Jonny Gomes could spend the next two months obsessing about the number of at-bats he will get this season or worrying about how he might fit in as the Red Sox’ new left fielder.

But he’d rather just enjoy being alive.

After all, Gomes really should be dead. If it wasn’t the car crash in high school, the one that killed his best friend and left him with only a few scrapes, surely it would have been the heart attack at age 22 that had doctors at a hospital in Petaluma, Calif., standing by with the paddles that you see in emergency-room dramas.

Yet there was Gomes, 10 years later, bursting through the doors of the Red Sox spring training clubhouse yesterday and wasting no time living up to his gregarious reputation by back-slapping and yakking with his new teammates.

“I don’t take life for granted,” said Gomes, his scraggly beard and tattooed forearms giving him the appearance of a professional wrestler. “Every single day is like icing on the cake. My wife jokes all the time that she’s never seen me hit the snooze button. Literally, after the heart attack, I’d hear that alarm and be like, ‘Yes, I get another one.’ I’m living proof that every single day is lucky.”

Some more than others.

Growing up, the luckiest days were when Gomes could sleep in his own bed. Raised by a single mother who worked nights as a cashier, Gomes moved around a lot. His family didn’t have much money, and for a short time, he and his older brother stayed at friends’ houses while their mother lived in a homeless shelter and scraped together enough cash to get another place of their own.