Category: Uncategorized

So since this is ovarian cancer awareness month, and since I’ve been telling you people to watch out for the signs (have I mentioned that time I skyped with Kelly Ripa?), I thought I’d go a step further in my quest to set a good example and tell you about the time I had my genes tested.

You see, there are these things called BRCA genes, and sometimes they’re screwed up. Mutated, I believe, is the technical term. So having these mutated genes is not cool. According to cancer.gov (now that sounds like a fun website if I’ve ever heard of one), having these mutated genes makes a woman five times more likely than the average woman to develop breast cancer, and 15 to 40 times more likely to develop ovarian cancer. And if that wasn’t exciting enough, the gene mutations are also linked to cervical, uterine, pancreatic and colon cancer.

Awesome.

Years ago my OB/GYN told me that since my mom had ovarian cancer at such a young age, I should have a special ultrasound on my ovaries every year starting when I was 30. (As an aside, I want to mention that this ultrasound is only done on people with family history of ovarian cancer. It is not a routine test – there is no standard, accurate test for ovarian cancer, which is why it’s absolutely critical for women to be familiar with the signs and symptoms.) So, when I hit the big 3-0 this spring, off I went to have my ovaries checked.

While I was there, my doctor suggested doing a test for the BRCA gene mutation as well. You know, since I was already there and everything. I had heard about the BRCA test, read brochures about it in the doctor’s office before, and had done a little internet research (shocking, I know). I even figured it would be prudent to be tested for it at some point. However, I wasn’t planning to do it that day… just someday, after I had gotten around to all the other things on my to-do list like climb Mt. Everest or sky-dive. (Who am I kidding? We all know there’s no way on earth I’d do either of those things.) But I was already there and I was at the advanced age of 30, so I figured I might as well do it. I signed a few forms, filled a few vials of blood, set an appointment to get the results in six weeks, and I was off.

I was not, however, prepared for the complex emotions having that test brought out in me. As I left the parking lot, I called Jenny to tell her about my appointment, and I remember saying to her, “I feel like I just opened Pandora’s box.”

I didn’t really think I had the gene mutation. We don’t have any other instances of breast or ovarian cancer in our family, so while we can’t say for certain that my mom didn’t have it, my highly-qualified (I got my MD on Google, thank you) guess is that she didn’t… that her disease was a fluke, and she was in the lucky 1.4 percent of women without the gene who wind up with ovarian cancer. But like I said, we don’t know.

The thing about the BRCA gene mutation is that once it’s identified, women who have it suddenly have to make a lot of very difficult decisions. Because the likelihood of cancer is so high, some women choose to take preventive measures like having a mastectomy or an oophorectomy (which is a fun way of saying having their ovaries removed). The idea of making decisions like that freaked me out.

My initial reaction to the “what if” was to say “yank those puppies out,” but really, not having ovaries anymore is a pretty serious situation for someone 30 years old, and I’ve read enough blogs written by women fighting breast cancer to know that a mastectomy is not a walk in the park. And if I did have it, what did that mean for my sister? For my daughter? It was a lot to digest.

Fortunately, six weeks later, I went back to the doc and she announced that I was perfect. I don’t have the gene mutation. And while this doesn’t mean that I’m not at increased risk (I still have to have that ultrasound every year), it does mean that my ovaries can remain right where they are for the time being.

And I am so glad.

So there you have it, more than you ever wanted to know about my reproductive system. But I wanted to bring up the subject again (I hope you’re not tired of hearing about ovaries, because seriously I am going to keep preachin’!) before the end of ovarian cancer awareness month. Once again, I encourage all of you to visit the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund website and familiarize yourself with the signs and symptoms. It’s so important that you know your body and listen to it.

Thanks for indulging me and my soapbox once again. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

So I may have mentioned once or twice (or 95 times) that I’m a Disney fan. Needless to say, I was so excited when we were asked to help promote Disney on Ice “100 Years of Magic” by giving away tickets here, and as a thank you, Jenny and I were given tickets for our families as well (although Jenny’s sick and couldn’t use them, major bummer!).

In any case, let me say this – tonight we experienced the Disney magic right here in Ohio, and it was fantastic. I absolutely loved the show. The costumes, the music, the characters, the stories – it was all amazing. All of our Disney favorites were there, from Pinnochio to Buzz Lightyear. At one point, all the princesses and their respective princes were on the ice, and I thought Kate and her friend were going to pass out from excitement.

Andy and I had so much fun watching the kids. Kate and her friend squealed with delight every time a new character came on the ice, and it was so cute to hear them call out “Mulan! Mickey! Belle!” At one point during the show, they created a replica of the WDW ride “It’s a Small World,” and Kate yelled out “Thank you Mexican people!” I in equal parts wanted to crack up and crawl under my seat.

Here’s how she looked the entire time:

Sammy loved it too – the kid doesn’t sit still often, but he was totally captivated by the sights and sounds of Disney on Ice.

I seriously loved this show. I may or may not have teared up during “It’s a Small World.” And again during the grand finale.

Disney on Ice “100 Years of Magic” will be in Cincinnati through Sunday, September 27 (with three shows Saturday and two shows Sunday), and if you have little (or big!) Disney fans at home, this show is a must-see. Tickets can be purchased on TicketMaster, and you can get four for $44 by using the coupon code “MOM”. This experience is TOTALLY worth it – seriously, that’s the same price as seeing a movie!

Thanks to Mom Central and Disney on Ice for such a great night!

At least according to my daughter, it has.

I think Super Nanny would actually be proud.

Kate has always had a, ahem, dramatic side, and since she’s gone to kindergarten it’s gotten worse… especially at bedtime. She used to go to sleep like a dream – books, prayers, hugs and kisses and we’re outta there. But for the last month or so, it’s taken us hours to get her to actually go to sleep. She always needs one more drink of water, one more hug, one more stuffed animal.

And the mommy guilt? She lays it on thick. She cries and says she misses me, which hits this working mom where it hurts. So I stay and give her one more drink of water, one more hug, one more stuffed animal. And she knows that.

I had a long talk with some of my best mom friends on Friday, and they confirmed my suspicions.

Girlfriend is playing me like a fiddle.

So I decided that it’s time to get hardcore with her, because not only does it drive me batshit crazy frustrate me, but it needs to stop so she can actually get the sleep she needs.

Fast forward to tonight… we went through the bedtime routine and everything, and then I told her I was going to chat on skype and write a blog post bed. I hugged her and kissed her, covered her up, turned off the lights and shut the door.

And that’s when the drama began.

She fuh-reaked out. She cried and yelled and screamed and then she brought out the big guns.

“My mommy doesn’t love me!”

“I’m sooooo saaaaad because my mommy won’t listen to me and she doesn’t love meeeeeee!”

“I misssssss myyyyyy mommmmmmmyyyyyy!”

She tried to comfort herself. “Don’t cry, Kate, it’s ok.” And then she got practical and started worrying about the future. “How am I going to take care of myself??? How am I going to earn money??? My mommmmyyyyy doesn’t looovvvvvee meeee. She treats me like a dumpster”

At this point I’m transcribing her antics to the girls on Skype, and they’re begging me to get out the video camera. I asked them if it would ruin her life if I blogged about it, and Tricia kindly said, “Does it matter? Sounds like you’ve already ruined it.” Point taken. Blogging it is.

After much coughing and trying to warn us that she couldn’t even breathe, “Can you hear me?? I can’t even say a word!” she came out of her room. I used the Super Nanny method and took her straight back to bed and said “Goodnight, darling” and then left.

She half-heartedly tried to give me another guilt trip, but by that time I think she’d figured out it wasn’t going to work.

All is silent in her room now. I think she’s asleep. Either that or she’s quietly planning my untimely demise.