I am returning home from a long journey. No, not the one that starts with the first step and goes a thousand miles, but one of physical and emotional peaks and valleys, euphoric highs and devastating lows.

Folks my age (translation: old) love to describe, in minute detail, their ailments. I am old too, but we'll make this simple. One paragraph, 32 words.

Knee surgery in September to repair torn tendon after my fall. Tendon did not heal. Second surgery in November, implanting an artificial tendon. Knee fine. Serious post-op complications. Kidney failure.

As I lay at the bottom of the proverbial Grand Canyon of life, fully convinced that I no longer would be going home, five doctors at Centennial Medical Center pulled, pushed and dragged me up the craggy sides to the top.

And when then the next hand in the game of life was dealt, I came up aces. I was given a second chance. I remember holding on to Marge, my wife, crying like a child.

Literally, I am home. Figuratively I'm still negotiating the winding road ahead, carefully climbing each hill, avoiding ditches at all costs.

My friends at Brookshire's Pharmacy know well what I went through. With each new bottle of pills that will help me round the next curve, Marge gets the same message from the staff: "We're praying for Ken."

I've spent many sleepless nights asking, "Why?" Not why all this happened, but why I received a second chance. But there is never an answer. All I know is that I received a wonderful gift, not to be squandered, but treasured and put to good use.

Ken Gaidziunas is a staff writer for the Van Alstyne Leader and The Anna-Melissa Tribune.