Calculating Medical Odds (and ends)

Not just because I play, poker, but overall, I consider myself a pretty good judge of risk. Working in Marketing Research taught me a lot about statistics, probability, and so on. It helps on the felt and in life. And when it comes to my medical history, I’m beating all sorts of odds. For example, I finally had a chance to sit down (via video) with my doctor about my test results (that I wrote about here), and I received a copy of the results.

 

What I can tell you is this – if I had any less cancer, I wouldn’t have cancer. 

When they do during a biopsy is gather samples from various places on the prostate, and then test each one. My results showed cancer cells in only ONE of the six areas, and on only ONE of the samples in that area. Then, they look at “how cancerous” that sample area was (using something called a Gleason Score) and determine the overall risk. My Gleason Score was the lowest it could be and still be called “cancerous.” 

So it’s no wonder my doc said “low risk,” though it should be “low/low/low risk.” 

If my prostate was a hand in poker, it would be like holding pocket Aces against my opponent’s 8-3 off-suit, and the flop comes A-9-3. I am a heavy favorite to win it all. 

Of course, I use this hand as an example because it’s EXACTLY the hand I wound up losing in the final stages of a tournament a few months ago (yeah, I still remember). I was up against a LAG (loose-aggressive player for those of you who don’t know the poker lingo), the type of guy who’ll play any two cards and bet big just to scare you. In this hand, he raised things up, and as I had a great starting hand, I just called. The flop gave him a tiny pair of threes compared to my three Aces, and I sandbagged the hand by checking, knowing that he’d try to bluff a big hand. Sure enough, he shoves all in and I snap-called. 

And the turn card was another three. 

And the river…the fourth three. 

Grrrrrr… 

That’s a “less than one percent chance” coming through against me, and yet that’s TWICE as likely as me getting cancer and succumbing to it in the next ten years. So yeah, I like my chances.

 

Even better, consider this – I live in Oregon, currently one of the worst states in the US in the rate of vaccinating its citizens with the COVID vaccines. Worse yet, I live in Columbia County, the WORST county in the state for vaccination rates. 

And yet, today I received my first shot of Moderna. As did Mona. AT THE SAME TIME. 

Just last week when I received my various emails and notifications from the state and county health offices about what was available, getting an appointment was a crapshoot (and I lost, though I am happy to say my 78-year-old neighbor got in for his first shot). This week? Piece of cake. Getting the shot was easy, too. And we’ve set up a time for the second dose. 

I plan on being around here for a long, long time. I like my odds.