New pothole to avoid

I got seated last night at a dinner party next to, of all people, an oncologist.

While usually it is fun to explore links to people, my having cancer and him treating it didn't seem like a promising path to a fun conversation.

But I was energetically (relatively) taking part in a discussion at our end of the table about how well state government does or doesn't work (guess which side I was on)?

We got to talking about how maybe people now expect too much from government and that possibly they should be told that, say, every bridge won't always be safe.

Someone across the table unaware of my condition then jocularly suggested to the oncologist that along the same lines he should tell his patients that a certain number will die every year. The doc didn't respond directly and looked uncomfortable, as he did a little later when the same guy suggested that a rotation in a cancer center is a particularly hard task for an intern since so many patients die.

I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, before leaving a few minutes later.

We were told later that the guy engaging the oncologist is a warm and kind man who obviously didn't have a clue about what is going on with me, since I still don't introduce myself as a cancer patient.

He certainly didn't intend to be cruel.

Sort of reminds me that years ago at a party after more than a couple of beers I saw a young woman limping and (also trying to be funny - remember this is back in the '70s) suggested that her boyfriend had tripped her.

No, she said. Actually, she had polio.

Ouch. That's one way to cure the tendency towards foot-in-mouth disease.