Tuesday, May 4, 2010

So Long, Lucille

Lucille. Lucille. Lucille.

Yesterday, we said a painful goodbye.

I heard disgusting squishing sounds as you made your exit and I felt the pressure of the doctor battling you as if he were an exorcist. You were a formidable enemy, Lucy. But, bitch, you're long gone now.

"Do you want to see Lucille?" the doc asked.


No chance was I going to peak through my sealed tight eyelids to check you out, lady. Why would I want to see you, sitting there solemnly in a vial, awaiting your journey to the lab? It was enough that I had to live with you these past couple of months, you little parasite.

Of course, we had our moments. You were the Thelma to my Louise, the Laverne to my Shirley, the Ashford to my Simpson. We had a few nice walks in the park, excursions to the playground. But, still, you were an unwelcome guest.

"I don't want to see her, but what does she look like?" I asked the doc, face-down on the examination table.

"Like the blob!" the doc replied, with enthusiasm.

" . . . with chicken fat," his assistant felt the need to add.


Well, now that I've set you loose, Lucille, I have to admit today has been a bit difficult. No, I don't miss your bulging presence in my back. But I do have phantom pains that have your name written all over them. My exit wound aches, burns, and constantly reminds me of you.

But, I have to say, I feel lucky to have known you, Lucy. Because as big and bulgy and important as you thought you were, busting your way into my back, disrupting my life for a short time, the truth is, you were a big nothing. And, maybe, just maybe, Lucy, in addition to playing cupid for would-be lovers visiting the Mutter Museum, maybe you'll be a lucky little reminder to others to get their weird lumps checked out, cut out, exorcised, what have you.

You're an inspiration.

There, I said it. You happy now?

Still, I am quite content to say, "So long, Lucille!"

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