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Risk Revisited
September 29, 2006
OK, so I'm obsessing about risk again. Or still. Maybe it's not an obsession at all. Maybe it's just an ongoing exploration of an essential issue.
Wednesday, an idyllic early fall late afternoon, I went trail riding in the state forest. I encountered two women riding without helmets, which is pretty unusual around here, where safety- and health-consciousness go hand in hand and get pretty feisty when you make faces at them. Then on the way home I stopped by to say hi to a friend who is not the bravest of riders but there she was, riding in her pasture without her helmet on. I asked (trying not to sound like a card-carrying member of the security police) where her helmet was. She said she'd never go out on the trail without one but she felt safe in the pasture.
Which sounded to me a lot like people who (back before you could get busted for not wearing your seat belt and probably sent to Guantanamo for not putting a seat belt on your kid) used to use their seat belts on long-distance drives but not during a quick trip to the grocery store -- despite statistics that most car accidents happen within 25 miles of home.
So I was already (again) pondering the risks we take and how adept we are at defining "risky" as a step or two beyond anything we -- or by extension any sane person -- would consider doing ourselves. Then the subject of cell phones came up on one of my horsey e-lists. One other woman and I don't even have cell phones. She only recently started wearing a helmet when she rides. That was a big enough step for now; she wasn't ready to immediately adopt another safety device. Brava, thought I.
Me, I wear my helmet but I don't get religious about it because (1) none of us wore helmets as kids and we all survived more risky antics than I'd ever do now; (2) I was a bicycle commuter for years in Washington, D.C., and never wore a helmet; (3) at Crow Hollow I used to regularly ride Allie in from the pasture bareback, with a halter and lead rope -- and no helmet; and (4) my friend who had the accident a month ago (she's recovering steadily, btw, though her vision isn't back to normal) was wearing a regulation helmet, didn't fall in any usual way (by coincidence her fall was caught on video by another rider's father), and still sustained TBI, traumatic brain injury.
I figure you can play the if-if-if game forever, but when it comes down to it, each of us decides what the risk is for us and how we want to deal with it. I love being alive and no way am I done with my work in the world. If I really believed there was a significant chance of doing myself permanent or fatal damage while riding, I wouldn't do it. I've had a few close calls doing things I hadn't previously considered risky, like last winter when I fell about 10 feet when a ladder slipped out from under me. I haven't stopped climbing up and down ladders, but when I climb up and down that particular ladder I make sure it's hooked to the wall. I'm quite aware that I could have broken my leg, my back, or my neck. But I didn't.
My eyesight has been lousy since childhood, but since my retina reattachment surgeries of 2004 -- see "My Terrorist Eye" for the whole story -- the corrected vision in my right eye is 20/100. I make my living copyediting and proofreading, on paper and on a computer screen. If the retina in my left eye went and could only be corrected to 20/100, I couldn't work. One of the wonders of my adult life is how quickly I got used to the possibility.
For years I tithed to the insurance companies, unable to imagine living without health insurance. When the premiums went way, way over my head, I dropped it. I got used to that PDQ too. Necessity seems to be the mother of acceptance. And while we're at it, look at this totally insane life I'm living. It's me and Martin Luther, baby: Here I stand; I can do no other. God help me! Amen.
How do we, as individuals, as groups, as a whole society, decide what risks are acceptable and how to deal with them? I suspect we make most decisions on a non-rational basis and then rationalize what we're going to go ahead and do anyway. Riding and messing around with horses is dangerous. I'm going to do it anyway. Driving is dangerous. I'm going to do it anyway. Some dangerous activities I have no interest in participating in, like bungee-jumping and using drugs. I can safely think that anyone who does those things is crazy.
As a teenager, I decided that associating intimately with men was dangerous. I'm still not entirely sure why I decided this, but it was already clear that associating intimately with men made many women stupid and I didn't want that to happen to me. By the time I had enough confidence in my own intelligence and other abilities to know that no man could make me stupid, I was all too aware of the myriad other dangers of associating intimately with men and couldn't think of any good reasons to take the risk. It's way more dangerous than bungee-jumping or using drugs. But see how many women do it! Whether that makes them brave or unbelievably foolish -- well, I'll reserve judgment, as long as they don't rag on me for riding into the state forest solo without a cell phone.
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