I've got this lump in my armpit.
Which I immediately assume is non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, because, well, folks, once you have had a terminal disease, you know you can have a terminal disease, and even though my thyroid cancer didn't actually kill me, yet, that tiger got loose, and it never did get caged again.
So I went to my PCP on Friday, who is very sweet with me. (I take her all my lumps. The last one was a lump on my hand that is, you'll be glad to know, just a ganglia, and won't kill me. You get these from typing too much. Say, from writing five books in one year. Hmm.) She told me she didn't think it was anything to fret over, but then she scheduled like fifteen tests (okay, 3) so you know what I did all weekend: researched all the terminal diseases I was probably going to die of over the next six months.
I had the last two tests today (mammogram and an ultrasound) and the guy saidthey were (and this is ABSOLUTELY my least favorite word in the fucking language) inconclusive.
He doesn't think the lump is anything to worry about though.
He's not worried.
Why the fuck would he be?
17 hours ago