“Mom,” he said. “I’m going to the cemetery this weekend. To talk to Dad. To apologize.”
“He’d tell you there’s nothing to apologize for.”
“I know,” Daniel said. “That’s what makes it worse.”
Then they put the mask over my face and asked me to count backward from ten.
I got to seven.
When I woke up, it was dark outside. My stomach felt flat and sore and strange. Like a house after the furniture’s been moved out.Study Anatomy
Dr. Osei was standing beside the bed.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” he said. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“The surgery went well. We removed the cyst and your left ovary. It weighed twenty-six pounds.”
“Twenty-six pounds,” I repeated.
“The heaviest one I’ve removed this year,” he said, and I swear he sounded a little proud.
“Is it—”
“The pathologist did a quick look during surgery. It appears to be what we call a mucinous cystadenoma. That’s a benign tumor. The final report will take a few days, but I’m very hopeful.”
