It's Not a Tumor

Last Monday I did a sporadic breast self-exam.
Found a large, hard patch that was most evident
when I raised my hand above my head.
Had a small, world-freezing moment of panic.

Called the doctor and got an appointment
for the following Tuesday.
As the week progressed,
I did about 50 additional self-exams.
I thought about my mortality.
I chose french fries instead of brocolli
as my side dish, since life is short.

I sat at the bedside of a wonderful woman
only two years my senior,
as she gently died of metastatic breast cancer,
surrounded by family and friends.

I did about 50 more self-exams...
always waiting until I was alone,
although I would have liked to do them more often.
Still there, no change.

Obsessed, prayed, remembered
that I had found a cyst five years before
and that was no big deal.

My doctor expressed doubt
that it was anything serious
after a quick exam,
and then sent me this morning
for a mammogram and sonogram.

Won't go into detail about the
smashing good time I had at the radiology clinic....

Except to say,
I have another cyst.
Happily, they no longer feel a compulsion
to follow such news with a needle.

Women, do your self exams.
Men, do the same for testicular cancer.

Check early, check often.
You never know.