Statistics
I used to like to think about statistics. Statistics made me feel safe. If something was "statistically unlikely" it meant I really didn't have to worry about it all that much.
For instance, our family was in a serious car accident when Alan was about 8 years old. My dad was driving, my mom, my sister, Alan, and I were driving back from my grandmother's house after Thanksgiving dinner. A driver ran a stop sign and we hit each other going 65 miles an hour. The car was totaled, my mom and sister were hospitalized, I had a back injury and Alan was unhurt. So, statistically speaking, I would probably never be in another accident. Check that off the list.
Getting on a airplane never bothered me much. After all, it was much more likely that I would be seriously hurt or killed in a car crash than in a plane accident. And, considering the fact I'd already been involved in a car crash I was statistically unlikely to be in a plane crash. Check that off the list.
Statistics began to be less comforting when my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Statistically, he would only live a few months. He fought for over three years. I was happy statistics were wrong.
Alan came down with strep pneumonia several years ago, and was in ICU on a ventilator for 16 days. He survived and made a full recovery. So, statistically, he would never have a brush with death again.
Huntington's disease? A 50/50 shot. And considering the above mentioned brush with death, it seemed statistically unlikely.
But statistics can't be counted on, as I know now. People and statistics are not one and the same. And that's perhaps the biggest reason to hope for more days of good times with Alan.
For instance, our family was in a serious car accident when Alan was about 8 years old. My dad was driving, my mom, my sister, Alan, and I were driving back from my grandmother's house after Thanksgiving dinner. A driver ran a stop sign and we hit each other going 65 miles an hour. The car was totaled, my mom and sister were hospitalized, I had a back injury and Alan was unhurt. So, statistically speaking, I would probably never be in another accident. Check that off the list.
Getting on a airplane never bothered me much. After all, it was much more likely that I would be seriously hurt or killed in a car crash than in a plane accident. And, considering the fact I'd already been involved in a car crash I was statistically unlikely to be in a plane crash. Check that off the list.
Statistics began to be less comforting when my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Statistically, he would only live a few months. He fought for over three years. I was happy statistics were wrong.
Alan came down with strep pneumonia several years ago, and was in ICU on a ventilator for 16 days. He survived and made a full recovery. So, statistically, he would never have a brush with death again.
Huntington's disease? A 50/50 shot. And considering the above mentioned brush with death, it seemed statistically unlikely.
But statistics can't be counted on, as I know now. People and statistics are not one and the same. And that's perhaps the biggest reason to hope for more days of good times with Alan.
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