“Your tumor is about the size of a watermelon,” my oncologist said.
I had met him just five minutes earlier. I was sitting in an ER hallway, waiting to be told when I would have surgery to remove the watermelon-sized tumor.
“The good news is, tumors this large are rarely cancerous,” he added.
Famous last words.
Two days later, I woke up from a surgery in which my oncologist removed an eight-pound tumor and one of my ovaries. It was cancer. I lost nearly three pints of blood during the operation, along with the life I had previously known.
