I was writing someone today and said that I miss my tumour. I am glad it’s gone and all but we went through this together and I feel a separation anxiety without him.

I named him,Mr. Lumpy Man, he was on my lower breast and he fit in the palm of my hand when I felt for it. (It felt a lot like my daughter’s butt when I was pregnant and I could feel it outside of my stomach.)

We went through 16 rounds of chemo together and he had shrunk a lot, which I’m glad he got the memo he was being evicted. I just wish I could have seen his remains after he was removed from me.

I asked the surgeon where he was and he kinda sighed. Maybe he’s used to that question or the chemo fried my brain. But he explained so nicely to me that he was chopped up in bits and put on slides and he would remain like that for a year. I didn’t want him to be thrown in the garbage.

I hope someone can relate or I’m going to sound off the rails.