Genetic Testing…Here We Go

I suppose it should be enough having rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia. I suppose that added extras of Raynaud’s, migraines, insomnia, and hyper mobility are just things I’ve gotten used to. But when I went for my yearly gynecological exam this year, I was prepared when my doctor thought it was time for me to have a generic counseling session.

I had asked years ago about an elective hysterectomy since my mother died at age 43 of ovarian cancer, but I was told they usually wait until menopause. But for some reason when I mentioned that I was nervous this year because I just surpassed my mother’s life span it prompted her to want me to go.

So what do I do after making the appointment…it’s me…I research the hell out of everything. I thought they were testing from the BRCA 1 and BRCA2 gene mutations which are linked to ovarian and breast cancer. I had my meltdown. Not because I was afraid of a hysterectomy. I think I’ve always kind of been ready for that after I was done having kids, but when I started reading how many people were going the whole Angelina Jolie route and also having the double mastectomy as a preventative surgery.

I don’t have breast cancer in the family, but the genetic counselor did say that usually by the time ovarian shows up on an ultrasound, it’s stage 2 cancer and aggressive. I’m okay with the hysterectomy. What I hadn’t thought about is that there is a 50% chance that if I have the gene, that I passed it on to my kids.

As a mom, you feel you can take on anything, but not my kids. The thought of my kids getting sick, or not being able to have babies is devastating. I know that even by then there will more advancements but I’m scared.

I had my blood drawn on Monday and they said it would take about 5 weeks. It usually takes 3, but since I have primary and secondary insurance it would take a little longer. I’m trying to focus on the good in my life and not the possibility of surgery.

I just had a clear mammogram and my pelvic ultrasound showed a cyst on my left ovary which isn’t a new thing. With PCOS, it’s a common thing, actually. They’ll recheck it in a month.

I don’t know if anyone reading the blog has been through the genetic testing or a complete hysterectomy. But any insight into recovery is appreciated. Feel free to message me through the blog if you are uncomfortable commenting publicly. I just want to know how long I’m going to be down with a laporospic surgery. I have a lot of reading to do in 5 weeks but nothing beats a first hand story.

I actually thought I was walking around doing really well ignoring my wait for the results until my phone just rang and I saw the genetic counselor on the Caller ID. My heart dropped thinking if she was calling this soon it was bad, but instead she needed another number off my insurance card that was messed up on her copy. Way to give a girl a heart attack.

This is going to be a long five weeks.

I Hate Youth Baseball And Other Musings

 

There I said it. I hate youth baseball. It’s supposed to be fun, and I’m sure for some parents it is. For me, it’s hell. My kid isn’t good. He tries. He practices. He wants to be good. He actually hits really well at the batting cage and in lessons, but he gets up to bat and loses it.

Tonight we played his rival team. I call them his rival team because their coach used to be our assistant coach, and he used to be a very good friend of my husband’s. He’s not an awful guy, but he clearly thinks my kid has zero talent and preferred him being on the bench, even when his own two kids were not exactly stellar.

My son has a hard time letting go of that, and the chip on his shoulder couple with this guy’s twins making fun of my son made this game an important one. We beat them last week 11-5, but tonight there was also a middle school band concert. We were down two good players, and they were missing quite a few weak players. It changed the dynamic of the game.

That all being said, my son blew it in the last inning. He had the chance to catch two pop flies (look at me with the baseball lingo) and he missed both of them. I immediately saw the heartbreak on his face. I knew for him, that was the biggest failure he could have.

Needless to say he came home devastated. I didn’t try to talk to him at the field because I thought he needed a little space, but when he came home I hugged him and he hugged me back and started crying. That’s not something he’d normally do, but I knew he was crushed. I knew all he saw ahead of him was torment torment tomorrow at school, and worst of all I knew he felt he let his whole team down.

I could explain to him all day things that other kids did that added to the loss (and there were quite a few) but we lost by one point. It was a good, solid game. But my son is heartbroken and I can’t fix it.

I hate this part of parenting. I know I’ve written about it before. My son is a kid who really wants to have this great natural athletic ability, but just hasn’t found his way. The only thing he does exceptionally well at is golf. Of course I intend to encourage him with that, but I also don’t want to make him feel like he should give up on baseball.

It’s a fine line. I don’t want to set him up for failure. I want to teach him he needs to work hard if he has a goal, but watching him fail over and over is killing me.

Now next week I’ll miss his game due to my daughter’s chorus concert. Just my luck the kid will have the game of his life and I’ll miss it, but all I want is for him to have his one shining moment. Is that too much to ask? He’s not going to be the star and that’s okay. I do think he can be a solid player, though, if he can work through the internal stuff he has going on when he gets up to bat.

Of course I’m mom, and I’m talking psychobabble. What do I know? I know that watching your kid hurt sucks. That’s all!