Even when crisis strikes as close to home as a sibling, (perhaps, more inspiring), a poem leaps forth.

The Jury Is Still Out

I'm a little concerned
About the old coot,
His RCA occlusion
Nearly gave him the boot,
But that isn't all
He's not out of the woods,
He has a tight LAD
Compromising the goods.

An acute MI
After a great game of squash,
The jury is still out
Who won? 'Twas a wash,
For the gentleman in question
On court forty-two,
'Tis not the time to argue
Because it could have been you.

Despite the unexpected nature
Of the outcome or the score,
Our favorite plucky protagonist
Welcomes conflict, bring on more,
He's an honest, fiery competitor
Renowned at the D-A-C,
Watch-out; he's already making claims
"Convalescence, ain't for me".

His family, walks on gilded splinters
Nervous-Nellie's, in their right,
Poppa, had a heart-attack
A life-threatening, kind of fright,
And though he looks good on the surface
Who knows, what lies beneath,
They would rather, chuck the Squash games
To avoid,"Will and Last Bequeath".

It takes a while for the novelty
To wear, in this situation,
But it's an everyday occurrence
In the American heart-attack nation,
The Cardiology science
Is so advanced, to save your life,
But there's not a big enough Valium
To calm the kids and wife.

Fibril_late;
3/15/09

(* D-A-C; A Health Club)