#benign breast lump

[dimhortons]

Feels good to not be uncomfortable with my boobs again and actually think they're cool as hell

[robbiedaymonds]

i just need someone to tell me i’m not dying and i’ll be okay

[louhearted]

not so ironically considering deferring my master to next year. like i really really do not want to and deep down i know i’ll regret it but also i cannot for the life of me concentrate on anything and my one prof keeps mentioning the option to defer at the end of every email and like. stop dangling it in front of my face. i can DO THIS. i can. I CAN.

[soulpoweredvocalist]

i hate having death related ocd

[drrajinderkaursaggu]

How are benign breast diseases diagnosed?

Diagnosing benign breast diseasesinvolves:

Clinical Breast Exam: A healthcare provider checks for lumps and abnormalities.

Imaging Studies: Mammography, ultrasound, and MRI detect abnormalities.

Biopsy: Fine Needle Aspiration, Core Needle Biopsy, or Surgical Biopsy obtain tissue samples.

Cyst Aspiration: Draining fluid from cysts confirms their benign nature.

Ductogram: Injecting contrast into milk ducts helps detect abnormalities.

Clinical History and Risk Assessment: Understanding a patient's history and risk factors guides diagnostics.

Consulting a healthcare provider is crucial for personalized diagnostic recommendations. Regular breast health check-ups ensure early detection and effective management of benign breast diseases.

For expert breast care, consult Dr. Rajinder Kaur Saggu, a renowned Breast Surgeon in Delhi. Schedule your appointment today for personalized and comprehensive breast health solutions.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Bucket List || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: Life changes in the blink of an eye with a diagnosis and you are forced to face your mortality with the help of Charles Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, grief, implied character death.

WC: 5.8k

Story || Death Scene || Two Years Later || Bucket Moments || Five Years Later

The winter break was meant to be a time for Charles to relax but one simple act had put an end to those plans. It had been a little joke between lovers while you were getting dressed. Charles had seen an opportunity and taken it, cradling the swell of your breast in his palm and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Honk, honk!”

You gasped at the sudden pain that flared and rubbed at the aching area. Charles was immediately sorry, apologising profusely as he brushed your hand aside and massaged it gently for you.

“It’s ok, Cha, this one’s been a bit tender lately.”

“What do you mean?” His concern was palpable and his hand flattened so the palm was pressing into your flesh. You couldn’t hide the wince at the spot he touched and he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

“What?!” You stepped away and grabbed your breast, almost immediately feeling what he felt as your heart began to hammer hard in your chest. “It’s probably nothing, boobs are lumpy all the time.”

“Yeah…” he murmured distractedly. “We should probably check just to be sure. Right?”

You tried to nod casually but it was too hurried. “I mean, just to be sure.”

Everything moved quickly after that. The exhaustion was no longer jet lag. The low red blood count was no longer anaemia. The lump was no longer just fatty tissue.

“What happens now?”

You looked at your boyfriend, but his eyes were fixed on the doctor who had been explaining the test results. Charles had done all of the talking while you sat in a state of shock. You didn’t even feel like you were inside your own body but floating somewhere in the room and watching from outside.

“We could take a biopsy to be certain but the tests so far are quite conclusive and I wouldn’t recommend waiting. We could fit you in to remove the tumour in the next couple of days and have you home for Christmas.”

You knew this already. He had spoken about removing the lump. You couldn’t bring yourself to call it a tumour because, benign or malignant, it made it too real. Removing the lump was the extreme simplification of what he really meant. Mastectomy. Double to be precise. The risk was too great to leave the other breast untreated, apparently.

“We’ll take the surgery as soon as possible.”

You blinked at Charles, waiting to see if he would even look in your direction before making such a decision but his chin was resting on the tip of his steepled fingers. He leaned forwards, digging his elbows into his knees as he always did when he was deep in thought.

“No,” you rasped. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” Charles replied without even looking at you. He had hardly looked your way since the first appointment a week ago.

“I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Doctor Hall said softly as he rose from his chair and left the room, the click of the door closing too loud in the heavy silence.

“It’s my body, Charles,” you whispered, your throat too hoarse to manage anything louder.

“I know that, but this is your life we are talking about.”

“We don’t even know for certain that it’s…that it’s…”

“It’s cancer,” he said with a sigh, “not saying it doesn’t change the test results.”

Your eyes burned, your tear ducts working overtime all week. The harsh lines on Charles’ face softened as he saw them well on your waterline before spilling over. Pulling you into his lap, he cradled your head to his chest as you ruined yet another one of his shirts with your makeup and tears.

“Mon amour, we will get through this but we have to trust the doctors.”

“I won’t have boobs,” you whispered as your voice broke.

Charles curled his finger under your chin and tipped it back as he searched your eyes for the answer. He found what he was looking for and dropped his forehead to yours with a shake of his head. “You will still be the most beautiful woman in the world. And I need you in the world, mon amour, do you understand that? I need you to fight this.”

A few days turned out to be just one after the oncology department received a large, anonymous donation. The private room in the hospital was filled with bouquets from friends and family, their floral scents were almost able to erase the tart smell of bleach. You still felt numb to the entire experience and Charles watched on with concern as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Your reflection was the same, yet it wasn’t. Permanent marker pen lined the skin that would soon be permanently marred. The outlines accentuated what would be taken from you and you turned to your side profile, trying to imagine waking up without the pieces of your body Charles had loved.

“The surgeon said there are options, if it’s really that important to you,” Charles said as he pushed off the doorway he had leaned against and walked into the room. “But you don’t have to think about that now.”

You let him drape the surgical gown over your arms and they fell limp at your side while he tied the bows to keep your modesty. “Come and lay down with me,” he murmured as he took your hand and led you to the bed. You hadn’t been sleeping well, neither of you had.

It was narrow but Charles made space for you to lay in his arms with his chest pressed to your back. Monaco was alive outside the window you faced but the sounds didn’t reach you. Instead of watching the cars on their journeys you turned your eyes up to the cloudless sky and spotted the gulls that danced in the salt air.

“I lo-.”

Charles’ chest shuddered with the breath he took before he kissed your temple and whispered, “Don’t.”

“I need to tell you.”

“We promised, not until you wake up.”

“But what if I-”

“Don’t,” Charles begged, a wet drop falling into your hair. “Please.”

A knock sounded at the door but you kept your eyes firmly only the white feathers of the bird that landed on your windowsill outside. Charles pressed his lips to your temple once more before releasing you from his hold and climbing off the bed.

“I’ll be right there when you wake up, mon amour.”

“I…I’ll see you soon.”

He smiled sadly as you caught yourself from saying what you wanted to say, that sad smile remaining while your bed was wheeled away. You craned your neck as you were taken further down the hall, wanting to memorise the way he looked in case it was the last time you had the chance.

As promised, you woke up bleary eyed and groggy to those gold and green eyes, his hands holding yours tenderly as he sat beside your bed.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted as his smile brightened your day. It was a true smile, one you hadn’t seen for over a week, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed the dimples in his cheeks. “I love you.”

You felt drunk as the anaesthesia still circulated your body and you were sure you slurred the words you had been banned from telling him before. “I love you.”

You dozed in and out of consciousness until the pain relief began to wear off and breathing itself hurt. The bandages across your chest irritated your skin and the stitches pulled with every little movement. Charles noticed it all.

“I’ll see if they can give you anything for the pain.”

You caught his hand before he could leave and winced as the IV line in your hand tugged uncomfortably. “I’m hungry.”

Charles chuckled, knowing you would be after eating nothing before the surgery, and cradled your cheek gently. “Maman’s on her way with your favourites. I’ll be right back, baby.”

Charles arrived back with a large bag of hot dishes from your favourite restaurants around the city and the promise that the nurse would bring some medicine around soon. 

“We’ll have someone come and move you up to the ward shortly,” the kind nurse said after she had given you another dose of pain relief. “You’ll be able to see your visitors there.”

You thanked her since you knew your parents would have been waiting with Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo too. Charles had been keeping them updated since you woke up and his phone was constantly going off with notifications from your friends. 

“How are you feeling?”

You placed your fork down into the empty bowl and Charles whisked it off your lap and tidied up the rubbish with the need to keep himself busy. “I don’t know,” you admitted as your head began to clear from the anaesthesia. “Two weeks ago we were partying in Baku and now we’re here. I still don’t know how this even happened. What if they made a mistake? This was all done so quickly.”

Charles carefully tucked the sheet back around your body after helping you to lie back down. “Mon amour, this is one of the best hospitals, they wouldn’t have done this unless it was the right decision for your health.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know how to feel anything right now, except confusion.” You took his hand as he sat back into the chair beside your bed and kissed his knuckles. “How do you feel?”

“Me?” His brows pinched together as if he hadn’t been thinking for himself, and he really hadn’t. All of his thoughts and feelings had been focused on you. “I’m relieved, I suppose. You are here, I get to kiss you and hold your hand. That is good.”

You smiled at the hope in his voice. “I don’t remember a kiss.”

“Ah,” he hummed with a nod as he leaned closer until his lips were so close you could feel the heat of them as he whispered, “This one.”

You were warned that day two would be the hardest. The hard drugs had worn off and what you were supplied with took away the dull throbbing ache when you were stationary but did nothing to prevent the sharp pain of moving. 

Charles had just lifted you back into bed after helping you go to the bathroom when the surgeon arrived with a forlorn look on his face. Immediately you felt the air leave the room.

Doctor Hall started with the good news, that the surgery went as planned with minimal bleeding from the tissue removal, but then there was a pause. Your fingers tightened around Charles hand as the doctor flipped the piece of paper on his clipboard over and clicked the end of his pen. 

“When we began the removal of the tumour we found that the shape wasn’t exactly as we expected from the ultrasound.” He drew an oval shape on the paper before adding webs spindling off in all directions and pointing to them. “We removed as many of the tentacles as we could find but they are invasive and so we would like to start chemotherapy as soon as you have recovered from the operation.”

Charles' knee shook the bed as it bounced nervously. “Chemo?”

“Does this mean it is definitely c-cancer?” you stumbled over the word as you said it aloud for the first time.

The doctor nodded. “We were quite sure before but pathology confirmed it with the sample we sent.” 

“What about Christmas?” you asked. “Can I still go home for Christmas?”

The doctor nodded again and you exhaled in relief. Christmas had been organised to be held at your house for months and it would give you a chance to do something normal after your life had been thrown off the rails. You needed this Christmas. 

“We will schedule you in for after New Years, but you wouldn’t want to delay it much further than that.”

“Thank you,” Charles choked out for the both of you as you fell silent and he left. “What are you thinking so hard about, beautiful?”

“The menu. It needs to be special. And I want to invite everyone.”

“What, slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Christmas, Cha, I need to start planning now.”

Charles knew you were deflecting, pouring yourself into a future task so you didn’t have to think about the present. You had already gone through enough, so he bit his tongue and took a second to clear the thoughts he wanted to voice. Instead, he asked, “who, exactly, is everyone?”

“Slow down, you’re meant to be relaxing,” Charles warned as you rushed around the house for a last minute tidy up. “Don’t hurt yourself, baby, let me help.”

“I love you, but please leave this to me. I know where everything is.”

“I do too,” he exclaimed, falling silent when you picked up a remote that had stopped working. You had asked him to get the batteries for it the night before, but he hadn’t been able to find them. 

“Second drawer in the kitchen,” you said as you tossed it to him and folded the blanket you snuggled under with him every night. “But you knew that right.”

He sent you a charming smile as he backed out of the room. “Of course, honey.”

You chuckled at his retreating figure. “Thought so.”

You had just finished lighting the scented candles around the house when the front door opened and Arthur breezed into the living room. 

“Merry Christmas, ma chére. Shouldn’t you have your feet up?” he tutted as he kissed your cheeks, careful not to hug you since your chest still hurt. 

“Merry Christmas, Tuthur.” His smile lifted at the old nickname and it only grew as you said, “You know how well your brother cooks. Be glad I don’t have my feet up.”

Everyone arrived steadily after Arthur and as the night grew colder every seat in the living room was taken by your guests. You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas as you sat on Charles lap and listened to Joris recount how he had spent the winter break so far.

You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas, but it wasn’t.

You were self-conscious in a way you never were before. The dresses you had loved so much were now something you couldn’t bear to wear as it accentuated the changes in your body. You had taken one shopping trip with Pascale so you could buy some presents but by the time you had got home there was a photo circulating the F1 WAG pages. The comments had nearly made you sick as they compared your flat chest to that of a young boy, or joked that the championship wasn’t the only thing that was lost at the end of the season. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out but you doubted they would feel any remorse, anyone who could say such things through a keyboard didn’t have the emotional capacity to feel guilt. 

When midnight came and went, so too did the guests. Tipsy and jolly, they said their goodbyes and well wishes until the house fell quiet except for the music playing softly from the speakers. Charles pulled you into his arms and gently rocked you side to side as you laid your head on his chest. “Merry Christmas, mon amour. I didn’t know what to get you this year, so I was absolutely selfish and got this.”

Charles stepped out of your embrace as he dropped to one knee and held a ring out. Similarly designed to his mother’s, the ring was timeless and elegant with a large princess cut diamond. “Will you make me the happiest man and marry me?”

You had waited years for the question but the answer that fell from your lips went against every fibre of your being. Your hands covered your mouth but there was no silencing the words as they hung in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Confusion slapped Charles’ pink cheeks and he swallowed twice before his voice could work again. “Why not?”

“You know why,” you whispered. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Because I’m sick, and I don’t want to make plans if I’m not going to be there to…I just don’t think now is the right time.” You took the ring from his fingers and sighed with longing. “It’s beautiful, Char.”

“Hold on to it for me,” he said as he stood up and closed your hand around it. “When you beat this, I’ll be waiting, mon amour, however long it takes. I’ll wait for you.”

You held the ring tight as you closed the distance and put all the words and emotion you couldn’t articulate into a kiss, deepening it until you were breathless and needy. “Come to bed,” you breathed against his lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked pained by the very idea, or maybe it was the weeks of celibacy after your surgery.

Lacing your fingers together, you took a step towards the stairs and gently tugged him to follow. “You could never hurt me.”

The moment had been weeks in the making as the chemotherapy took its toll on you. For days after the treatment you had been ill and Charles had been at your side with a bowl ready for when you emptied the contents of your stomach. Then your muscles ached and you could barely hold your own weight up to walk. Just when you thought the worst had come to pass you felt the first strands come loose.

“Hello, my dear,” Pascale answered your call, only to be met with a hiccup. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“M-my hair,” you stammered as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Charles had been out shopping but you saw his face appear behind you as you turned to show him what filled your gripped fist. “It’s my hair.”

“I’ll be over shortly, just let me lock up the shop,” Pascale soothed before ending the call.

“I just brushed it,” you hiccuped as you touched your hair again, more of it floating to the tile floor. “It won’t stop.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured as he took your hand and brushed the hair from your palm. “Maman will know what to do. We’ll get through this like we have everything else, together.”

Pascale promised she could have a wig made for you if you wanted one but it was already late in the evening and you knew she was exhausted from working all day. You did however accept her offer to shave the rest of your head so at least the patches of missing hair didn’t stand out as much. Charles had sat with you in the bathroom and held your hand the entire time before asking his mother to shave his next.

“No, I love your hair,” you argued as he pulled his shirt over his head to save it from getting covered in the short dark strands.

“I told you we are doing this together,” he replied as he kissed your knuckles and nodded to his mum to proceed.

It took a while to get used to the smooth feel of skin on your head but you came to prefer it to the wig that Pascale crafted, somehow finding hair that was almost the exact same shade and texture to your natural hair. The moment you got home from any outing you would pull the wig off with a grateful moan just as you used to do with your bra.

“Are you going to be alright? Maman said she can come and stay with you.” Charles sat on his suitcase so he could zip it closed before looking up to where you sat in bed with a book on your lap. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “It’s only for two nights.”

His team had let him get away with having one extra night at home before going to Bahrain for the 2024 pre-season testing, but it was still too long away from you in his eyes. You would have been with him but you were due some follow up tests.

“You’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to miss me,” you teased, spurring him to climb onto the bed and cage you beneath him.

“I miss you every second we are apart.”

You recognised the number calling your cell phone because you still had nightmares from the last time they rang. A pit of dread was already opening in your gut as you hovered your finger over the green button. You debated not answering the call but if you didn’t answer it then he would try Charles’ number next - and he needed to focus on driving.

You wished you never answered the call.

You had been quiet the entire drive from the airport to the hotel Charles was staying at. He wasn’t one to push you to talk before you were ready but he was certainly worried when he reached across the gearbox and placed his hand on your lap. He spared a glance to you as he gently squeezed your thigh but still you didn’t react, or take his hand, or even blink.

You didn’t remember the walk from the car to the hotel room. You were busy thinking about how you were going to break Charles’ heart, something you had never imagined you would have a hand in. You never wanted to hurt him, you loved him more than life itself, a life that was going to be shorter than you had once thought.

Charles stood quietly in the doorway to the bedroom, your suitcase still in his hand. He watched as you pulled your wig off for the first time since leaving Monaco and listened as you sighed heavily. His feet only carried him closer when you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and held it out silently.

“What’s this?” Charles asked as he unfolded the note you had written on the plane. You had almost 10 hours to think of everything you wanted to do while you could and his eyes scanned over the list. “Baby, what is this?”

“It’s my bucket list.”

“A bucket list?”

“It’s a list of what I want to do before I die.”

“I know what a bucket list is!” He took a breath and ran his hand over the fuzz that had grown back on his scalp before lowering his voice as he shook the paper. “Why am I holding yours?”

His green eyes blurred with tears as you bit your lip and looked at your feet. He was already shaking his head in denial, wet droplets soaking into the list.

“My results came back…”

“Non, non, baby, non…”

“I’m sorry, Charles,” you choked as he fell to his knees and let the paper fall to the floor. His arms encircled your hips and you cradled the back of his head to your stomach as he cried against you. You finally let your own tears fall, the tears you had held back since you received the news. “I’m so sorry.”

Charles missed testing the next morning as he held you in his arms. The tears had long run out but the sadness still remained. He had laid with you all night as close as your bodies would allow and together you had seen the sunrise over the desert. He had listened to you quietly recount the doctor’s words but most of it made no sense to him. 

Metastasized. Stage four. Terminal. The information ruined him.

“How long?” he finally asked. He looked at the paper that was still on the bedroom floor before clearing his throat and trying again. “How long do we have?”

You didn’t know if answering him would help or not but he was waiting for an answer as you rolled over to face him. The last three months had taken a toll on him and dark circles rimmed his eyes and they no longer held the same brightness. They were only going to dim more at the news. “Six months, maybe a year.”

He was silent, but you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Emotions warred behind his eyes before he climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

You hated the silence but the screaming was worse. The painful wail echoed around the room and you felt it shatter something deep in your chest, before something shattered in the bathroom.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you held yourself together while Charles fell apart.

You weren’t sure how long he screamed at the universe, how many times he asked it why, what he had done to deserve to lose someone else he loved. You weren’t sure how long it took him to clean the blood from his fist and wash his face of the tears before he unlocked the door and slipped back into the bed.

“Whatever you want, mon amour,” he promised as he unclenched your hands and curled his body around yours. “Anything you want to do, we’ll do it. We’ll do it all together.”

You stood at the edge of the lookout and smiled at Charles as he took the photo, another one for the memory box you were making together. Charles kept his promise, taking you everywhere around the world with him to tick off the items on your bucket list.

You had watched him win his home race for the first time and gone to a couples cooking class.

You visited all the Disneyland Theme Parks you hadn’t been to before: the Tokyo one when he raced in Suzuka, the Chinese one when he raced in Shanghai and the Floridian one when he raced in Miami. 

Charles had taken you to Iceland to camp under the northern lights and to Pamukkale in Turkey where the blue waters were meant to work miracles. It hadn’t cured the illness that ravaged your body but each activity you crossed off cured some of the sadness in your soul.

“It’s bigger than I imagined,” Charles commented as he looked up at Christ the Redeemer. “What size shoes do you think he wears?”

“Well you know what they say about big feet.”

Charles’ head fell back with a laugh. “You cannot say that about Jesus.”

You fluttered your eyelashes innocently as he stepped closer to take a photo of you together. “I was going to say he wears big socks, get your head out of the gutter.”

“Of course you were, mon amour.” Charles’ lips curled up in amusement and you relished the way his eyes crinkled before you rose onto your toes so you could kiss him before the smile faded. 

The flash of his camera captured the moment and you reluctantly pulled away as the sun began to set on another day spent living. The days were getting tiresome, your energy flagging as the medication changed from treating the illness to managing the pain. You had read enough to know that time was running out.

“We should get going, don’t want to miss our flight to Vegas.”

“About that…” he trailed off as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it in your hand. “I made a list of my own.”

Marry the woman of my dreams.

“I can only do it with you by my side.”

—

Pascale had created a beautiful headpiece for your wedding but when it came time to leave you hadn’t been able to place it on your head. A year ago you had only dreamt of the day you married Charles and in all those imagined scenes you had your hair styled up like she had crafted on the wig with pearl pins and a delicate tiara. But a lot had changed in a year, you had changed. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you look beautiful,” she said as she wiped her eyes. Your own mother was speechless as she pulled you into her arms and held you tight.

“I’m going to ruin my makeup if you two don’t stop crying.”

“Honey, let her go,” your dad said softly as he placed a hand on your mother’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

Your throat felt as if it were closing and for a second you held on tighter before you both opened your arms. “I love you,” you said to them all as you looked at the proud but sad smiles on their faces. “Thank you for making this possible, for both of us.”

Your father grabbed the wheelchair you had been using, the exhaustion sometimes too much for you to handle, but you shook your head. “I’m going to marry him on my own two feet.”

You knew Charles had a lot of help organising the wedding because there was no way he could have done it on his own. The entire paddock had come to a standstill at the end of Media Day and you found yourself walking down a makeshift aisle on the grid to the starting lights. 

Hundreds of friends joined your families on the track and you had no doubt that Charles had flown them all there at his own expense. 

“When you said married in Vegas, I thought you meant the White Chapel,” you whispered with a giggle.

Charles' smile grew at the sound and he took your hands in his. “That’s something tacky Pierre would do.”

“Hey,” the groomsman objected beside Charles. “Elvis isn’t tacky. Focus on your own wedding, mate.”

You laughed at the exchange before Lorenzo cleared his throat and your eyes widened as you realised he was the celebrant. “Is this legal?”

“The online certificate I got says so,” he said with a wink. “But if you’ve changed your mind I can skip the legal bits.”

Your eyes lit up with amusement. “No way, I’m not going to miss having you as a brother-in-law.”

“And I thought we were here because you wanted to marry me,” Charles joked. He had waited so long to marry you but now that the moment was here he was in no rush for it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, where you were lighthearted and smiling. Where you weren’t lost in thought but present in the moment, with him. 

“I do,” you said with a grin before peeking back at his older brother. “Does that count, can I kiss him now?”

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not quite, shall we get started?”

Charles could hardly keep still with his excitement. “Ready, baby?”

You reached into a hidden pocket in the dress and pulled out the engagement ring he proposed at Christmas with. Slipping it into your finger, you gave him a serious nod. “Now I am.”

—

“Good morning, Mrs Leclerc.”

You smiled as Charles kissed your shoulder blade and rolled you over to face him. He had already showered and dressed for the day before climbing back into bed with you and you peeked at the clock to see he would almost be late. 

“You should be at the track already,” you hummed between the sweet kisses he peppered across your skin. 

“Wasn’t going to miss watching you wake up as my beautiful wife for the first time.” His smile wavered as he kissed your forehead before pressing the back of his hand to it. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but last night was worth the lack of sleep.”

He smirked and traced your lips longingly with his eyes. “Definitely worth it. But you don’t feel hot or cold?”

“Focus on FP1, Cha,” you said with a little push for him to get out of bed. “You’re going to be late.”

He playfully nipped your collarbone before getting off the bed and blowing you a kiss. “Rest up, mon amour, I’ll come back between the practices.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, more than the moon and the stars.”

“Hopeless romantic.”

“Love of my life. Fire in my loins. The apple of my-“

“Go away!” You tossed a pillow at him before falling back into the warm blankets with a laugh that turned to a yawn. “Profess your love to someone else and let me sleep.”

“Never,” he chuckled quietly as he watched your chest rise and fall into a steady rhythm. “It will only be you.”

Your health deteriorated rapidly after Vegas and your doctor urged you to return to Monaco, but you weren’t ready to leave just yet. There was only one thing left on your bucket list and it was within your grasp. Charles and Max were neck and neck in the championship but you had faith your husband would triumph in the end. So instead of heading home you remained by his side in Qatar and Abu Dhabi, letting him hire a medical team as a trade off for ignoring your doctor's advice.

It wasn’t just the season coming to an end and you could both feel it as Charles prepared for the final race. You didn’t have the strength to go to the track and see him start from pole, the prime position for the championship deciding race. You barely had the strength to stay awake for the whole race but you fought against the heaviness in your body and scanned the screens that had been brought into your room.

Pride made you heart light as you watched the world through Charles’ eyes. The onboard camera was clear ahead, all his competitors in his rear view, and as the laps passed by his lead grew wider. Charles was flying and he was taking you with him.

Charles took a seat on the centre podium as confetti rained down and fireworks exploded overhead. He wiped the sweat and champagne from his face before reaching into his race suit and grabbing the pen and paper he had tucked away.

Putting a strike through the last line he held it up triumphantly to the camera. “We did it, mon amour, we did it.”

You smiled as if he would see it and closed your eyes as you lost the battle. “I’m ready to go home now.”

The Bucket List:

Sleep under the northern lights 

Swim with sharks

Skinny dip (not with sharks)

See Christ the Redeemer

Bowl a strike

Go to every Disneyland once

Ride an elephant

Go to India for the colour festival 

Win an escape room

Learn to whistle 

Have a mud bath

Teach Charles to cook

Watch the Grand National horse race

Get a tattoo

Learn to use chopsticks

Throw beads at Mardi Gras 

Have my palm read

Try absinthe 

Ride a luge

Go to a rage room

Join the mile high club 

Catch a fish

Make a will

Bathe in healing waters 

Charles Leclerc - World Champion

Click here for the requested last day alive.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

The idea of finding a lump in your breast is scary. If this ever happens to you, you may panic and think about cancer - so let’s talk about what to do if this happens. 

It may feel like a hard irregular mass. Or you may feel like there’s a pea or a marble under your skin. Or maybe one area of your breast feels thickened (or just different) from the rest of it. Maybe it isn’t directly a lump but you feel like one breast, or a part of it, changed in size or color, looks dented or looks red/inflamed… in any of these cases, the first step you wanna take is a no-brainer:

You call your doctor, tell them what’s up and ask for an appointment. (This should ideally be a gynecologist, because they’re the experts on breast cancer. But if it’s difficult to get an appointment there or you feel more comfortable going to your primary care doctor, you may also call them first. They will send you on to a gynecologist if they consider it necessary.) 

The most important second step is: calm down. 

At first glance “calm down” may seem like bad advice here. Fear can be a helpful emotion because it motivates you to do the right thing in potential dangerous situations, and worrying about cancer when you find a lump in your breast is a good example for that - you need to worry about it, so you’ll take it seriously and get it checked out! An early diagnosis and quick treatment can save lives. 

But after you already took the right step and called your doctor, when all that’s left to do is waiting for your appointment, panicking is no longer helpful. The best thing you can do now is trying to stay calm and optimistic. Some facts that may help: 

If you are below 40, and especially if you are below 30, remember that breast cancer is considered possible but rare in your age group. (Important: this is not a free pass to just ignore breast changes! Get them checked out anyway! But it can be comforting to know that it’s not statistically likely that you’ll get a cancer diagnosis when getting them checked out.)

Regardless of age, even if you are above 40, know that there are plenty of other, more harmless explanations for breast changes, including lumps. Again, this doesn’t mean “don’t take it serious”, but it’s good to keep in mind while waiting for your doctor appointment: it could be something as simple as natural changes in your hormones (for example related to your period or to menopause), it could be a fibroadenoma (a benign lump that is completely harmless but can be surgically removed if it bothers you), it could be a simple cyst, it could be the result of a small injury you don’t even remember happening, it could even be a skin infection … 

About 20% of all lumps turn out to be cancer. That means that the chances are good that your doctors appointment will bring the relieving news that you don’t have it! Don’t think of it as “I definitely have cancer and need to go to the doctor because of that”, but as “I go to the doctor for peace of mind, to confirm that I do not have cancer”. 

Now you may think “But what if I’m in those 20%?”. Well, in that case, it would still be a good thing that you noticed that lump/change and got it checked out - in early stages, breast cancer is often curable with the right treatment! The sooner you get the diagnosis, the quicker you can start lifesaving treatment. If the cancer is caught and treated in an early stage, your survival chance is pretty high. At stage 1 or 2, almost all patients survive (over 90%)! Even at stage 3, more than 70% survive. So even if your lump turns out to be cancerous, it wouldn’t be an automatic death sentence. 

So, to recap: if it ever happens, take it seriously and call your doctor - but stay calm and optimistic while waiting for your appointment. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[sunsetsimon]

hi bit of a personal update

cw : cancer (breast cancer) , alcohol usage

hi if you see this :) bit of an explanation on where i’ve been

honestly been going through it mentally recently. i don’t talk about much of my private life but to put it short i’m current in the process of finding out if these lumps that i have in my breast are cancerous. i went through this process before 2 years ago and luckily they were benign. however this time i’ve started to experience swelling, soreness, armpit pain, and even a slight ripple in my nipple. breast cancer runs in my family so even though im young, i try to stay on top of it best that i can before things get worse. currently i’m waiting to get an ultrasound and mammogram so we can see what’s going on and what my next steps will be.

please be aware that anyone with breast tissue can develop cancer, don’t ignore the signs. when you know something is wrong, advocate for yourself or find someone who can.

i’ve been completely consumed by fear recently and been on a major alcohol bender, drinking nearly everyday until im drunk and then my weed usage. obviously not the best coping mechanisms but holy shit guys - this has been terrifying. i cant sleep and have been having nightmares every time i close my eyes.

please send me your best wishes! and once i find out the results, if good, of course ill let you guys know :)

i have 2 very small drafts im trying to get the energy to post so i won’t be leaving yet!!!! trying to stick it out!!!

im thinking my next posts will probably be more domestic things with the boys <3 send me any things you’d think would fit if you get any ideas and ill try to add it in

anyways thank you for continuously supporting me and checking in here and there! miss you all and can’t wait until i can be posting daily again 🥰🥰

[olderthannetfic]

The nipple talk made me write down my experience where one of my tits exploded in green goo, and when I say 'exploded' I'm only mildly exaggerating.

I'm pregnant for the second time, the birth is two or three months away and I find a lump in my breast. I get an appointment with my gynecologist for the next day and they send me to the hospital saying that the lump is most likely benign but still needs to be checked.

A mammogram is out of the question because I'm pregnant and the breast-expert-doctor says that an MRI wouldn't give any clear results either so we've only done an ultrasound but he is relatively sure that the lump is formed due to some form of mastitis (too much milk, blockage of the milk duct) and there isn't much to be done about it because I also don't have any other symptoms.

Fast forward a few weeks and I go back to the hospital because the lump got bigger and now the doctor (another one) wants to put a needle inside to get the milk out so the breast can have some rest. I don't get any anesthesia for that because what would the point be in getting stuck with a needle only to not feel the next needle getting stuck.

We have a problem though, the needle is too thin and can't suck any milk out of my breast, so while one needle hangs down from my tit she goes to retrieve another one with more width. Now it works somewhat and she gets a discolored version of breastmilk out to be analyzed. The color from that time from what I remember was somewhere between white and yellow (yellow is a normal color for the first breastmilk that flows out after birth) with some blood mixed in and I think some green was there as well.

The lab results showed that the liquid was sterile, meaning there wasn't an infection in the breast. The small wound from the needle also healed up nicely but the milk still formed and the blockage didn't go down. Normally you'd stop breastfeeding at that point but the baby still wasn't born so what was a woman to do? Go back home and come back when it gets even bigger or other problems arise.

Another problem did arise a few weeks later. The skin two to three centimeters to the right of the nipple got redder and harder by the day. That was also the area where the needle had poked me and even though the wound was closed you could see how the skin had thinned out in that entire place.

So one day it happened. I don't quite remember how it happened but suddenly the thin skin around the red and hard area of my breast broke and massive amounts of green liquid flowed out everywhere. I got myself some tissues and went on to squeeze as much of the goo out as possible. If there was already and opening then I could try to remove the blockage by hand

. The viscous green liquid turned more and more yellow and then a liquid white. When some blood started to mix in I stopped, called the hospital, literally said that my breast exploded and they booked me for another appointment the same day.

To make this post shorter: The blockage didn't go away, I got antibiotics that had no discernible effect on me, the exit wound barely closed before it opened again to release more goo, the baby was born.

The hope of the doctors was that normal milk flow would finally open and clean out the milk ducts so this mastitis would finally end. I didn't breastfeed the baby from that breast but I used a milk pump on it until the lab cleared the milk for consumption by infants. And at first it seemed to have worked!

Somewhat. The milk flowed but at the same time the blockage gained in size. Because the wound couldn't close due to the pressure in the breast it started to leak green and yellow everywhere, constantly. I had to put those milk protector things on the wound, not to protect my clothes from leaking milk from my nipples but to protect my clothes from fermented milk out of the side, or as my friend once called it, yoghurt.

It still got everywhere. I had to put towels underneath my breast every time I breastfed from that side. I went back to the hospital and the breast-expert-doctor who mostly specialized in breast cancer told me that at this point I needed to stop breastfeeding completely, from both the sick and the healthy breast, while the gynecologist from the hospital told me that stopping with the sick breast alone was totally doable.

Turns out I didn't need to do anything because the lumps/hardness of the blockage got to so vast that the baby couldn't get the nipple in its mouth anymore. Everything around the nipple got hard and a baby needs to take more than just the tip of a nip to drink from the breast, so that question about stopping from one of both breasts answered itself.

After stopping to feed from that breast, this entire mastitis issue finally resolved itself. The hardness went down, the liquid stopped flowing, the wound closed. It just took months after the birth for it to be over. I still breastfeed from the other breast as well.

And that was the story on how my tit exploded.

- Paper-plate Anon

--

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

[omgkalyppso]

breast lump experience thus far

so when i thought i found something (lump + breast texture change) i was like. should i wait to see if it goes away before i get an appointment? and everyone in my life was like "no?????" so i got that appointment.

my doctor has been my family doctor since before i was born and i fucking knew he was not thorough in checking up on this concern of mine either because 1. my adult nudity seems to still make him uncomfortable but we both don't mention it. 2. my fat seems to make him uncomfortable because it's only been a few years since there's been a mandate on his office to not bring up weight in diagnoses (thank fuck). 3. i have a bruise on the side of my breast from where a pimple failed to heal like a year ago that he asked about and clearly didn't want to touch. and he was like "i can't find anything unusual" (and again, i knew he hadn't really looked) "but just to make sure lets get you a screening at the hospital."

about three days later i got a letter saying my screening would take place in about a month. during that time at one point i stopped being able to find the "lump" and i was like, did i imagine it, has it gone away, the breast texture is still different but is this because i just turned 35.

my mother has had a benign tumour that required surgery and i have extended family who have had breast cancer, so i figured i should keep the appointment.

my appointment was today! i mentioned that i wasn't sure i could find the lump i orginally found, the breast texture change, and that it was most noticeable to me when i pinched the side of my (fat) breast. the nurse / technician? made special note of that and i was worried it was because i was an idiot. but the first imaging machine does compress your breasts in a similar way so maybe it was for some other reason.

then came the ultrasound and when she stopped the thing right over where i found my initial concern for an exceedingly long time i was like "oh fuck it is fucking something."

the doctor came in and wanted to do the ultrasound herself and she suspects it is a small cluster of cysts, but i should expect a letter or phone call in 6-9 months for follow up so they can check it isn't anything else.

so. ultimately. i did recognize a change in my body and i feel stupid af anyway, and like i'm wasting real medical resources in the high likelihood that it is just a small cluster of cysts. but at least that's better news than otherwise.

[anonymous-polling]

do you have or have you had fibroadenoma (benign breast lumps linked to estrogen hormone cycles)?

-yes

-no

-i've never heard of them

[alivingmel]

Apologies, reasons, c-c-cancer?!?, future plans, etc.

HELLO FRIENDS, it's Mel. It's been a very long time since I've posted here, and I feel I owe all you lovely folks who supported me in years past an explanation (whether or not you even remember me because it has been years now) SO, let me tell you what's been going on (under the cut):

Back in 2017, my mental health hit an all-time low that resulted a suicide attempt and subsequent hospitalization. Thankfully, my time in the hospital set me on a path that led me to receiving the care and medication I needed! I started on a mood stabilizer that truly changed my life around. . .

But, because my period of positive self-growth coincided with staying offline and not drawing as frequently as I used to, a misguided part of my brain began associating these things with that awful mental state that almost killed me. I never, ever wanted to feel that awful again, so I started to shy away from sharing and making art until avoiding it completely.

Furthermore, many of my pieces had been fueled by pure mental anguish and, once that pain was alleviated by the proper medication, I found myself struggling to find the motivation to create anything. . . My mind was so much clearer and I could come up with concepts for stories and characters better than ever, but actually getting these ideas down on paper became difficult. For most of my life, I had overrelied on frantic emotions and the idea that my life was not worth anything beyond what I created whenever I made art.

Now that I've realized that yes, my life is valuable and yes, I want to live it, my old approach to art was rendered defunct. I became distracted by new hobbies, since I was able to actually Enjoy Things properly for the first time in my adult life. . . And also because I was avoiding art, which had become a source of frustration and embarrassment for me. I felt like I was a different person than I was before, and the old me was a mess but DAMN they could draw.

I believe it's possible for me to rekindle my passion for creating stuff and discover a reason to draw that isn't unhealthy! But it will require a LOT of focus and energy from me, involving a lot of aggravation and disappointment because FUN FACT when you don't draw for months at a time, you get rusty as hell.

Thus far, I haven't been able to manage the sustained effort required to remember how to draw because, despite being far more mentally stable nowadays, the the last six years have been very. . . Unstable. . . I've lost beloved pets and family members, had to support both parents with major surgeries on several occasions, deal with multiple drawn out court cases (one involving a police officer with a vendetta against my brother trying to get him put in jail, LONG STORY. . .), keep my house from falling apart without having nearly enough money to properly fix the staggering amount of things wrong with it, the persistent cold (and sometimes very hot) war between my immediate family members, and so on. . . My minds been so preoccupied with a constant stream of disasters in my household that it's been VERY EASY to justify a continuing avoidance of art.

I was hoping this year would be the one where I'd get back on track, but instead it turned out to be the year where the old track violently explodes and now I have to build a WHOLE NEW TRACK. So, for now, I have to focus on preventing the derailed train that is my life from jettisoning off a cliff.

Back in December 2022, I discovered a lump in one of my breasts. Considering my age and the fact that it was actually causing me discomfort, I figured it was a benign cyst. Got a mammogram and a biopsy to make sure! IT WAS NOT A CYST. I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer, which tends to be the type of breast cancer that folks under 40 get. It's often connected to genetics, but I tested negative for all relevant gene mutations and no one else in my family has even had breast cancer. IT FELT LIKE A VERY SOAP OPERA-ESQUE TURN OF EVENTS AFTER EVERYTHING ELSE THAT'S HAPPENED, not very realistic plot progression on Life's part, 0/5 stars.

Triple negative is unfortunately one of the most aggressive types of breast cancer and, since the "triple negative" refers to the tumors lack of hormone receptors and the HER2 protein, it does not respond to most targeted breast cancer treatments. But because triple negative tumors are nasty, fast-growing little fuckers, Classic™ chemotherapy works wonders on 'em!

Thankfully, despite all the doctors suspecting otherwise, my nearest lymph node tested negative! Makes a huge difference in treatment, likelihood of recurrence and metastasis, and my chance of surviving this ordeal. The amount of chemo I have had to endure has sucked hardcore and will continue to suck. I finished 12 weekly infusions at the end of May, and I started the last 4 bi-weekly infusions in June. The last four doses include a very friendly, fun-loving drug nicknamed "the red devil". :’)

The silver lining of this whole mess is that I FINALLY GET THESE TITS TAKEN OFF AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO PAY OUT OF POCKET. . . As you may or may not know, I'm nonbinary. I've never had any desire for HRT, but god, GOD, my boobs have given me hardcore dysphoria since puberty willed them into existence. I'm not very comfortable talking about my identity with family and acquaintances irl, so the fact that I don't have to explain myself to nosy relatives now is a relief. WOULD HAVE DEFINITELY PREFERRED HAVING SOME AWKWARD CONVERSATIONS INSTEAD OF FUCKING CANCER, but at least I get some kind of reward at the end of all this.

As someone that's been (physically lol) healthy their whole life, this has been a difficult journey. And, this is wicked cheesy, but the amount of strength I've been able to scrounge up? SHOCKING. I'm proud of how I've managed to grow as a person since 2017. Back then, I could've never pulled this shit off. 2023 MEL IS THE MOST POWERFUL MEL YET, BUT. . . THIS MEL NEEDS TO CHANNEL THEIR NEWFOUND TEMPERANCE INTO THEIR ART AFTER GETTING THROUGH THIS. . .

I actually had this fairytale idea that I'd draw during my chemo sessions and ~rediscover my passion~. . . But I qualified for a cooling cap program (helps with the hair loss, trying to retain as many follicles as I can cuz they play the lead role in my physical presence ok!!!) and the headache you get from encasing your skull with ice is not exactly conducive to productivity.

SO, for now, I need to focus on beating the shit out of cancer and recovering from the treatment beating the shit out of me. But because this experience has made me hyper aware of the fact that we do not get an infinite amount of years to do all the things that we want to do in life, I WILL RETURN. . . Because I have stories to tell! With shitty characters that have shittier lives! I didn't devote 30% of my grey matter to this stuff just to take it with me to the grave, man!!!

ALSO, A REMINDER: if you ever feel like there's something off with yourself, health-wise, do not hesitate to get yourself checked out by a doctor. Whether it's a tiny lump, a persistent dull pain, or anything else. . . Find out what, exactly, it is. I caught this cancer right in time! At this stage, the survival rate for triple negative breast cancer is a little over 90%. Had I waited to get checked out, had I given it enough time to matastize to a distant part of my body. . . My chances of surviving would've dipped to about 12%. That period where I was waiting on tests to confirm whether the cancer had gone anyplace else was absolutely terrifying. SO PLEASE, DON'T FUCK AROUND WITH YOUR HEALTH (OR YOU MIGHT FIND OUT).

[tea-and-secrets]

When I got a lump on my breast I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t be benign so I could have an excuse to chop my tits off. Sadly it was benign tho

.

[maaarine]

The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness and Healing in a Toxic Culture (Gabor Maté, 2022)

“A 1982 German study presented at the fourth international Symposium on the Prevention and Detection of Cancer in London found certain personality traits to have a strong association with breast cancer. 

Fifty-six women admitted to hospital for biopsy were evaluated for characteristics such as emotional suppression, rationalization, altruistic behavior, the avoidance of conflict, and the superautonomous self-sufficiency we saw embodied by Caroline. 

Based on the interview results alone, both the interviewers and “blind” raters who had no direct contact with the women were able to predict the correct diagnosis in up to 94 percent of all cancer patients, and in about 70 percent of the benign cases. 

In a previous British study at King’s College Hospital in London, it had also been shown that women with cancerous breast lumps characteristically exhibited “extreme suppression of anger and of other feelings” in “a significantly higher proportion” than the control group, which was made up of women admitted for biopsy at the same time but found to have benign breast tumors.

In 2000 the publication Cancer Nursing surveyed the relationship of anger repression and cancer, often noted by, among others, the cancer nurses themselves: 

“Somehow, nurses had an intuitive understanding that this ‘niceness’ was deleterious. [This] view now is being supported by research.” 

The nurses’ insight reminded me of a paper on amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) presented by two Cleveland Clinic neurologists at an international congress in Bavaria in the 1990s. 

Their staff, too, found that their ALS patients were extraordinarily nice—so much so, that the staff could in most cases accurately predict who would be diagnosed with the condition and who would not. 

“I’m afraid this person has ALS, she is too nice,” they would jot on the patient’s file. Or, “This person cannot have ALS, he is not nice enough.” 

The neurologists were dumbfounded. “In spite of the briefness of [the staff’s] contact with the patients, and the obvious unscientific method by which they form their opinions, almost invariably they prove to be correct,” they remarked.”

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

I know that my appointment on Wednesday is like 99% likely that there’s nothing to worry about or what is there is benign but I also can’t help but slightly spiral a bit bcuz like. Idk. I think part of me hoped that sometime in the past 2 months that the lump would just go away and it was just some weird temporary swelling or abscess or something but no I still very much have a lump and my breast shape on that side is drastically different and also I noticed a lymph node near my neck on that side has been swollen for these past 2 months at least as well. And like, it’s entirely reasonable for me to be anxious! But I just hate waiting but as much as I hate waiting I also dread that there is a slim slim chance that I get some bad news about whatever the lump is. And if it turns out to be nothing though then I will have spent like 2 months marinating in stress so much that my blood pressure is elevated and I regularly have panic attacks and my work performance is suffering all for something inconsequential.

[sheetsonfire]

I'm With You

Fandom: Chicago PD

Pairing: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Genre: Drama, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: cancer scare, anxiety, illness

Word Count: 2104

Requested By Anon: Hello lovely!! I'm not sure if your requests are open so if they're not i'm so sorry, just ignore this.

I also don't know if you're up to do heavier topics like this but could you maybe write something where reader (female) notice a little lump on the side of her boob and obviously gets scared thinking the worst so she has a break down and Antonio Dawson finds her crying and when she tells him he does gets scare too but tries to be strong for her. They go to the doctor together and it turns out to be nothing. So a fluffy sweet ending

This happened to me not long ago, and everything is fine now but i wish i had someone to tell me everything was going to be okay when it happened so... That's why it's a bit too specific my request😅 thank you ❤️

A/N: Please please be aware that this deals with a very sensitive topic, I did my best to do it justice. Please read with caution.

-

You were supposed to be using your day off to rest and reset your body and mind, yet all it had culminated in was you sitting on the couch staring into space. A thousand thoughts and scenarios flittered in your mind, how would Antonio react? What if you couldn’t afford treatment, what if treatment wasn’t even an option? You didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, and you had so much left you wanted to do, your life with Antonio had only just begun. The anxiety was almost suffocating, constricting in your chest as you thought about ‘it’ sitting inside you, just to the side of your breast, somewhat tender and most definitely a lump.

They always tell you to never self-diagnose, to not use the internet to determine your ailment, to not read the threads upon threads of missed or delayed diagnoses, to not think the worst but to seek medical help immediately. Yet, you still got caught in the trap, you had felt the lump during your shower this morning, and now you can only think of that one word. Cancer. That evil, dreaded, word and all the hurt that it can bring with it. You were terrified to be examined, to see the morose look on the doctor’s face when they have to tell you that is in fact that C-word, that grim reaper that lingers too often and too long in people’s lives.

Somewhere a quiet voice tries to offer the reassurance that the lump can, more often than not, be benign. Yet, the louder gremlin on your shoulder throws out words of sickness and suffering, and you feel the tears hot and heavy as they well up in your eyes. Too present and too much to hide as you hear the key in the front door and Antonio stepping into the apartment.

“Princesa, it’s me,” Antonio calls, not having noticed you curled up on the couch around the corner from the door. You can’t even pretend to be caught up in something as the sobs escape you, instantly alerting Antonio to your very distressed state, he steps faster into the living area, dropping his bag beside the couch as he comes to kneel in front of you. 

His hands are warm and tender on your thighs, resting there as he tries to look at your bowed-down face. “Hey, what’s going on, what’s wrong?”

“I-...I-...” The emotions are too strong, only your staccato’d cry fills the air as you sink into Antonio’s embrace on the floor next to the couch.

“Shh, cariña, it’s alright. Whatever it is, I’m here.” His arms wrap around you, half pulling you into his lap as he holds you, whispering comforting words as he coaxes you to tell him what’s wrong. Soft lips find your damp cheeks as he strokes through your hair, the scent of him is grounding. You feel your breathing slow along with your racing heart, still skittering but not on the verge of imploding as it had felt a moment ago.

As you start to calm down, you pull back to look at Antonio’s worried face, you smile weakly and sniff away the last of your tears. 

“Y/N?” He asks again softly, tilting your chin so you stay looking at him.

You take a deep breath, shuddering as you fight to keep your emotions in check this time.

“Um, I-, I found a lump on the side of my boob this morning.”

Your voice is quiet, not sure what else to say, a slight embarrassment ripples through as though somehow it shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Yet, Antonio’s face of concern oddly reassures you that you hadn’t overreacted.

Your boyfriend swallows, trying to not let his eyes betray the rising tendrils of panic inside him. He knew that it could be something but it could also be nothing, and given your deep concern already he didn’t need to feed into it. Instead, he corralled his mind into an almost professional mindset in order to help you properly.  “Oh, mi amor…” He murmurs, cupping your cheek tenderly, thumb soothing over the damp, heated, skin from your tears. “Hey, it’s scary, I hear that… But if you’re ready, we can make an appointment and get it checked out, then we know one way or the other what we’re looking at.”

You feel yourself tremble, lip wobbling again. You could see just how ready Antonio was to take care of this, yet it was just so terrifying now that you had psyched yourself out. 

“I’m not gonna leave your side, mi vida. You gotta know that whether good or bad, we go into this together and we come out the other side, alright?”

You search for composure, taking another deep breath as Antonio rubs your back. 

“Okay, yeah, okay… Thank you, Toni, seriously.” 

“It’s nothing to thank me for, you’re my girl,” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you close your eyes and focus on his touch, wrapping your arms around him as you rest your head on his shoulder. He lets you take the time you need.

You don’t know how long you sit like that, drifting in a haze of surreal anticipation, you relish the presence of the man you adore, knowing that if nothing else he’s here with you. 

“I love you.” You mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him a little. 

He laughs softly, humming, “I love you too.” 

You sigh, slowly extricating yourself from Antonio’s embrace as you shimmy off his lap, ready to stand up and stretch out the tension. “Okay, let’s rip this bandaid off. Time to call my doctor’s office…” 

He nods, taking your hand as you help him up off the floor. You sink down into the couch, reaching for your cellphone as you search the contacts, feeling Antonio sit beside you and wrap an arm around your shoulder, fingers lightly stroking over your arm.

-

The call to the doctor’s office was both productive and an anticipatory nightmare, the receptionist was kind and reassuring as they booked your appointment into the system. Yet, the problem was it wasn’t until the morning, and you weren’t sure how you would handle the long night’s wait.

Toni tried to keep things relaxed for you, finding one of your favourite movies and getting you takeout from the Greek place you loved, yet he could feel your perfectly valid distracted posture. You just couldn’t keep still and you kept disappearing to the bathroom, after the third visit Antonio realised you were repeatedly checking the lump to examine it, prod it and look for any rapid change. To which there was none, only the slight tenderness remained. 

In bed, you pillowed yourself on Toni’s chest, an arm slung over him as you tried to focus on the thuds of his heartbeat, his fingers danced up and down your back in soothing tracks, occasionally you would feel lips press against the top of your head with reassuring kisses until eventually, Toni heard your breaths get deeper and slower, you had managed to find sleep. 

Now, he lay there himself, holding you close as he thought about the appointment that came ever closer. He felt his own adrenaline simmer in his stomach, he very well knew that it could be nothing at all except a harmless spot of fatty tissue, and yet… He couldn’t keep the dread from rearing its ugly head from time to time.

He didn’t want to feed into your worry, but he found himself saying a few prayers as he chased his own sleep, wanting desperately for you to be okay and for the news tomorrow to be the most positive it could be.

-

The next morning had nervous energy surrounding you like thick smog, and as much as Antonio tried to put forward a confident and reassuring air, you could tell he was worried too. The way he would keep in gentle contact with you, the reassuring glances and checking to see how you were doing - it all felt too real suddenly, the chance that your life could change by the morning was over was surreal. Yet, you were still so very grateful for him by your side, you didn’t want anybody else. 

Waiting in the doctor’s office was the worst part, surrounded by sick and worried faces, the drab colours only compounding the sense of a dreary, bleak, outlook for your future. It was hard to shake the negativity once you were in the purgatory of wait.

A call of your name snaps you out of your reverie, springing to your feet as Antonio follows, a reassuring palm on your lower back as you usher into the office, following your doctor’s footsteps. 

“So, Miss Y/L/N… I understand you’ve got some concerns about a lump on your breast, is that correct?” 

You freeze for a moment, the words stuck in your throat as you are all too aware that once you go looking for the answer, there’s no return. 

“Uh, yes. I found it yesterday morning in the shower. It doesn’t hurt really, just tender.”

The doctor nods, smiling reassuringly as you appear to look a little queasy. 

“Okay, so what we’re going to do is, if you’re comfortable and ready, I am going to give you some privacy behind that curtain over there, you’re going to take your shirt and bra off for me, and I will examine your breasts for any other abnormalities, causes for concern, anything that’s amiss… and then we’ll go from there, is that okay? Would you like a chaperone for the procedure?” 

Antonio stays quiet beside you, but you feel his hand on your knee, squeezing reassuringly. You turn to him, silently asking the question. He nods, thumb rubbing over your leg. 

“Is it alright if my partner comes with me?” You ask, voice quiet, feeling a little self-conscious. 

The doctor’s face is kind, nodding in affirmative, she stands to gesture both you and Antonio towards the curtain. “Of course, not a problem. I’ll give you a few minutes to get comfortable, and then I’ll be over to begin.” 

“Okay”, you reply softly, eventually finding it within you to approach the examination area. Antonio pulls the curtain round for you as you hand him your clothing to hold, your heart hammering in your chest.

“It’s gonna be alright, mi amor. I’m right here.” Antonio is tender, giving you a quick kiss as you call out to the doctor that you’re ready.

-

And it was alright, a few days after the physical exam, the scans, the blood tests… the results given to you over the phone from your doctor were overwhelmingly reassuring. There was nothing to be found that was cause for concern or immediate action. The lump on your breast was considered a fibroadenoma, a benign cyst that should clear up over time. If it didn’t reduce in size or got bigger, they could simply remove it. It posed no considerable threat to your life or wellbeing, the most welcome and surreal words you could have ever heard.

Antonio had been sitting next to you at the time, having been given a few days furlough to make sure everything was in order before you went back to work too. As your face lit up in relief, so did his, squeezing you tight and smothering you in kisses as you tried not to giggle too much whilst on the phone, his fingers tickling your sides.

You thanked your doctor and disconnected the call, letting out an enthusiastic whoop of relief as you melted into Toni’s loving embrace, sharing long teasing kisses with him as he pulled you on top of his lap. 

“Better?” He asks, eyes bright with his own relief, feeling how precious you were more than ever.

You hum happily, giggling again, “Much better.” You press kisses to Toni’s face, his jaw, massaging your fingers at the nape of his neck, fingers combing through his thick head of hair, inhaling his aftershave.

The anxious smog had lifted, and you could breathe easier again. It’s always so hard when one small thing can put your whole worldview into flux, it felt like being back on solid ground now that you knew there was nothing festering within.

For hours after, as you lay content with your head in Toni’s lap, you listened to the movie playing in the background, your boyfriend smiling at your cat-like behaviour, relishing the way you relaxed into him. You feel yourself letting your eyes close, sinking into a light slumber on the couch, with not a trace of worry to follow. 

-

Fin.