a non story
nothing to report
“You do not have…”
The world is full of inequality and woe. There is always something to be annoyed about or confused by. There is always something more to be done to make things better. Most of us can’t change the world, but we do what we can to improve our wee bit. Every so often we get a phone call that changes our perspective. That could be a “Come now” or something less urgent, but unsettling.
About 18 months ago I got a call from a cousin of The Old Man, someone I may have met when I was a child. She wondered what I knew about the health of the family, who had died of what. She was piecing the jigsaw together as part of a research project- gathering the information for the Big Hospital, because of her own illness. Some while later Uncle Bungle phoned- not a speculative call, this one. It had weight.
We all got a letter from the Big Hospital, with a reference number to our family history. The message was ‘Go, get tested.’ I wondered about doing the full Angelina. If I had reconstructive surgery, would I still need scaffolding type bras? But… surgery is not to be undertaken lightly. What would I do?
In a miracle of denial, I decided not to investigate or consider further until I had something to go on. I occasionally wondered about pain and hospital and my wee pets. What if they had to deal with my surgery and realise that they could be at risk too. Would they be haunted for years? Maybe I wouldn’t choose surgery, but would I always be anxious, hyper alert?
The genetic counsellor gave me details of a website. Remarkably, I didn’t look at it. We had Christmas to do, and hefty rare disease work. Also, brain fog. I hadn’t the energy to investigate. What would my energy be like if I had treatment? Surely ME brain fog combined with chemo brain would render me totally useless? (Note the way my mind moved from preventative surgery to chemotherapy without pause. There’s nothing rational going on in there.)
This morning I got the result. I do not have the mutation that some of the McSpecs have. I am at no more risk than the general population. I did a little dance. My eyes dripped a little.
I didn’t quite realise the weight of the possibility I was ignoring until it was lifted a few hours ago. I’ll die of something sometime, but not this thing just yet.
I don’t need to buy hospital nightwear.
I don’t need to tell my daughters horrible news.
I won’t end up with Brad Pitt.
It’s a non news day, and I am delighted.