Off-Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with HumorArthur, T. S. (Timothy Shay)
General
Off-Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humor
Arthur, T. S. (Timothy Shay)
Fiction; Short stories
It would not be so bad with me, if I did not find so many good souls
ready to add fuel to the flames of my fears. One of my most horrible
apprehensions, since I have been old enough to think about it, has
been of that dreadful disease, cancer. I am sure I shall die of
it,--or, if not, some time in life have to endure a frightful
operation for its removal.
I have had a dull, and sometimes an acute pain in one of my breasts,
for some years. I am sure it is a cancer forming, though my husband
always ridicules my fears. A few days ago a lady called in to see
me. The pain had been troubling me, and I felt nervous and
depressed.
"You don't look well," said my visitor.
"I am not very well," I replied.
"Nothing serious, I hope?"
"I am afraid there is, Mrs. A--" I looked gloomy, I suppose, for I
felt so.
"You really alarm me. What can be the matter?"
"I don't know that I have ever mentioned it to you, but I have, for
a long time, had a pain in my left breast, where I once had a
gathering, and in which hard lumps have ever since remained. These
have increased in size, of late, and I am now confirmed in my fears
that a cancer is forming."
"Bless me!" And my visitor lifted both hands and eyes. "What kind of
a pain is it?"
"A dull, aching pain, with occasional stitches running out from one
spot, as if roots were forming."
"Just the very kind of pain that Mrs. N--had for some months
before the doctors pronounced her affection cancer. You know Mrs.
N--?"
"Not personally. I have heard of her."
"You know she had one of her breasts taken off?"
"Had she?" I asked, in a husky voice. I had horrible feelings.
"Oh, yes!" My visitor spoke with animation.
"She had an operation performed about six months ago. It was
dreadful! Poor soul!"
My blood fairly curdled; but my visitor did not notice the effect of
her words.
"How long did the operation last?" I ventured to inquire.
"Half an hour."
"Half an hour! So long?"
"Yes; it was a full half hour from the time the first incision was
made until the last little artery was taken up."
"Horrible! horrible!" I ejaculated, closing my eyes, and shuddering.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account