(picture of my newborn nephew taken by my sister-in law)
I’ve been trying to change the way I view life…and have made great strides…but still at times find positive-thinking difficult. In my world, the medical world, being “positive” is usually not good. When I hear the word positive, I hear “BAD,” “malignant,” “when in doubt cut it out,” and “cancer is the answer.”
Positivity may result in:
b: an amputation
c: and/or chemotherapy
e: (if you’re of the supremely unlucky) all of the above
One begins to prefer negativity. I want the majority of my lab tests to come up negative.
“Negative thinking can become a self-fulfilling prophesy”–that took a while to sink in. At first I found that silly. As if expecting a truck to splatter me in the highway, may make one appear, speed up, and take aim. How could anticipating the crash of my flight bring the plane down? Telekinesis is unscientific. Carrie was ficition. Seems…Tom Cruise-ish, possibly suggesting paying my way out of chronic nasal infections by “achieving” a Level 5 Scientology status…
But I know, basically negativity is bad. Colors everything gray, wastes time, develops ulcers, and eliminates fun, blah, blah, blah…
So I’ve joined the fight.
The fight against my internal demons.
The war against instinct.
A positive organ donor match is good…and even a pregnancy test…sometimes.
This was one of those times, I think.
He is half-Cottrell.