There once was a rather large cyst
Growing above my right fist
It first went away
But then it did stay
For three more long years on my wrist
So this cyst. When it first appeared 3 years ago, I hated it because it might be fatal. After I figured out it wasn’t life-threatening, I hated it because it was annoying. It didn’t do anything, but that was just the problem. It sat there on my wrist, being all squishy and harmless, driving me absolutely crazy because there was nothing I could do about it. (I could get it drained or taken out by surgery, but both methods came with a ridiculously high chance that the cyst would come back at some point, so neither was worth it.)
At first, I tried to get rid of it by banging hard books against it. That hurt. Then I tried ignoring it. That was impossible. Eventually, I had to accept the fact that it was there, showing up in pictures, and it wasn’t going to leave. I was a person with a large cyst on my wrist. It became part of my identity (no, I am not making a bigger deal out of this than it is; I can’t believe you’re even suggesting that).
But then, suddenly, the other day, it got smaller. I’m not talking completely gone, but so much considerably smaller that I had to check if it was still there. Great, right? Wrong.
Now I have no idea whether it’s going to one day disappear entirely, or suddenly grow huge again. And it’s driving me nuts. At least when it was big and unchanging, I knew what I was dealing with. I’d play with it all the time and sometimes still bang heavy objects against it with the hope of smashing it to oblivion. But it was a comfortable annoyance. Now, it’s all up in the air, what this new unpredictable cyst will do tomorrow or next week, and that terrifies me.
So I guess what I’m saying is I miss the old, inconvenient, way too big and purposeless bump on my wrist. I hated it, and I may not have understood it, but it was familiar, and it was undeniably mine.