Before you stuff yourself with stuffing and pass out on the couch this Thursday, take a few moments to really consider the many things for which you should give thanks. If you do not have time to do so before post-prandial stupor sets in and the dog eats the custard pie falling from your sleepy grasp you can crib from my list of things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving:

. Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, once again and always. Recent historical evidence suggests that if there had been a Dunkin’ Donuts in England the Pilgrims would never have left, since all they were really looking for when they set sail was a good cup of Joe;

. that as I drove to work in the emergency department the other night the only deadly thing I worried might jump out in front of me was a moose.

I did not worry about mines, or that the truck parked beside the road could be packed with explosives, or that the woods might hide someone with a rocket-propelled grenade. If we really appreciated the difference between our jobs and those of our soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, or between our country and some of the world’s hell holes, we would not only give thanks but would weep with relief;

. my dog which, no matter how much I screw up, is dumb enough to think I am a prince among men. This may simply be due to the fact that I occasionally come home with Dunkin’ Donuts Munchkins for her, but I choose to think otherwise;

. that my daughters, who are 16 and 19, still tell me they love me at the end of the day, and I know they mean it, no matter how flawed I have been as a father;

. that someone somewhere keeps improving power tools so there is always an upgrade I really have to have;

. the moment when the airway of a patient going down the drain comes into view through the laryngoscope and the breathing tube slips into place, so lifesaving oxygen can be delivered to starving lungs. At that moment I can start to breathe again too;

. that teenagers fill our homes and lives with youth, and chaos and chatter. They drive us crazy, hate us one minute and love us the next, but without them life’s stew would be a lot less spicy. Mine are funny and bright and wonderful, and when they no longer live in our home I am going to look into renting some more;

. college tuition, to remind me how much a good education is worth, and how much a good kid is worth;

. leaders who admit it when they made a mistake. I don’t need dancing, I don’t need waffling, and I don’t need perfection. I just need a leader who will stand up to a hail of political lead and admit it when they screwed up;

. the road home, and that it takes me through rural Maine. There the steam rises from horses in the morning pasture, fog sits in the valleys so hills look like emerald islands in a sea of white, people pull off the road to chat with neighbors, and I can buy fresh strawberries from a roadside stand;

. that a sick patient will look into my eyes when I tell them they will get better and believe me;

. that a dying patient will look into my eyes when I tell them I will take care of them and believe me;

. that fresh snow on a bright morning looks as though tiny diamonds fell among the flakes and that, for just a moment, the world looks magical;

. snowblowers, the more horse-power the better;

. a daughter who comes home happily for the holidays, even when she has a boyfriend in tow;

. that eagles soaring over the Penobscot River give me a thrill every time I see them, and that hundreds of years ago in the same spot some Native American probably saw and felt the same thing;

. that if I call 911 there is someone on the other end of the phone who wants to help me;

. that nursing homes and their staffs exist, and that sons and daughters who take care of elderly parents in their home exist, because it takes something extraordinary and special to provide tender care to the old and infirm;

. that the New England Patriots are 9 and 2;

. that there is always next year;

. the feeling of satisfied fatigue that comes after a hard workout;

. that there is Tylenol for the feeling of pain that comes the morning after a hard workout;

. the first time your child shrugs off a problem that always used to cause a crisis;

. that my daughters are so cool they almost never wear makeup;

. that there are people in my life who care enough about me to tell me when I am putting one of life’s wheels in a ditch, and that I usually listen to them. Among them are my wife, my children, a few key friends, and my editors at the Bangor Daily News and the Journal Inquirer;

. that my wife has taught me if I need to sniff a shirt to tell whether it is clean enough to wear again, it isn’t;

. that she is not always around when I dress;

. Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major,” and Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run”;

. National Public Radio’s “All Things Considered” news program – if you are not listening you are driving through life without headlights;

. the haunting, unforgettable sound of “Amazing Grace” played on bagpipes at the funerals of soldiers and police officers and firemen and others who die on our behalf, because we should be haunted unforgettably by the echo of their passing.

Erik Steele, D.O. is a physician in Bangor, an administrator at Eastern Maine Medical Center, and is on the staff of several hospital emergency rooms in the region.