Letter 3

Where risk fits in

It was dark, thank goodness. I couldn’t see the ground. A blackened veil shrouded the fact that there were neither ropes nor guard rails. Yet we had made it to the top of the water tower we had parked near.

Adrenaline was high and all I could think was that I was not backing down. I was going to do this. Sheer will, stubbornness, stupidity? moved my hands up one rusty ladder rung to the other. Three of the guys stayed below, one of them providing me one last out: “you don’t have to do this.” But I was 19 and fueled by youthful mischief and a desire to impress someone there. The risk of falling several dozen feet from an insecure ladder and platform, the risk of being arrested for trespassing, was beyond comprehension as we were painfully bored in our small hometown on a hot summer night and were determined to make our own adventure.

Risk. I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently. Isn’t it how we navigate our days? Relationship risk? Career risk? Financial risk? Not only our own risk, but others’ too, as we drive literally and figuratively through our communities.

By definition, risk is the “exposure or chance of injury or loss, a hazard of a dangerous chance.”

Risk was a regular topic in our household during the Pandemic. “But (enter name here) is going? Why can’t we?” One of my children would inquire. “Everyone has their own set of risks based on their family’s health and outlook” would be the reply, but in a much more child-friendly way, trying not to pass judgement with every painful decision that left another blank spot on the calendar. My kids were 10 and 8 at the time but we were continually talking about underlying health conditions, how viruses work (particularly airborne viruses) and how what we knew about Covid was continually changing. Everyone calculated their risk differently - mask, no mask, stay at home. Even among the choices were levels of risk – cloth mask verses N95, 15-minutes of exposed time, etc.. Married to a scientist makes these conversations even more detailed. “I only deal in fact” he would say. There was only what we know and what we don’t know - not what would possibly happen. Health isn’t something to gamble on hearsay and anecdote was the conclusion

.The risk meter resets entirely upon learning one is going to be a parent. Scanning of labels, ingesting of vitamins replaces a haphazard whim of knocking back a shot of whiskey in celebration, or just for kicks. “Defensive driving” is now my mantra. Hangovers are no longer worth it. I admire others who can take a more tempered approach. I was always in awe of Hilaree Nelson’s balancing act of mountaineering and motherhood, yet that risk took her life.

Monday night I returned from a yoga class to find a quiet house. The NFL had suspended its Monday Night game between the Bills and Bengals because Damar Hamlin collapsed in cardiac arrest on the field. Since I am in nursing school we started talking about what had happened. The few times I have performed CPR in the ICU were different. They were almost expected. But a young top-class athlete in prime health? - I had no answers. My son, who is built for marathons, knowingly glanced at me in an understanding of why I will not allow him to play football. The Boston University CTE report weighs on my mind and I often have to leave the room when there is a violent tackle if a Chiefs game is on. I don’t talk about this inner turmoil much in Kansas City, where the city and surrounding area plans its days around Chiefs games. We tell ourselves that everyone involved understands the risk.

I wish I had better answers. I hope you can find the experiences that help you to guzzle from Life’s water bottle. Where you take a chance on telling someone you care. Where you dare to try something different, something you are not very good at, something that leaves you laughing with a funny “failed” story to spin.

I am going to attempt to take every chance while continually weighing the risks. Risks we can manage. Chances are gifts.

Warmly,

Traci