Last week, that capricious bastard Fate plucked one of Maine’s finest physicians from the sky and flung him to the sea in his small plane.

Dr. Louis Hanson died while help raced to his side, as though all the good he had done in his life counted little when it mattered. It felt to me that God was asleep at His switch, but perhaps He just needed another family doc in heaven.

But was it just Fate? What else would suddenly strike down such a man literally and figuratively out of the blue? Math, that’s what, the boring, grinding, inexorable math of probability: probability of illness, probability of injury, and probability of premature death. Our lives are a cold calculus of odds being bent one way or another, waiting to see if our number is up.

Sudden death, or life-threatening illness before we are old, are what result when chance meets our personal probability of developing these problems, or of surviving them. The more prepared and a little lucky we are, the better our chances of avoiding trouble, or surviving it if we cannot avoid it.
The less prepared or lucky we are, the more likely we are to become that tragedy everyone shakes their head about and hopes never happens to them.

Two different 60-year-olds who come up against identical serious illnesses or injuries illustrate the math-meets-fate issue. If Person A exercises regularly, does not smoke, and has pretty good muscle mass, he is substantially more likely to survive than Person B, who has emphysema, heart disease, and the muscle mass of a jelly doughnut. If bad luck — a car driven by a drunk, for example — meets both, Person A has bent the probability curve of survival in his favor by a lifetime of preparation and good health. Person B has bent it in the opposite direction, so his chances of survival are substantially less.

Much of this battle for favorable odds against disaster goes on silently within us. Every day, countless cells in our bodies copy their DNA in order to reproduce, each time with a small probability of an error in the copying. If our cellular repair mechanisms fix the mistake, normal cellular reproduction goes on, and so do we. If the mistake does not get fixed, and then gets copied as multitudes of abnormal cells, we get cancer or some other disease of cells gone bad. The more our lifestyle or genetic makeup contributes to DNA damage, the more abnormal DNA we produce, the more chances we have to make cancer cells, and the more risk we run of developing cancer.

We affect these odds every day, bending our probability one day in favor of longer life, and another day in favor of a shorter life. On good days, we exercise, eat right, don’t talk on the cellphone while driving, etc. If we add these kinds of favorable odds-benders to others — such as having health insurance, regular health care, good genes and a college education — the odds stack substantially in our favor when compared to those with fewer of these advantages.

On other days, we bend the odds in the opposite direction; we smoke cigarettes, text while driving, skip our medicines, eat the wrong things, etc. We might indulge our passions for riskier pastimes, such as flying planes or skiing down mountains.

We often play this odds game with the lives of others, including those we love. Gather the family for a boating excursion, run the safety checklist, get everyone in life vests, train them for emergencies, stay sober while captaining the ship, and the chances they will all survive a surprise disaster on the water are higher than if any one of those things does not get done.

So the question is not whether Fate can reach out and push your plane from the sky, your car from the road, or your cells from the right pathway of DNA copying. Of course it can, no matter what life you have led.

The question is, which way will your odds have been bent when that happens? Knowing that, which way will you bend your odds tomorrow?

Erik Steele, a physician in Bangor, is chief medical officer of Eastern Maine Healthcare Systems.

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22 Comments

    1.  I believe the piece was sincerely meant, and I was very much in sync with the opening.  However, the writing does seem to wander more than a little.

    2. As a pilot and a doctor, my thoughts exactly. The author’s abstract tendencies may explain. Though my sense is he just lost a friend, and we should give the good doc space.

  1. God is still the One in control.  Man takes chances, but his life is in the Master’s hands.

      1. some  people are born a  Bastard, and can”t help it, but other people go out of their way to be a bastard!!!!  the word is inappropriate for the good doctor to use,  so flippantly!!!!!

  2. which way will you bend your odds tomorrow?   ( your words)   how is this applicable to illegal euthanasia?   Is this Fate or God?  with all due respect, like your response to this Q…

  3. Fate didnt have anything to do with this.  The plane was removed from Casco Bay with the right fuel cap missing, and fuel selector set on right tank. Reported flying very low over the water.  Left tank supposed full.  Fuel starvation, and too little time to diagnose and react.  Gravity always plays last. 

  4. As I understand it one of fuel caps (there are two tanks, one in each wing) was missing from the right wing and the fuel selector (a switch the pilot controls to get fuel to the engine) was set to the right tank.  If that is true, it was not fate, it was pilot error.

  5. I’m curious to know why it took the death of a wealthy “physician” to inspire you to write an essay about the fragility of life.  People die everyday.  Many of the people who died this week passed on the chance to be a doctor, and many of them went on to do more important work. There are noble professions beyond the medical field, and their are lives equally and even more notable.

    1. I’m curious to know why people are so quick to criticize and condemn the benevolent efforts of others.  Steele’s essay describes the doctor/pilot’s fate as a way to remind us that we are all mortal.  Too many of us feel that death is for everyone else, but not for ourselves, which is why we take so much for granted in our lives.  We humans take nearly everything for granted, in fact, especially our good health which is squandered on cigarettes and the like.  I thought the piece was pretty well done.

  6. The use of “bastard” in this column is an insult to the BDN’s readers. Surely a less offensive word could have been used. 

  7. Well written.  I might add that we do often bring on our own fate.  The phrase “Accidents are caused, they just don’t happen” is mostly true.  Choose to climb a ladder to get the cat out of the tree?  Continue a golf game when a thunderstorm is near?  I guess the other phrase “dumb luck”  has a place in this thought process.  My condolences to the author for the loss of a colleague and friend.

  8. Readers of Dr. Steele’s columns know that he has absolutely no concern for the well being of the peasants at his hospital and would never say a word remotely sympathetic toward the nurses re their periodic labor disputes. True, as one of the top administrators he’s likely restricted in what he CAN say, but surely he could show an ounce of sympathy or at least clarify for his readers the issues of job duties, etc. The accident that took the life of this wonderful doctor is, of course, tragic, even if the plane wasn’t properly maintained. But it would be nice for the saintly Dr. Steele to show any interest in ordinary persons. Don’t count on it. 

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