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Lumps and bumps. They come up every so often. Sometimes they’re caused by falls or accidents. Sometimes they’re caused by disease. I had one. It confused me. It confused my doctors. It freaked me the eff out.

A few weeks ago, I found a lump in my breast. This triggered the natural course of emotions: panic/sadness/denial/gratitude/curiosity/crying/laughter. After a few tests—as well as yoga, prayer, wine and chocolate—the lump turned out to be benign (thankfully). But it was atypical. And since it was atypical, I had to get it removed. This meant surgery.

After seeing a specialist and getting a second opinion, I found myself at Memorial Sloan-Kettering this week for a procedure that would remove the mysterious mass. The lump, which I nicknamed Lupita, was a bit larger than a chickpea. Doctors said Lupita could have hung out in my chest for a while without worry, but she doesn’t pay rent nor does she feel good in my boob so she had to pack her bags and get out.

E was a great nurse. He helped me relax when I was told I need a biopsy. He took me snowboarding during the days after the biopsy so I could refocus on something other than the results. When doctors said the lump was benign, we celebrated over a nice dinner out.

He did, however, ask if this meant that I would be able to get breast implants since they “have to cut ’em open anyway.”

The night before I went in for surgery, I came home to a perfectly clean house and crisp new sheets and fresh pillows on our bed—the perfect post-op sanctuary. Men don’t freak out and cry with women when stuff goes bad. They find solutions, they take action and they crack jokes.

In honor of Lupita’s eviction, I made a series of hummus sandwiches. The base of hummus is chickpeas, so I made a bunch of different hummuses (hummai? what the heck is the plural of hummus?) for snacks while I healed up. Here’s the basic recipe.

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S is well on her way to being a first class street vendor. Like, if this whole writing thing doesn’t work out for her, one day I may be hauling her food cart trailer behind our car every morning to some busy street corner. Which would look rather hilarious…

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