Chemo.
"Oh good, my transformation to alien life form is nearly complete." (A line I LITERALLY said to my surgeon.)
Will I wake up one morning with my eyelashes and eyebrows on my pillowcase? I envision them coming off in one piece, like false eyelashes and two little fake moustaches.
I will need a strategy for windy days. Double stick tape?
After the mastectomy.
What if I bump into something and make a dent in the stuffing on the right side? Will it be like when your zipper's down and someone notices but can't tell you? They keep looking up and avoiding eye contact. I'll have to watch for that.
The tumor.
What if it was caused by underwire bras? Like remember the reports we heard ages ago about dimes causing cancer? Then what if I'm part of a study that results in banning underwires? You're welcome women-of-Earth.
Will they let me keep it? Maybe in a jar on the bookshelf. A little too Howard Hughes?
What if it's one of those stories you hear where the tumor is like another little person with fingernails (I warned you).
Seriously, though it's okay.
Psalm 126: 1-2
When the LORD restored the captives of Zion,
we thought we were dreaming.
Then our mouths were filled with laughter;
our tongues sang for joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
“The LORD had done great things for them.”