I briefly entertained the idea of becoming a statistics minor is college. It was really only because my professor suggested it and said he would mentor me; ...oh, what could have been... (smirk).
Silly me! I thought I could put those darned interpreted numbers behind me. But enter the world of medical patient and you can not. In fact, in emotion, in reality, you can not. In diagnostics, in treatment, in prevention, you can not.
So, what does a 25 year old girl with a 90/10 chance of cancer do with herself in the meantime? Surprisingly, she gains a bit of a bounce in her step. After all, something could actually be wrong!, like treatably wrong. And her sense of humor rebounds a bit. At some point ridiculous is funny. She makes jokes with the doctor that is sticking a huge biopsy needle in her neck about ruining her new shirt from Anthropologie. (They even wager a bet and the tech wins a soda). She laughs out loud when she finds out the biopsy is inconclusive and the chance of the matter still remains: 90/10.
Next up? Surgery: knife to neck. But not until after Thanksgiving; load me up with some stuffing and pecan pie. And, yes, I will have another glass of wine. Doesn't it have anti-oxidants?
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