It occurs to me that I say this quite a bit. It applies to a lot of things in my world—living in an area where natural disasters are a way of life, my van stands gassed up and ready to roll with dog crates, blankets, extra water, cleaning supplies, a change of clothes and even a camp stove and some canned goods. I took a disaster preparedness class at a Wilderness Medicine Conference a few years ago and the Air Force Survival instructor scared me half to death. He said, in ominous tones, “You just NEVER know when you might become lost in the wilderness!” Immediately after the lecture, I went out to the exhibit hall and was overwhelmed by the sheer volume (not to mention the genius) of modern survival gear. Faced with such choices, I bought a large orange plastic whistle, which I still have tucked behind the driver’s seat of my Suburban. Just in case. I do know how to whistle!
I say this to my patients a lot: Expect the best but prepare for the worst! I’m a firm believer in dotting the “I’s” and crossing the “T’s”. I’m superstitious (and believe me, I hate to admit it!). I think that the best way to prevent something terrible from happening is to plan for it. And the best way to make it happen is to ignore the possibility. I am a worrier. I like to have plans. Cancer can be a huge wake up call, just like a major heart attack or a bad car accident. Carpe diem all you want, but PLEASE make sure the emergency number on your registration form is filled in, your will is completed, and your lawyer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that your husband’s new wife is NOT going to get your jewelry!
Sometimes I think I might go a bit too far. Tonight, I listened to my daughter the medical student relate a story of a fourth year resident in Urology (why women choose to become penis doctors, I’ll never know but I’ll continue) whose fellow residents and attendings turned on her after she became pregnant and had a child during her residency training, making her so miserable that she dropped out of the program. My daughter (have I mentioned she is a medical student?) was very concerned that by the time she finishes her residency training, the proverbial biologic clock may have tick tocked its way down. In my most commanding voice, I said, “Expect the best, but prepare for the worst!” She said, “What do you mean?” I said, “You know, maybe by the time you’re done with your residency, you could take a month off, and, well, harvest your EGGS!”
You could have heard a pin drop. Could someone please hand me a shovel so I can dig myself a hole?
LMAO…you have a wonderful way with words.