us earlier in life, but who now steals muffins from the kitchen and thinks I don’t notice. I’m a terrible muffin cop. Life is short, eat your muffins, I think. My wife will have a different and very verbal opinion when she gets back from her run.

I am lucky. I just want to make that clear.

And now that I’ve written this post and am happy someone will comment with “cue the sappy music,” I know Fox will have to post next and get this one out of his system, as he is truly in charge here.

Until then, I am taking the day off from worrying about my job, insurance, potential hemoptysis and everything else ahead of me. I’m going to spend a lot of time looking up at the sky today, not looking down.

Stay lucky and well.

(Message from Fox: I don’t believe what I’m reading. He never learns, this asshole Unknown. He never learns.  This lucky bastard – I’m so tired of hearing how Leprechauns hump his leg. I’ll be putting my paw up his . . .  Oh, never mind. ARGH. Hand me a Schlitz and the MacBook, Ginger, I have some unraveling to do.)