Actuarial Tables

Well, it was bound to happen. There are a few items in one's life that the actuarial tables are designed to predict: you have a 1 in 2 chance of being involved in an auto accident in your lifetime; you have a 1 in 9 chance of your house catching fire; you have a 1 in 22 chance of having your car stolen; etc. (These are not 'real' actuarial values; they're merely illustrations. Those who know me also know I've endured all three before reaching 35 so, perhaps, going forward, I should be exempt from all three. After all, one can wish.)

These garden variety chances are insignificant to the mordant ones: for example, what is the chance your child will survive to adulthood? (These are the ones that occupy the dusty corners of my mind and refuse to let go. They return, like wicked migratory waterfowl, to your mind over and over again just as your brain shuts down for sleep.) This actuarial table, which I'm sure exists, is the bane of my existence. Slowly, but surely, one crosses the threshold of potentially catastrophic events in the life of your child and, hopefully, you emerge, relatively unscathed, on the other side. (But for the grace of God -- thank you.)

Yet another of these milestones was passed this weekend: child choking on food. Not the 'cough, cough' type, mind you, but the full monty. Fortunately, I reacted with less volatility than usual, and the offending pickle (yet another reason to not eat at McDonald's) was quickly thrown in the trash can. (Although, I did look at it for quite some time afterwards, in amazement and fear. A pickle!) The boy is fine and, more importantly, for my mind's sake, I can cross another actuarial item off the list. God help me.

His life; more precious
Than I consider mine. And,
To think; a pickle!