Showing posts with label I use big words like wheelbarrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I use big words like wheelbarrow. Show all posts

Monday, March 17, 2014

I won't be getting my own X-Title any time soon.

Back when I had my colectomy and all that fun asshole cancer stuff, I also agreed to take part in some genetic research in regards to a condition known as Lynch Syndrome, which I assume has nothing to do with Stephen Lynch.  Initial tests showed a deficiency of a protein called MLH-1.  This deficiency can be an indication that I carry the Lynch Syndrome gene, but it can also be caused by irritable bowel disease, including Crohns and colitis.

I agreed to the testing because for one, INTERESTING; two, I kinda think it'd be cool to be in a medical journal; and three, since Lynch Syndrome can also predispose one to not just gastrointestinal cancers, but uterine and ovarian cancer as well, I thought it'd be handy information to have, being the bearer of a uterus and ovaries and the like.  If found positive, I may find it prudent to no longer be the bearer of a uterus and ovaries and the like.  Meaning I'd have to give some consideration to a hysterectomy, because its damn hard to get cancer in your baby-maker if you ain't got a baby maker.

Besides, I am DONE with the making of babies.  Periods are kind of bullshit, too.  However, early-onset menopause doesn't exactly sound like an island cruise.  Also, I have an irrational fear of developing facial hair.  All is vanity.

So since December I've been waiting on the initial test results from my genetic screening.  The blood test to determine what was causing the MLH-1 deficiency showed that the gene contained a variant, which lies somewhere on the spectrum between a polymorphism, which is your basic, no-big-deal change in the gene, and a mutation, which is pretty much what it sounds like.

So, long story short, results were inconclusive.  I may have Lynch Syndrome, I may not.

Next step is additional testing, which pretty much just involves signing a paper saying they can send a chunk of my tumour sample to Utah, to frolick among the Mormons.  Uhm, I mean, to get tested.  The other option (although its not an either/or) is to test other members of the family who have had colon cancer.  Easier said than done, since the only other family member has been passed on some 23ish years now.  So that will involve some discussion.

So, I'm not a mutant, I don't get my own comic book series and for now I guess the plumbing is going to stick around for a bit until we have some clearer answers.