Trick or Treat? Definitely a
Still waiting.
So I didn’t hear anything today, but spent a good bit more time googling, as a result of which I now own about fifty dollars worth of heavy-duty sunblock. And a new hat.
The upshot of all of this is that the chances of a kiddo between 10 and 14 getting melanoma is like 4 in a million, and there aren’t even numbers for kids younger than that, so I’m being completely and entirely irrational.
That being said, I am still a bit on the apprehensive side. Okay, more than a bit on the apprehensive side.
Off to take a valium now. Wait, we don’t have any valium. Shoot. What I need is a cozy, and maybe some chamomile tea. And perhaps a frontal lobotomy.
Is there such a thing as a worry gene? Because I think I got it…
Being a mother is definitely not for sissies. I’ve been terrified for almost 20 years now…about everything. When Jake went blind last fall, I wasn’t even surprised because I was expecting something scary since he was born. Now that’s sick!! Melissa P. S. I still think Abby is a moley girl like Grace and all her moley friends.
Worry comes with the territory.
I remember (when my kids were small) asking my Mom, “When does a Mom get to stop worrying so much? When your children are what age . . . 18, or . . .?”
She said, “I still worry about you.”
We just visited our new grandson, and his (first-time) Mother asked me, “When does this constant worry go away?” 😉
So apparently, you (we all) are doing what we’re supposed to be doing!
Holding all the good (and statiscally supported) thoughts for you and Abby,
Candy
Karen –
Unfortunately, no amount of logic can make the worry go away. But when you find out that there is NOTHING wrong, which you will, don’t let go of the sun block or the hat. My mother had–or, I suppose accurately has–skin cancer, but it was localized and, knock wood, she’s suffered no ill effects since the moles were removed.
Because of my mother’s skin cancer, and because I had sun poisoning twice as a child, I am considered “high risk” and I have gotten my moles mapped and photographed. I wear 45 sun block and a hat when I go out into heavy sun and when I am vacationing I sit under an umbrella, as well. Like taking my epilepsy meds, the sun protection is something that has now become habit.
Of course you are going to worry, but I wanted to tell you that even if, but some REALLY PECULIAR, 1-in-4-million chance, she does have something more serious than a mole, that isn’t necessarily as awful as what we tend to think of when we think of the “c” word.
Please, please let us know!! We’re all pulling for you.
Melissa,
I know. Shouldn’t they pass out pamphlets at the OB/Gyn’s office? I’ve spent my whole life (well, Abby and Ian’s whole lives) just waiting for catastrophe.
Am so relieved I can’t speak.
k
Candy,
That is NOT comforting… but not surprising.
And it moves right on into the next generation, doesn’t it? Thousands of years of anxious mothers…
I often think of how awful it must have been before modern medicine.
Thanks again, Candy…
Karen
Laura,
I am definitely taking the sun protection to heart. I’ve been pretty good so far, but I’m about to get a whole lot better.
We do, after all, live in Broiler Central. And I plan to live well beyond spring-chickenhood.
Thanks so much for your well-wishes, Laura… we can wear sunblock and hats together!
Karen