Backstory: SS has occasionally complained about "his heart." That is, that when he runs a lot (he is very athletic) he gets out of breath and gets palpitations. He told both his mom and his dad. BM had done nothing about it. DH was worried -- so he asked a friend who does mobile ultrasound to ultrasound the heart. The result was:

3 leaky vales and thickening of the mitral valve flap.

A doctor read the results and said that the 3 leaky valves are "not an immediate concern." However, the thickening of the mitral valve is abnormal for SS's age. So that Dr referred DH to take SS to his regular pediatrician as a follow-up.

Yesterday, DH (with BM meeting them there) took SS to his pediatrician (the one thing they've ever done together for their children). DH and BM have been referred to take SS to a pediatric heart specialist who will order a gammit of tests to determine what, if anything, should be done.

Understandably, DH is freaking out. He's crying and having anxiety attacks. He is automatically thinking the worse -- that SS is going to need surgery and that SS won't be able to play sports anymore.

.....

I'm having a hard time even writing this, because it is just indicative of what a monster I really am, but here goes:

I don't really care.

I mean, it's interesting news and all. However, I feel about it the same as I would feel if I found out someone I'd never met was having the problem. Or, more like if a neighbor was having the problem. You know, someone I see occasionally, but don't really associate with a whole lot, so there is no emotional involvement.

It's not that I wish the kid ill. I don't. Not even in the slightest. I'm not THAT kind of monster.

I'm sorry for DH -- that he's taking it so hard and having such a difficult time processing the news. However, even watching my husband cry (which I've never seen before) is more of a curiosity to me than anything. I'm not even moved by his tears and his fear for his own child.

I am finding that I have to force myself to ask him questions about the situation, just so that it will look like I care. I recognize and understand the gravity of the situation. I can appreciate his fear.

But, well, *shrug*

I guess the hard reality is that I'm the kind of step-monster that feels... nothing... for her skids.

I used to care. Holy shit did I use to care, but I've been abused; scapegoated; ignored; humiliated; and flagrantly disregarded by the skids, my "D"H and his family, and by BM.

The natural consequence is that now what I've got left for these people is: nothing.

Only the other step-moms on here can understand what I mean by that.

At least I'm hoping so.

P.S. I am so grateful for this site, because it gives me an outlet to be able to actually SAY something like that. To get it out. It's been eating at me.