by Madam Z
I kept ignoring the lump in my right breast, thinking it would go away eventually. One evening, I started to cut a lime in half, preparing to make myself a vodka gimlet, and I thought to myself – the lump in my breast is the size of this lime – and my hand went directly to my breast to check the accuracy of the estimate. I tossed back a couple of shots and put it out of my mind for the time being, but a few weeks later I realized that the lump had grown to the size of a lemon. The bigger it grew, the more determined I was that if I could just forget about it, it would go away; but before long it was the size of an orange. I was getting more and more frightened, but I didn’t go to a doctor until it felt like a grapefruit was embedded in my chest. By then it was too late, of course, and now I’m lying here with no breasts (they took both of them), no hair (thank you, Chemo), radiation burns on my neck and chest, about to throw up for the fourth time this morning, and wishing I had never even heard of citrus fruit.
Madam Z, whose full catalog is here, loves six and isn't afraid to admit it. Do yourself a favor and check out her blog.