Monday, January 17, 2011

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

Close doesn't count, except in horseshoes and hand grenades. 
I'm not sure who said that first, but I know that it's one of the things my father repeated to me over and over again throughout my childhood. 

Trying is great, the effort worthwhile, but if you miss your mark even just by a little, sometimes you still lose. 

And today he is close.  But close isn't good enough.

I am frustrated.  Frustrated because I have too much background in medical research.  I am too aware of margins of error and confidence intervals.  I know about things like sensitivity and specificity.  I know that tests aren't always accurate. 

And I know that cutoffs are arbitrary. 

He's close to needing a transfusion, but not close enough.  The cutoff?  Below 10.0.  His current red blood cell count?  10.0.  One tenth of a point and he'd be eligible.

I am frustrated.

And he is sick.  But not sick enough.

I loathe the fact that we live in a country of reactive medicine.  We wait until there is a big giant problem before we admit that there is one at all.  God forbid we head anything off at the pass.

Stay strong, Daddy. 

I love you.


  1. Oh Kelly... so infuriating! Thinking of you and praying for your dad...

  2. I don't know if this will ever change, but I pray it does for our children.
    I wish I could take this away from your family. Until then, I continue to pray as well. And be mad. I flipping am.


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