Evidence Shmevidence: A lesson in an average life

One of the big influences on my attitude to life was my friend Hunter, a brilliant surgeon and neighbour, but outside his brilliance in the theatre was another soul, searching, like me, for humour to relieve the stress and strains of our demanding jobs. 

I never knew when I’d need his home-spun cures but I certainly needed it when I was dealing with Marie.

One of the things Hunter taught me was, in the absence of evidence, use your own home grown experience as evidence.

Hunter used it, for instance, when patients would ask him about what was the normal frequency of having sex with one’s partner.

He would check on the patient’s average frequency, then mentally compare it with his own performance and, nearly every time, would inform the anxious patient with the good news that they were above average – and everyone was happy.

His startling statistical research evidence was certainly needed with Marie. Marie was in a bad way. She was as hoarse as a hyena with throat nodules.

After a cup of tea she told me she had used up all her throat leather trying to referee her kids’ fights.

‘Tell me, Doc, is their fighting average, above average or am I just one of the lucky ones and don’t realize it?’ she croaked.

I decided to try out a checklist.

‘Do you or your husband have any favourites, because that can cause fights?’

‘No favourites, Doc, they’re both pains.’

‘Do you and your husband fight a lot and the kids are just copying?’ I asked, hoping for the big breakthrough.

‘About average, I’d say,’ she groaned.

‘Have you been feeling depressed lately because that can cause attention-seeking fights?’

‘No more than usual. About average,’ was her casual reply.

‘Do you have a general problem managing the kids?’ I urged.

‘Oh no. We have to yell to get them to do anything but so does everybody.’

‘Does your husband help out or are the kids fighting to catch his attention?’ I was now desperate for a lead.

‘Like most men he can’t see the problem because he’s not around enough to know. But that’s normal,’ she sighed.

‘Last question. Do you think you should go and get professional help?’

Marie just looked at me, ‘That’s why I’m here, Doc!’

I smiled reassuringly and said that 99 per cent of kids fight anyhow.

‘But, Doc, is 6 times a day worse than average or what?’

Faced with this demand for an absolute answer I used the Hunter method— I thought, counted up my own domestic tally with my kids and then pronounced Marie average.

She sat back, I sat back, she grinned and I grinned. Now Marie was ready to hear and work at an action plan that would improve those family dynamics.

But just at that point, she had found peace in the knowledge that she was not bad and she was not alone.

As Alvin Toffler said, “parenting is the last province of the amateur” Talented as we might be in so many other areas, that day, Marie and I agreed that we were both beautifully average.