If you ever have a chance at being one in a million, choose wisely.
But then again you may not be given the opportunity to choose at all.
I had a tumor on my ankle, it was one in a million. A year later two more tumors took its place.
Are they two in a million?
Does that make me lucky enough to say that my tumors were three in a million?
Or is each one its own seperate occurance which would bring us back to one in a million again?
I have to look at the bright side and consider that when something such as a tumor is one in a million, it’s probably looking to conquer everything in its way.
In my case it only tore through an ankle and left it hollow and as thin as an eggshell.
The other good news is that they make cement to fill the empty spaces with.
The bad news is that I can no longer chase down a frisbee or a hockey puck. I can’t jump off the third step of the porch.
But I can watch my kids graduate high school and college (if they decide that’s what they want to do).
Or I can watch them fix my car or air conditioning system (if they decide that’s what they want to do).
I can ride a hundred miles on a bike with them if you want to. I just can’t run a 5k (not that I would have).
Chances are that the doctor that missed the diagnosis won’t be held responsible for missing it.
But the hospitals and surgeons and techs and specialists all charge my insurance company the same amount for a missed tumor.
I guess one in a million tumors don’t look like 400,000 in a million tumors.
The co-pay amounts and extra charges still get mailed to my house and the recordings that ask for payment regarding the missed tumors are the same recordings that ask to be paid for the other tumors that did not get missed.
The short-term disability paperwork doesn’t care if my tumor is rare or special. It just won’t let me scribble my name at the bottom of it.
So even if you are one in a million, you won’t get paid if you can’t make it in to work.
There must be some logic behind that decision although I’ve yet to understand it.
I’m sure an underwriter would be able to explain it. Just as an undertaker would know why you should be buried in a beautiful, airtight, oak coffin.
Of course many of us are probably better prepared to buy a coffin than we are to pay our bills if we cannot work.
I actually don’t care if I’m buried in an oak box or a Styrofoam box. Except the Styrofoam box would probably attract protesters to the funeral.
Not having a paycheck only attracts phone calls from people that get paid to tell you what you already know.
Nothing is more annoying than being told over and over and over again what you already know.
I know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. I go to bed every night repeating it to myself.
It’s OK to tell yourself over and over again something that you already know.
I don’t know about everything but I know about ankle tumors now.
Some doctors wouldn’t know a tumor if it bit them on the… umm… ankle.