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I got the final results from my doctor about Lupita, that benign yet atypical mass I had removed earlier this month. Turns out, the mass was so atypical, only one other woman in the history of modern breast medicine is documented in medical research as having one treated. Talk about one (or two) in a million.

My doctor told me my special case would likely be discussed at an upcoming medical conference since it was so rare. “Congratulations,” she said, sending me on my way with a hug and a clean bill of health. “I hope I never see you again.” The feeling is mutual, doc.

“Wow,” E said, looking at me when I told him about being so “atypical.” He didn’t say much else about it.  No “glad you’re okay,” not even a thankful hug.

To celebrate me being a rare bird, E and I munched on duck pastrami sandwiches for dinner. E discovered the tasty, sweet cold cuts at Forager’s last week, and we’d been waiting for a good night in to try out a sandwich featuring the meat. I grabbed an Italian loaf, toasted it up, and slathered herbed goat cheese on the bread. “Drizzle some honey on it, maybe?” E suggested. That really kicked up the flavor.

After dinner, we craved hot chocolate, but we were out of milk and it was a bone chilling 10 degrees outside. “I’ll go to the store,” E volunteered without any hesitation. While I cleaned the kitchen and settled to work at my computer, E sprinted to the liquor store and the deli, made the drinks and sauntered into the office with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate spiked with Baileys Irish Creme. He sat his mug next to mine on the desk and smiled.

I know he made the trip outside in the bitter cold not because he wanted hot chocolate. He did it because I wanted it, and he was thankful to have a girlfriend—a healthy, lump-free girlfriend—to want him to make hot chocolate. He’s a man of few words, but his effort to go out for that hot chocolate said more than enough. He was extremely grateful, as was I, that Lupita was a distant memory. We could now worrying about more important things. Like what my next sandwich is going to be.

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This was so, so good. Remember how I said I love duck? Occasionally a fresh reminder is due. Duck duck duck duck DUCK. But duck PASTRAMI? Wow. With goat cheese. You know that goat cheese you can buy in most supermarkets and bodegas that’s rolled in herbs and spices? THAT. Russ & Daughters (if you live in NY) also has the best one that’s a few more bucks …

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