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Not so bad?

Back at the dawn of time, or a couple months ago, the thing that prompted the flurry of medical tests resulting in my cancer diagnosis was that I could feel something odd internally while doing yoga, specifically when lying face-down on the floor. That something turned out to be a tumor on my liver, the Wurst. Ew. Ick. Ugh.

I modified my yoga routine to avoid that position.

This morning I added it back in, largely to encourage the cat standing on my back to disembark before I did something that might encourage inserting claws to maintain stability.

I couldn’t feel the Wurst.

This is purely subjective, and could mean absolutely nothing. I have a bit of medically-induced PTSD already, after several rounds of “that’s nothing,” followed by, “oh wait, that’s really horrible.” It makes me terribly reluctant to accept anything potentially good as potentially good. And I can tell you my next CT scan is going to be utterly terrifying.

But still… yay?