I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard that in my life. Be it in business or in life in general, people constantly remind me that you can somehow change the course of events by simply trying harder, working smarter, being nicer or whatever it may be.
The fact of the matter is you don’t. It wouldn’t be luck would it? It would be reward. And herein lies the rub. Some people have good luck and others have bad luck. Mostly, we have a bit of both and, over the course of time, it evens out.
Right now it seems the Campbell family are stuck in one of the down times. One of those periods where things just don’t seem to go our way. At least that’s how it feels from the inside. I’m sorry to be all ‘glass-is-half-empty’ with you, but there are days when things get on top of you, get too much and you just need to have a good moan.
As you know, dear little Ollie was due to have his bilateral CI surgery on Friday. Not to be out-done, Alice is due to have her replacement surgery on her left side the week after. The astute amongst you will notice the subtle use of the word ‘was‘.
Ollie is a well boy. Rarely sick, and doesn’t seem to suffer the coughs and colds which take down the rest of the family. I can’t remember him being poorly in the last six months. How come, therefore, seven days before his surgery that he has waited 12 months for (remember we were promised it would be done before his first birthday which is next week) he goes down with the cold to end all colds? There is a constant stream of something green and unholy from his nose and he is not a happy boy.
Alice was at George’s this morning for her pre-op check-up and her Mummy asked the Registrar to check Ollie’s ears; all clear. Phew. Or so we thought. Three conversations and two telephone calls later, Ollie’s surgery is off. You just can’t take a risk with these things and the hidden inflammation from a cold mean surgery is too risky. The right call no doubt but you can’t imagine how frustrated and upset we all are. Our poor little boy will have to wait a couple more months (most likely) before he can hear the world and hear Mummy and Daddy tell him we love him.
You start to wonder when things will swing our way.
So the next time someone tells you ‘you make your own luck’, you have my permission to punch them on the nose.