Done with class (until the fall)

[This are my last few proseminar journal entries.  I'm done with my classes...one more week in my lab, and then I can finally say that I'm on vacation...]

I think that I’m finally beginning to understand what Prof. M says when he asks students to “think like bioethicists”.  Context: I came into this proseminar thinking that a bioethicist couldn’t possibly process things in the same way that a scientist or a musician might.  (That is, since I identify as both a scientist and a musician, I will have a very difficult time learning how to think like a bioethicist.)

However, to my surprise, I’m learning that there is a similar sort of thought process to all three of these personalities.  All of them, at their core, involve the proposal of an idea, and then the substantiation of said idea.  Each personality will take a slightly different approach, of course, but my point is that if I can think like a scientist and like a musician, there’s no reason why I can’t learn to think like a bioethicist.  (In other words, it may not be as far out of my reach as I thought.)  After all, I already like to think systematically; that’s the way I’m wired.  And a bioethicist, according to Prof. M, survives by a) clearly defining the concepts and terms he wants to use, b) using those concepts and terms with stringent consistency, and lastly, c) using them to advance the proposed argument – that is to say, “thinking hard with them”.

One topic covered today that I found especially interesting was the question of how bioethics attempts to handle the physician’s apparent duty not to kill.  My knee-jerk reaction to this issue is firmly rooted in my faith, which takes a clear stance on it in Exodus 20¹³: “You shall not murder.”  Therefore, if I were to assume a position strictly based on my religion, I would be the physician who, without exception, refuses to perform any kind of abortion and rejects physician-assisted suicide (or euthanasia, or whatever they’re calling it these days.  That’s all very confusing, especially with the connotations of terms like “euthanasia”.)  But here’s my problem – deference to a religious position, however clear, seems like an almost laughably easy route.  In fact, it’s too easy.  Why?  Because of cases like Dax Cowart.

I’m finding that it’s one thing to talk about issues like abortion and active intentional killing in theory.  Yes, it’s one thing to tackle these issues systematically, to delineate the categories and arguments, to make all of the charts and tables.  I rarely have a problem when it comes to examining difficult issues with a cool, analytical approach.  But it’s another thing entirely to see such issues.  As a student, it’s a completely different experience to be presented with real cases…real people…real lives.  This is not theory anymore!  How can I possibly decide that active intentional killing is universally wrong when Dax Cowart went through such agony and mistreatment from the very professionals who were supposed to be helping him?

This brings me to some thoughts on the two types of “active killing”.  As I understand it now, the difference between homicide and assisted suicide lies in who takes the “last step” before the individual dies.  At this point (i.e. the caveat being that I’m not a physician yet), I can’t see myself ever agreeing to commit homicide, even at the request of a patient.  Even the sight of those words makes me shudder.  However – if it would fall in the realm of quality medical care, I might, after a lot of consideration and conversation, assist a suicide.  (That said, I really hope I never run into this kind of situation; even thinking about it is making me nervous.)

At the end of the day, do I believe that there is something intrinsically wrong with killing another person?  Yes.  Killing in the sense that I believe God meant it in the Decalogue (that is, murder) clearly violates respect for the individual and the sanctity of life.  I think that murder (in this case, homicide) unjustly interferes with a choice that is no one’s to make but God’s.  But then again…I don’t believe that God sanctions unnecessary suffering.

***

This could be a little nitpicky, but I really liked that Dr. S asked us those basic questions: why medicine, and why LIM.  I was a bit caught off-guard since I sat near the front and had to go first, but I’m realizing now that those answers are really important ones to have at my fingertips.  They’re basic interview questions, after all…and having comprehensive, elevator-ride answers to them will only serve me well as I progress through my education (i.e. residency interviews).  And I haven’t even mentioned that it will help me to have those answers clear and accessible whenever I’m doubting my abilities or my call to this profession (which happens way too often.  But then, I guess I would be a lesser steward of my own growth if I didn’t look at my choices with a critical eye once in a while…)

Oh, one other thing: I’m not sure that this was her intention or not (or whether it’s just my projection), but I felt like Dr. S did a good job of subtly saying that the MBA is a better choice for LIM students than is the MS.  I understand that she’s speaking from life experience, and that she’s seen MBAs go “farther” in the job arena…but as an MS student, hearing that is a bit harsh.  I do wish that she had given a more balanced picture of what these graduate degrees – both of them – could do for us, instead of just implying that the MS students are destined to be disadvantaged if/when we ever decide to step away from clinical work.  For now, it feels like just because I’m not expressly interested in management, finance, accounting, informatics, etc., I’m losing out and settling for the consolation degree…

***

I was thoroughly unimpressed by today’s lectures.  Prof. L speaks well for sure, but as a LIM student, I felt somewhat excluded after the relevance of the talks given by Profs. M and V to my future.  Eugenics, Sims, and more on the history of bioethics?  Perhaps I’m just tired, and a little burned-out (which would be a reasonable assumption, given the pace which I’ve maintained since the end of spring term), but I really don’t want to hear any more history.  That’s not going to help me, practically speaking, over the next few years.  What will help me is more examples of how to systematically work through difficult cases, and clinical situations where the ethics are murkier than anyone would like.  I much prefer the lectures in which I get to learn about the ethical principles involved and then apply them to real scenarios.  And I don’t know about my peers, but I do not see myself ever getting involved in animal research – my summer research fellowship (in a Drosophila lab) is teaching me that and more.  I certainly don’t support the practice of hurting animals for scientific gain, even if they cannot feel pain, but yesterday’s lecture by Dr. S gave me all the clarity I need about how the next few years of my life are going to play out.  So all of this talk about animal experimentation, for example, is leaving me rather bored and disenchanted with this proseminar for today.

That said, I forgot to mention yesterday that Dr. S did leave me thinking about something positive.  (I was a bit harsh on her, I think…)  She did spend quite some time talking about academic medicine, albeit in the context of how much money different professors at varying “levels” (i.e. full, associate, visiting) can earn.  Perhaps at some point way in the future, when I no longer have the same energy for my private practice that I started with, I could be a clinical professor!  I already know that I enjoy teaching – how much more enjoyable could it be to teach future physicians about the profession I love (and only expect to love more as time passes)?  And then, on the practical side, this could give me the more structured schedule that I may need as I settle down and raise children.  This definitely deserves some more thought on my part, since it would probably affect where I choose to pursue residency positions – I would need to look more seriously at university hospitals and other teaching facilities…

I was really thrown off by Dr. P's lecturing style.  Perhaps the issue is a simple incompatibility with my learning style.  In any case, it took  me a significant amount of time to get used to the way she was handling her lecture time.  I wish that it had been more structured – that is, less of a “casual discussion”, less haphazard, less jumpy.  I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt, as I have been learning in a decidedly “undergraduate” environment for the past three years.  It’s strange, how quickly I judged (i.e. within the first fifteen minutes) that she was an ineffective lecturer, just because she didn’t really give much background or introduction to any of the myriad topics she covered.  I guess it goes to show that no matter how much you’ve learned at a university as prestigious as UC Berkeley, a degree from there doesn’t automatically make you a good teacher of everything you’ve absorbed.  The lesson for me, perhaps, is that no brand-name medical school or residency position, in itself, will make me a good physician.

But enough of my editorializing.  I did learn a bit from her.  For example, before today, I had no idea what “23 and Me” is, much less the ethical issues that surround it.  But now that I’ve done a little bit of Googling on it, I am amazed that for just a few hundred dollars, I could send in a biological sample and receive my entire genome in return.  And then, there’s the whole issue of genetic testing not just being available to all, but actually being recommended (for certain pregnant women).  Do people really need to know the intricacies of their genetic programming?  Are we just opening new doors to increasing the cost of healthcare – for procedures and scans done largely out of paranoia?  All of this makes me wonder if we’re getting to the point of doing science just for science’s sake…

***

What a wonderful end to the seminar.  I never thought that I would ever be interested in writing, publishing, and all of that…much less in the field of research ethics!  I mean, I’m obviously settled on pursuing a career in medicine, but today corrected my previously-held notion that as a physician, I would have neither the time nor the capacity to write.

For example, I was intrigued when Prof. P mentioned that a medical student occasionally wrote for a column in the “New York Times”.  After spending some time on Google, I didn’t find this student, but I did find a Dr. Perri Klass, professor of journalism and pediatrics (what a relevant combination!) at NYU, who has written quite a bit for the “Times”.  Here is one article of hers which takes on the issue of patient confidentiality…with middle-school-age children.  This fascinated me partly because patient age was rarely incorporated into discussions on confidentiality, either in this proseminar or in class last term.  However, I think it’s going to be an important part of my education, especially when I begin to see patients.

I’ve never really thought of myself who might go into research, even clinical research; I guess I don’t really have a burning desire to explore that side of medicine.  But it’s nice to know that you don’t have be a “researcher” to write for peer-reviewed journals (as well as other forms of media).  I’m thinking about people like Dr. Sanjay Gupta, for example, who’s made a name for himself both as a clinician and as an educator…he affects so many lives, just because he makes the occasional television appearance.  I wonder if I could be like him, and dare to reach outside the confines (albeit safe confines) of a private practice.  That would mean venturing outside my comfort zone for sure, but I do like to write.  Perhaps I ought to make sure that I don’t forget to write, even as medical school threatens to take over all of my time.  After all, as Prof. P pointed out, the scholar Janet Emig said, “writing makes our thoughts visible and concrete and allows us to modify them.  Writing down a word, a sentence, a paragraph, suggests more words, sentences, paragraphs.  Writing progresses as an act of discovery.”  I’d like to distinguish myself somehow while I’m in medical school; perhaps writing, in some way, will help me to achieve this goal.

Speaking of Prof. P, I must say that I am extremely impressed with both his lecturing style and his attention to detail as a teacher.  The way that he takes seemingly-insurmountable tasks (i.e. explaining how to write and publish in a journal) and breaks them down into manageable chunks is a really helpful thing for me, as a student who knows next to nothing about that process.  His starting with the basics (i.e. why publish at all, techniques for coming up with ideas) is making the world of publishing seem far less inaccessible.  His business acumen, with regard to everything from HIV research to genomics to IRBs to research ethics and publishing, has me in awe!  I will certainly be consulting him for advice on how to move forward with my healthcare management project.  (I think that I’d like to do something with regard to improving treatment and management of patients with eating disorders, but am aware that any research on mental health will require me to get all kinds of permission from the Albany Med IRB.  Time shall tell…)

Issues of learning and abortion

[It's nice that I'm being allowed the liberty of creative (i.e. non-academic) writing, especially in a LIM class.  After all, I'm all about journaling.]

As draining as it is to spend such long hours in the classroom, I am so thankful that I'm getting to take this seminar.  After all, I'm not in college to spend my time in passivity, learning by rote and memorizing information that may or may not matter to me after I've graduated.  I'm here, rather, to absorb information about issues that will be relevant to my career path.  I'm here to accrue knowledge and refine my personal convictions.  I'm here to be an active participant in my own growth, as well as a good steward of my education.  And although this class is more tiring than I ever expected, it's giving me all of the above, and in abundance.  So, I'm grateful.

On a more personal note, I’m beginning to notice that this class is teaching me something that’s decidedly not academic.  To put it simply, it involves a classmate of mine who is…ah, why sugarcoat things?  She’s obnoxious.  Now, I hate to cast (unwarranted) aspersions on another person’s character, so I’m going to try to shoot for objectivity here.  (I may or may not succeed… but this particular classmate is a woman I’ve only known for a few days, after all, so let me at least try to be fair without sacrificing honesty.)

My context for these comments is that I haven’t taken classes with adults very often during my three years at Union.  On the contrary, I’m used to being around undergraduates, to being immersed in the undergraduate “atmosphere”.  Specifically, I’m used to hands raised, and to the implicit understanding that a professor deserves a certain respect from his/her students.  My observations of this particular classmate over the past few days reveal her to be a complete departure from all of the above.  She speaks out of turn appallingly often, and apparently thinks it respectful (to both her peers and her teachers) to carry on side conversations while class is in session.  She responds to professors more audibly and frequently than is decorous – and here, I’m not talking about the responses to professors’ direct addresses.  The adage that comes to mind is “speak only when you’re spoken to”…I mean, by all means, laugh at a joke, but no one needs to hear how you feel about the professor’s every other assertion – especially when you’re not adding anything of substance to the discussion.  That’s just inappropriate!  What’s more is that her conduct hinders the education of those who are trying to pay attention and take advantage of the wonderful opportunities (i.e. lecturers) in this class.

This woman has me convinced that she thinks she’s the only one in the room; such a selfish attitude, coupled with her pushy demeanor, does nothing to inspire my respect for her as a peer.  It is, rather, a huge turn-off, and I would be grossly understating things if I were to that she irritates me.  However, in a roundabout sort of way, she is proving to be instructive.  (I’m searching for a silver lining here because frankly, unless I do, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to tolerate being around her for the rest of the week.)  The first lesson that comes to mind is an old admonition my mother used to give me: “If you have nothing nice to say, there’s no need to say anything at all.”  It’s been taking considerable and constant self-discipline to not ask this classmate to rein herself in (if for no other reason but my sanity)…and, on occasion, to kindly stay quiet.  This exercise in self-restraint is not without its benefits; I know that in the future, it will behoove me to control my reactions, especially among my elders.  The line between being a doormat and exercising social prudence is a fine one, but an important one that this classmate is helping me to toe.  As my mother also often points out, there are all kinds of people in this world, and the least that each of them can do for you is teach you a greater awareness of yourself.  This woman is teaching me about the kind of classmate I don’t want to be, which is just as important a definition as is the kind of classmate I do want to be.   At best, this is a counterintuitive conclusion, but it’s a valuable one nonetheless.

On to matters of class material, then…this morning, as Dr. M spoke at length about [philosopher] Gregory, he often spoke of the value Gregory placed on candor in the physician-patient relationship.  As I understand it, candor is honesty of expression – and in medicine, implies a transparency with the patient regarding all aspects of his care.  For example, a respect for candor dictates that a physician must refrain from managing a problem that is too much for him to handle, instead opting to seek a consultation with the appropriate professional.  Perhaps this speaks to my relatively sparse history education, but I am continually surprised by how applicable many of Gregory’s assertions are in the contemporary context.  The value of knowing one’s own limits by no means expired with Gregory.

The other subject which especially interested me today was the discussions on abortion, particularly because this issue bothered me personally for years in the context of my father’s job as an OB/GYN.  It seems that a personal context always lends an extra dimension to this issue, which is already frustratingly controversial.  I’ve been asking my dad for years about how he can perform abortions (albeit infrequently) and still maintain a clear conscience.  His reply is always that one shouldn’t use religious beliefs as a basis for professional decisions.  Perhaps that’s a way to avoid the issue; I don’t like this method, though because my faith plays a prominent role in defining my self-conduct, both personally and professionally.  I do understand the value in “keeping work at work” and so on, and I am aware of Gregory’s position on the issue (that when professional and personal interests conflict, the professional interest should prevail).  But at this point in my life, at least, I feel compelled to seek consistency between my faith and my career.

During the winter break of my sophomore year, I had an observership on the labor and delivery/maternity floors of a hospital in the Bronx.  I remember spending time in an ambulatory clinic where abortions (both D&Cs and D&Es) were performed.  It was that experience that gave me my first experience with what the issue of abortion looks like in real life.  The D&Cs were somehow easier to watch, perhaps because they are performed before the pregnancy really looks much like a fetus; everything is blood and scraps of tissues, and it’s less obvious to a bystander that all of that would have become a baby…someone’s baby.  The first D&E that I observed, however, made me nauseous…I remember seeing the surgeon extricate a small, slippery arm, a foot, a head, and thinking, it’s like seeing parts of a doll, the kind of doll I played with as a young girl.  It was essentially a dismembered fetus, and that was upsetting.  It seemed to me then (although I didn’t use this terminology, per se) that this was a baby, and it had the right to live…it had moral standing.  Did the first fetus have it, too?  I think so…but the problem here is that it just never got a chance to survive to the point where it would have looked like a doll, too.

Having actually seen the procedure, it’s hard for me not to think of abortion – at any stage of fetal development – as wrong.  How will my faith figure into my professional conduct, if at all?  Here is the current stance of the Episcopal Diocese of New York on abortion:

“The Diocese supports freedom of choice in abortion...Convention in 1974 (reaffirmed in 1986) endorsed the decision of the U.S. Supreme Court ‘allowing women to exercise their own conscience in the matter of abortions.’[1]

I think need to do more research to see what the Church of England and the Bible say about abortion before I draw any conclusions…

What will I do when my professional obligation to my patient hangs in the balance (i.e. when the mother’s health is at risk)?  I’m not sure yet.  I can’t see myself ever performing elective abortions, but perhaps I could justify performing therapeutic abortions on the grounds of responsible patient care.

---

[1] “Positions on Social Issues.”  Episcopal Diocese of New York: Abortion, Needs of the Poor, Aging.  23 July 2012.  http://www.dioceseny.org/pages/319-abortion-needs-of-the-poor-aging. 

3 gifts musical

3 gifts musical (I chose 4, because it made sense: "You are My All in All,", "He Knows My Name", each new song (and a beloved music teacher who encouraged me to write them).

This brings me to the 225th of 1000 gifts.  This past May, I found this blog written by a woman named Ann Voskamp, who's written a book called One Thousand Gifts.  Ironically, my first response to reading about her passion for living with gratitude was not to buy and read her book.  Of course, I will do that at some point, but for now, I'm content to take her challenge: in one year, to count one thousand blessings in my life.  It's a humbling daily goal, because I find that I'm quicker to see the things going wrong in my life than I am to see the things that are going right.  I'm quicker to blame and petition God because of what I don't have than I am to thank Him for what He's already given.  Living mindfully, I gather, involves not only recognizing where you've erred and need forgiveness (whether from people or from God), but also recognizing where life is beautiful and satisfying.

Voskamp publishes a "JoyDare" on her blog each month (here's the one for July), which is a calendar that gives a different "theme" of blessings to look for in each day.  Today, I had to come up with three gifts that had to do with music.  Only three? I thought.  I could write about my guitar and its story...and how I've been blessed with a voice to sing...about how I sing everywhere from the grocery store to the bathroom.  Do I think about lyrics?  Songs?  My own songs?  The situations surrounding particular songs?  People I've written about?  Situations I've written about?  The person a particular song reminds me of?  Oh, the possibilities.  I limited myself to the four gifts above and, as I've already noted, was humbled to realize that I have too many gifts related to music to count, or to fit into one post on Facebook (which is where I'm keeping track of the gifts, in hopes that I will spur some of my friends to take on this challenge, too).

I feel like I'll be able to talk to people more concretely and articulately about this whole experience once I've actually read the book in question.  I suppose a trip to half.com is in order...

Internal processing

I'm an internal processor, which means that I'm hardly ever as articulate in conversation as I am in writing.  I can put on my professional, talking-to-adults hat and read like I'm thirty, but when it comes to the conversations that bring out five-year-old me, I actually have to prepare.  I need to think about what I'm going to say and anticipate potential reactions.  Is this a weakness?  Is it dishonest?  I used to think so, but these days, I've been growing into an acceptance of this being the way I operate.  The people who really matter in my life accept it, so why shouldn't I?


Ps. 56 is on my mind today, particularly v. 3: "When I am afraid, I will put my trust in you".  I've been saying this to myself all day long...trying to internalize it, hold it, believe it.  I woke with puffy eyes and a throbbing head that reminded me of how last night racked me, wrecked me...and a few random passersby, including the kindly woman at the campus center near the coffee, have told me that I look "really tired" today.  (I wish I knew her name - names are so important.)  You bet I'm tired...but it's not your fault that you've only gotten part of the answer right.  There are only a few people, after all, who can recognize this look as the she-cried-all-night look.  The important people know...and one of those important people is gone, gone, gone.  So, no, I don't want to be cheery with the other two students in my lab, or play with fruit flies, or move, or talk to anyone except those important people.  What I want to do is sleep off this headache in the arms of the people who matter.  I should be running to God, because when I am afraid, I ought to put my trust in Him.  I wonder how long it will be before I'm brave enough to be honest with Him and pray.

Oddly enough, I'm learning something in this: that trusting Him might involve being patient with more than just my circumstances.  It seems to involve being patient with myself, too.

Questions about friendship

When I studied psychology in high school, I learned about the concept that the more you share with another person, the closer to you that person tends to feel.  This sat quite well with me at first.  After all, it makes sense that bonds like friendship and romantic relationships can only be strengthened by the sharing of information.  It made intuitive sense to me, yes...until my teacher stated that this closeness is artificial.  How, then, I wondered, is it possible for anyone to have a real relationship?  If there is no such thing as true closeness, then how can anyone have a friendship, a romantic relationship, or any kind of bond, for that matter?

In retrospect, I think my teacher neglected to specify (or perhaps my class notes were not as complete as they should have been) that this closeness is artificial only if the information-sharing is one-sided.  That is, it seems more reasonable to me that both parties must share freely and openly with each other in order to cultivate a genuine closeness that could be labeled as a relationship.  Whew, I sigh to myself now.  Thank goodness; it's possible for real relationships to exist, after all.

Or is it?  For what is friendship, really?  Can it be defined by such information-sharing, and if so, to what extent?

I have been grappling with such questions for years.  As a high school student, I never felt any particular urgency to search for their answers since back then, I had no friends (in school).  At best, I had a few acquaintances.  I knew plenty of people, but I did not - in fact, I refused to - consider any of them friends.  Why?  A large part of it was that my high school environment was too much of an academic and social pressure cooker for me to feel like I could make any real friends.  Perhaps my expectations were too high, but then, I have never considered a half-baked friendship built on competition worth cultivating.  In addition, I always reasoned that we were all going to go our separate ways after graduation anyway, so why bother?  Lastly, for particular personal reasons, I had absolutely no intention of preserving any ties with my high school and anyone I associated with it.  In a nutshell, that's why I can say I had no friends in high school without fearing that I might sound whiny or pitiful.

Given all of this, it is understandable that when I began at Union last year, I was ready.  I nursed a fierce hunger for a fresh start.  I craved a new beginning with new faces and, hopefully, new friendships.  I was cautious, but open to any potential friends who might present themselves to me as, together, we explored our new lives as college students.  And present themselves they did, thank goodness.  But this welcome development also meant that with each passing day, each new friend, each flourishing friendship, I only grew more eager to explore my world and my mind so that I might answer the above questions for myself.

How much information-sharing has to happen, and what kind of information has to be shared, so that one can label a relationship a friendship?  Is this information-sharing the only major factor which contributes to the creation and development of a friendship?  And if all you have in the end is family, why bother with friendship in the first place?

A last thought: in his novel Life of the Beloved, Henri J.M. Nouwen writes of friendship and brokenness as part of a letter to his dear friend:

"...our brokenness reveals something about who we are.  Our sufferings and pains...touch us in our uniqueness and our most intimate individuality.  The way I am broken tells you something unique about me.  The way you are broken tells me something unique about you.  That is the reason for my feeling very privileged when you freely share some of your deep pain with me, and that is why it is an expression of my trust in you when I disclose to you something of my vulnerable side" (87).

This relationship between Nouwen and his friend, as described in the book, is exceptionally strong.  In light of this, I wonder: do the strongest of friendships originate from two people sharing more of their "sufferings and pains" with each other, or is it more fortifying to share moments of joy?  I suspect that the answer is "both", but then I wonder which is more useful in cultivating the strongest possible relationship.

(Any and all thoughts, opinions, stories, experiences, discussions, and so on - about any of these questions - are welcome!)

Do I believe in luck?

I don't believe in luck.  Show me empirical evidence for luck, a rational argument for its existence, and I'll think about it.  I have a friend who calls luck "God-coincidences", and as much as I admire her faith (as well as her skillful command of language), my lack of faith makes it impossible for me to perceive a "God-coincidence", much less experience one.

There's one slight problem with this belief (or perhaps it's a disbelief.  Or just a lack of belief.  But disbelief and lack of belief are both beliefs in themselves.  Hello, Tim Keller!)  The day I took the SAT, I wore a particular sweatshirt which I had bought at Disney World the previous spring.  I chose to wear it that day because it was satisfyingly roomy, exceptionally warm, and had a lovely huge hood inside which I could hide, lest I be distracted by other test-takers.  I ended up with a perfect score on the exam.  I don't say this to boast; I say this to make a point.  I'm no smarter than the next person.  I work hard, which is a rational explanation for my success that Saturday morning in March.  But there was always a nagging voice that insisted the sweatshirt had something to do with it...and there was always a part of me that believed that voice.

Go ahead and call me a hypocrite, if it makes you feel better about this.  I prefer to think of myself as a human being grappling with a conflict.  Case in point: I had an exam this morning which I knew would be difficult.  I expected it.  So by 7:30 am, I was mentally prepared, knowing that I would leave the exam feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me.  But before I left my room, I made sure to grab my Disney sweatshirt...because the way I saw it, a little luck couldn't hurt.