Subungal Acral Lentiginous Melanoma?

I've had a gray stripe on my right index finger for the past 2 weeks.  At first I thought maybe I had hit it on something, or maybe it was ink?  But, days passed and it was still there.  And now I have two more wider stripes on my left thumb.

After consulting dr. Google (which I know is very, very dangerous), turns out I may have a very rare form of melanoma called Subungal Acral Letiginous Melanoma.  It is a very aggressive and deadly form of melamona (not related to sun exposure).  It is more prevalent among Asians and African Americans.  Apparently, Bob Marley passed from this cancer at the age of 36 after being misdiagnosed.

Of course, being pregnant with hormones galore, I'm terrified this is what I have.  I brought my nails to my doctor's attention this week,  He didn't seem concerned, but did admit its not a 'normal' pregnancy thing.  I got a referral to a dermatologist, and will hopefully get answers soon.  I'm pretty sure I'm not a good candidate for a biopsy at 8 months pregnant, so I may have to wait for a definitive answer.  Seems like anything else in life, not knowing is the worst!
It's going to be a long 5-6 weeks...

It's been quite a year.

This past year has been tough to say the least.  I suffered a very painful miscarriage, immediately followed by a bout of Bell's Palsy.  I spent the night in the ER while doctors ran a battery of tests to make sure I hadn't suffered a seizure.  The entire right side of my face was paralyzed.  I had already been depressed for a few days following the miscarriage, but now I had literally lost my ability to smile.  The ER doc said, 'pregnancy is a disease', that I may have a blood clotting disorder (which could have caused the miscarriage and stroke).  I spent the next 12 hours not knowing if my brain was permanently damaged.  I reached out to one of my best friends, and she completely let me down.  She couldn't even pick up the phone to see how I was doing.  And my husband was out of town for business for 5 long weeks while this was all happening...

Thankfully, the Bell's Palsy cleared up in 6 weeks (I've read horrible stories of people suffering for years).  Six weeks still felt like an eternity.  I couldn't drive.  I had to manually close my eye all the time or else tape it shut so it wouldn't dry up.  It was painful and damn near impossible to eat as my tongue felt fat and numb like after a trip to the dentist.  The oral steroids made me ravenous, but I couldn't taste anything, bit my tongue half the time, and my jaw wore out quickly.  Drinking out of a cup was impossible.  I had to use a straw, manually closing my lips with my fingers to get enou  My ears were so sensitive.  It was like every sound was amplified through a blow horn.  I never knew my ears could experience such pain.  And, I was tired.  So tired.  I didn't want to go out in public either.  I was a severe side talker, and I had a lisp.  My right eye wouldn't blink either.  I felt like a freak.

Once my husband finally returned home, I fell pregnant again only to miscarry again.  With my husband traveling so much for work, and my ever growing fears of infertility, I was doubtful we'd ever get pregnant again, but miraculously we conceived in October.  And, we finally got a sticky baby.

Celebrating these pregnancies and mourning the subsequent losses has given me a lot of time to think about what it's like to lose a child.  I know I never got to hold my lost babies, but I still feel and mourn their absence.  Now, at 34 weeks pregnant, I really have no idea how a mother could give her child to a stranger (let alone a stranger in another country halfway around the globe) to raise.  I have loved this baby from the moment I got a positive home pregnancy test.  I feared losing her like the others, but now I feel how strong she is, kicking and squirming.  I cannot wait to meet her and love her in all the ways my birth mother couldn't love me.

I've also been dealing with gestational diabetes since week 13 in my pregnancy (tested early due to my 'advanced maternal age').  I have no choice but to put the health of my little one first.  I test my blood sugars 4x/day, eat on a schedule, weigh every protein and carb I eat, inject insulin into my belly every night, walk for 20-30 minutes immediately after every meal to combat rising blood sugars, eat more protein than I thought humanly possible, and choose my carbs very very carefully.  Eating out is impossible, and there is an ever growing list of foods I can't eat.  It's not easy.

Plus, every nurse and doctor asks me if I have a history of diabetes in my family.  I tell them I don't know, that I'm adopted.  I asked my pcp to put that in my file as I'm sick and tired of being asked about my family health history, but apparently medical professionals are too busy to read.  So, I have to repeat this at every appointment (twice a week).  It wears on me.

Anyway, having to think about the health of my baby 24/7 further cements my love and dedication to this life growing inside of me.  My birth mother carried me inside of her for 9 months.  I wonder if she had gestational diabetes.  I wonder if she loved me then like I love my daughter now.  And, I wonder what changed that she couldn't care for me anymore...I'm preventing myself from going down that rabbit hole.  It's just too much to bear.  So, for now, I'm taking this pregnancy one meal, one finger poke, and one insulin injection at a time.

dog is god backwards

seems like such an silly thing, but in many ways it rings true in my life. i'm not a super religious person. i believe in a power greater than myself or anyone else, but i feel most intimate with that power when in nature - not church.

i have a dog. she's amazing. she loves me more than anyone likely ever has or will. she comforts me when i'm sick. she keeps me company when i am blue. she celebrates with me when i'm happy. she is more loyal and generous in spirit than anyone i will ever know.

i often get into funks regarding my status as an adoptee - feeling alone and helpless, sad that my adoptive family is not close, sad that i never really had a father, sad that my mother worked all the time, sad that i'm no longer on speaking terms with my sister - the one person i thought would always have my back in life. i have a very supportive and sympathetic husband, but the one thing that keeps me tethered to this life on earth is my dog. in my darkest moments, when i imagine how easy it would be to give up, she is there to comfort me and give me strength and courage to keep going.

the world is going to end in one and a half years...

this is what my boss keeps saying. he said it to the new hire today - his boss. he just had a baby 6 weeks ago and has a 3-year-old too. he says to hell with recycling. to hell with minimizing plastic use. to hell with minimizing anything harmful to us or the world. so basically to hell with the rest of us. what a freaking nut case.

i'm not sure how long i can work for someone who clearly has such a bleak outlook on life and complete disregard for anyone other that himself and his family.

blood relatives?!

my husband got me a genetic test from 23 and me two years ago. the company has slowly added more test results and features to my account - this last week, i got notification that they have started posting results for likely genetic relationships.

according to 23 and me, i have several 'fifth cousins' out there (aka fourth cousin, once removed). this means 0.11-0.13% of our genes are the same, and we share great great great great grandparents. so, in theory, i could contact these people and start a family tree that might lead me to me biological parents. it seems like an impossible task... am i crazy to think this is a viable way to find my roots??

eta: after reading more closely, a few of the 5th cousins could possibly be 3rd cousins!

happy birthday

my adopted mom's birthday was last month. i'm not too much into birthdays probably because accuracy of my birth date has been in question my whole life. of course i wish my friends and family 'happy birthday' but that's about it.

so, i called my adopted mother to wish her a happy birthday (which if you knew me is a HUGE thing - firstly because i remembered her birthday at all - i am quite terrible at remembering things like that - and secondly because, well, we don't really get along too well, so the idea of calling her is unsettling).

as soon as she answered the phone she went ON AND ON about what my (adopted) brother and sister did for her birthday. my sister drove 6 hours from alameda with her husband and son and helped set up her birthday present (a giant mac computer - a gift from her husband). my brother cooked dinner for her and her friends and family. and me, i just called...

the second i got off the phone, i broke down. angry at my adopted mother for trying to make me feel guilty for not making her birthday a production like my siblings did. angry that she was so fucking insensitive not to realize i might just have issues with helping (especially) her celebrate her very moment of birth. overwhelmed with a feeling of loneliness and resentment.

my birthdays are getting harder to celebrate every year. every year my husband insists on celebrating. every year friends insist on 'grabbing a drink'. and with each year that passes, my birth parents (if they are still alive) are also aging, one year closer to death. and i have one less year to find where and who i came from, one less year to find out my real birthday.

maybe after all i really do care about birthdays.

a new opportunity

i've been looking for a job the past few months without much luck or success.  people aren't hiring and if they are, they want you for pennies on the dollar.  it actually 'pays' to be young and inexperienced in this market - i'm pretty sure i was overqualified for the last job i was turned down from.  

anyway, i applied to this one job on a whim.  it wasn't my 'dream job' but in this economy, any job is a 'dream job' i suppose.  and, at the very least, it's related to my career.  so, the company responded instantaneously to my application.  and after a series of interviews spanning two weeks and more than 10 hours, i've finally been offered the job.  

i suppose i would be crazy not to accept the position.  

working would allow my husband and i to more easily afford a house.  

it would potentially help me feel better connected to the community.  

and it would keep my mind and body occupied.

i've found that left to my own devices, my mind goes to the 'dark places' and forces me to confront all the things i've neglected over the years, especially the things related to my adoption.  these 'dark places' are so scary i've gone to great lengths to avoid them, mostly through over-scheduling myself with work (even work that sucks cause it's easier to be unhappy with a job than have to deal with anything 'real').  

i've been without a 'real job' for 7 months.  the 'dark places' are still there, but they're no longer pitch black or thick as tar.  

they're more gray and fluid and not nearly as scary. 

i'm no longer afraid to be unemployed or without a crazy schedule.

i'm no longer afraid of the quiet and still places.  

the 'old me' would have jumped on the job - it's no wonder i've had so many bad ones...  

this 'new me' can take the time to see the job as more than just filled time and space.  

granted, the crap economy will likely factor in my decision, but at least it's not about running from myself.