I might add that before I grew my first tumor I had been consuming large amounts of red meat in a mistaken understanding gained in nursing school that a good diet contained large amounts of animal protein. In addition to the stress of being a full time psychology graduate student existing on a very low budget, I was experiencing I very frustrating relationship with a young man that left me constantly off center and confused. A biopsy was promptly performed. The university hospital's SOP required that three pathologists make an independent decision about the nature of a tumor before proceeding with radical surgery. Two of the pathologist agreed that my tumor was malignant, which represented the required majority vote. But the surgeon removed only the lump, which he said was well encapsulated and for some reason did not proceed with a radical mastectomy. These days many surgeons routinely limit themselves to lumpectomies. I never did find out why I awakened from general anesthetic with two breasts, but I have since supposed that due to my tender age the surgeon was reluctant to disfigure me without at least asking me for permission, or giving me some time to prepare psychologically. When I came out of anesthesia he told me that the lump was malignant, and that he had removed it, and that he needed to do a radical mastectomy to improve my prognosis over the next few years. He asked me to think it over, but he signed me up on his surgery list for the following Monday. I did think it over and found I was profoundly annoyed at the idea of being treated like I was just a statistic, so I decided that I would be unique. I made a firm decision that I would be well and stay well--and I was for the next fifteen years. The decision healed me. When I was 37 I had a recurrence. At the time I had in residence Ethyl and Marge, the two far-gone breast cancer cases I already told you about. I also had in residence a young woman with a breast tumor who had not undergone any medical treatment, not even a lumpectomy. (I will relate her case in detail shortly.) I was too identified emotionally with helping these three, overly-empathetic due to my own history. I found myself taking on their symptoms and their pain. I went so far into sympathy as to grow back my tumor--just as it had the first time--a lump mushroomed from nothing to the size of a goose egg in only three weeks in exactly the same place as the first one. Just out of curiosity I went in for a needle biopsy. Once again it was judged to be malignant, and I got the same pressure from the surgeon for immediate surgery. This time, however, I had an alternative system of healing that I believed in. So I went home, continued to care for my very sick residents, and began to work on myself.