Matching up my genotype

MATCHING UP MY GENOTYPE

My best friend and I often discuss love. Finding the right man, having the right feelings…Typical
ladies discussions. We would joke and reprimand one another for being too choosy and we will
say things like, “Hurry up dear, sha hurry up”. It sank into my subconscious and nagged at me.
Was I being pushy? Have I been too choosy? I would often go over my past relationships and
wonder if I had passed up on one too many proposals. It was eating into my happiness and
eventually I had to stop myself. I sat down and had a long chat with myself. What went wrong
with all of those relationships? Asides the common incompatibility issues, I came up with the
conclusion that I had a smaller pool to fish through (Claim not supported by statistics).
See, I have met a lot of great guys and I have fallen in love a couple of times but let me step out
of my selfish zone for a minute and think of the many friends, acquaintances, wives, husbands,
daughters, sons and loved ones who have suffered at great lengths and have passed away or the
many who are in pain and in fear of more to come. Getting closer to the end with every fight. I
think of the great love my parents had for each other but how that, unfortunately, could not keep
them together to the end.
Sustaining humanity demands a little more from us than mating and breeding. It demands careful
planning and commitment. My heart breaks every time I have to watch my Niece rushed into the
emergency room. From as little as a year old, I would watch her bones go limp and see her roll
about in pain. What killed me was the look of confusion in her eyes. I imagined she wonders why
she can’t get her legs to support her anymore and would often look to us, her protectors, for help
and we were helpless. I remember sitting with her in the hospital one night, I placed her in my
laps, rocked back and forth and just cried along with her. I couldn’t make the pain go away but I
could feel the pain with her.
Moving back into my selfish zone, I decided long ago that I couldn’t do that to my child. I couldn’t
bear the thought that I could have saved her from living this life but of selfish reasons, I decided
to let her through it. I remember years before we found out I had the Sickle Cell, I would have a
run around with my friends at a birthday party, wake up in the night with terrible pains in my leg,
report to my mother and how she would have lots of theories thiplain silly. She would attribute the pains to having had too much sweets and having insisted on
wearing heels (Quite funny, I had a heel-wearing fetish as a little girl).
1 tablet of Panadol would turn to 2, she would call for her trusted “Robb” and give my leg a quick
rub down (Pun intended). She would wrap me up like a burrito and satisfied, she would leave me
to sleep it off. I would lay in my bed quietly, tears streaming down my face and I would distract
my mind off the pain as best as I could, telling myself I shouldn’t have had that slice of cake. I
became quite good at hiding the pain but I can tell you it manifested in my mental health. I would
yell at my siblings, I began to hate myself and I was convinced I was a defective human being.
In Secondary school, I was introduced to sports and I fell in love with it. I was not great at any but
I would stay late in the gym after school and run around shooting hoops. I would feel my legs
burning up if I exerted myself but I loved it too much to care and eventually I stopped having so
much pains. I would later come to find out my genotype when I got admission into the University
and when I found out, I was not shocked, No! I was relived. I was happy to know I was not
exaggerating the pains nor imagining them. I had been abusive to drugs because I would sneak
into my mom’s drug storage and sometimes swallow as many as 6 tablets of Panadol in a
desperate search for some pain relief.
I read up about Genotype matching and I made a promise I would not make that terrible mistake
of a genotype mismatch. I come up as weird to guys when on the first date I ask questions like
“what is your genotype?” It surprises me that in this age and time, a lot of people still reply with,
“I don’t know” or “Those things don’t matter to me”. I don’t fault them for it but I firmly let them
know it does matter to me. My Mother still has difficulties accepting that her kids (My older sister
and I) have the Sickle cell and God forbids you even mention it.
I tell anyone willing to listen that I have the Sickle cell so sometimes, when I would request you
accompany me to the Hospital in the middle of the night and you wouldn’t badger me with
questions while I was trying to keep my mind off the throbbing pains. I would prefer my spouse
made the choice to take me as I am, Caveat and all, and I most certainly would prefer if my kids
didn’t harbor the thoughts that I caused them a life of agony. #knowyourgenotype #breakthesicklecycle

    Written By
  Adetoro Tokunbo.

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