Birthday and "get well" greetings have been coming in steadily in all sorts of forms. 
So many of the residents here at Trinity Terrace took time to place a card in our in-house mailbox or slide it under our door, and one attached her note to a supply of ... toilet paper.
Nice to have friends from all over the world. Nice of them to take a few seconds to acknowledge the birthday, and to offer good wishes.
I am, as the headline says, happy to be here. Because it could have been different.
It is 27 days past open-heart surgery -- a triple bypass -- and I am on the mend. My chest is still sore to the touch, my right leg -- from which the doctors "harvested" the veins to place in my heart -- is almost rid of the deep-purple bruising and even the knots that were near the incision on the inside of my knee are not as troublesome as they were.
We are walking a little, but not quickly, several times a day; I am eating well; my roommate of 43 years is taking good care of me with a watchful eye; I can read; I can write; and I can -- at some peril -- watch the news on TV.
Began cardiac rehab at the hospital Monday morning, the first of at least 12 45-minute sessions and maybe as many as 36 sessions.
Felt good, actually, to walk on a short path for six minutes, use an elliptical machine (but without pressuring my healing sternum), to walk on a treadmill, and ride a stationary bicycle. All of it at a comfortable pace. Worked up a little sweat, which I needed to, and I look forward to increasing the efforts.
But I vow not to push too hard too soon. Pushing too hard on long walks darned near cost me the ballgame.
(Speaking of ballgames ... I repeat for those who have missed my posts on Facebook or e-mails, I don't care if there is major-league baseball this year or not. Let the players' union and the owners/commissioner's office battle over the billions of dollars and spare me the details.
I can tell you that it's been a lot easier on my broken heart not to have to worry about my ballclub every day for 2 1/2 months, and I am not ready to resume that anxiety-filled habit. We'll consider football season when -- if -- it arrives.)
Where was I? Oh, the birthday.
If you ever have been hospitalized -- and if you haven't, bless you -- you know how many times you have to provide your name and birthdate. So, how in the heck, do you forget those? Had eight days worth of it, and just because, I tried to fake out the nurses at times. (It never works.)
The birthday cards began arriving three days ago. Our around-the-corner neighbor, Dr. Lamar Smith, delivered in person -- and left me a shiny (fake) Lincoln penny because he didn't want to leave me his real car.
Grandson Eli, with LSU in mind I think, drew me a tiger -- painted Tennessee orange. Granddaughter Josie drew her infamous alter-ego character, "CJ" (Cartoon Josie), delivering a balloon and birthday cake.
Our next-door neighbor Harriette brought this hat (left).
I am finding birthday messages in several forms -- and posts -- on Facebook. Didn't realize there was a "birthday story" site until about 30 minutes ago.
There already have been phone calls from friends and family, and I expect there will be more before the day is finished. A special call came from cousin Phillip in Jerusalem; that was a first. Quite a thrill.
And, of course, the most special Facebook messages and cards came from Beatrice and Rachel, who are quite good at those kinds of gifts.
I am wearing my new gray T-shirt with "OPA" on the front because, to my grandkids, that's who I am.
Strange as it might sound, I am not one to relish my birthday nor the attention that comes with it. But as several people have mentioned, this was a birthday that several weeks ago we weren't certain I was going to see.
But it's been a good day, a fun day.
So, I thank you all, and hopefully I will be around for many more of these.
