Got a call from Mom last night with some rather disturbing news: one of my cousins was taken to the hospital after experiencing what "really felt like" a heart attack.

Things seem to be okay now. They're running a whole bunch of tests and he's already complaining about how bored he is. Apparently they don't have online poker tournaments in Ontario hospitals yet, the losers.

Then it dawned on me that my "creepy little cousin" wasn't a 16-year-old anymore; he's a grown man. Headed into the back half of his 30's with a wife, mortgage, two psychotic cats and a ton of other stuff -- including what appears to be a heart problem.

This terrifies me, and not just because he'd make a great addition to my Deal Or No Deal support team.

I mean, he's the youngest one on my father's side of the family. The baby that got into so much trouble in his teens that anything I had done in previous years paled in comparison -- including the dying-hair-black debacle of 1985.

He'll be okay, I'm sure, but it does make me stop and think about the people I haven't seen, spoken to or emailed in a while...