I don't really want to do this, but I feel I should, not sure why, just a feeling. I have to type, to get the thoughts out of my head. They are going through my head so quickly it hurts, I am getting a headache. I am crying as I type, my face is completely wet. I feel strange, cold but slightly sweaty. I feel weak, low in my strength. My face is hot. My hands are shaking, I can't control them, they seem not to be mine. My head is bursting, with tears, with shouts. Two hours ago; "Any chance that you might take out the stitches today?" I asked. "No, not today, you see, the results of the biopsy from the tumour are back." The surgeon had never called it a tumour before, it had always been called a lump. I did not say anything, I just looked at his face and waited for him to speak again. "It is called a sarcoma, it was 7.5cm in diameter, that is very big for a sarcoma. It was poorly differentiated, which means it had begun to split. It is a particularly angry type of sarcoma." Still, I sa