A few months ago, my right breast was dabbed and smeared with a brown liquid that I now know is povidone-iodine (thanks Google), though no one explained that to me at the time. It was part of the preparation I underwent for a biopsy on a mass of tissue found during my annual well woman exam and deemed suspicious by an ultrasound two weeks later.

Every week she asked me how I felt and every week, while, in general things were “fine,” I always told her there was almost always a day, or a couple of hours a day, where despondence grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. It was as if someone, something, was wrestling me and trying to get me to give in, to tap out. We were in different weight classes though. I was the lightweight and the despondence was the heavyweight and I didn’t have any agility or tricks up my sleeve to counteract the weight disparity between us.