Sometimes when I want to write, I’ve got nothing to share.
At least I feel that way.
The truth is, I have a million things I could write about. But I tell myself: Meh.
This morning, laying in my bed alone in the dark, listening to my children get ready for school, I found myself wishing that I could have had a child with SMF. As soon as the thought entered my head, the following conversation, with myself, ensued:
You are crazy.
::I’m not crazy. We would have beautiful children together.::
Next weekend is the Beyond The Love poly conference in Ohio. I presented last year, and loved it. It’s a huge disappointment to me that I can’t attend this year, but I’ve already been making plans for next year. The reason I can’t go is big and complicated. Myself and three of my children have something called Multiple Endocrine Neoplasia Type 2A. Google it if you like, but it’s a genetic syndrome that carries a 99 to 100 percent chance of medullary thyroid cancer. (Yes. 99 to 100 percent.) It’s super rare, and I’ve been told by an excited doctor that we are the largest “cohort” in Idaho.
So on Tuesday my 11 year old, Leo, will have a total thyroidectomy, four weeks after his brother, and four weeks before his sister. It’s a four hour surgery, and as the mommy, it’s nerve-wracking, and complicated, and tiring. When we discovered it a few years ago, I had two distinct types of cancer. I’m lucky. It’s gone now.
And I still would rather be at Beyond The Love with my friends. Dumb cancer.