It will never happen to me. It will go away.
As I waked into the office, with the small ultrasound machine beeping alongside the long drs table, the undeniable fear of the worst was able to slightly bear its head from the blanket of the invincibility of youth. Vulnerability peeking its head from the protection of immortality.
A small insignificant thing, a tiny lump, in this large, well nourished human body could surely bear no significance. Surely it is nothing. But yet the beeping of the ultrasound machine in the corner continued and with its unsettling nature it allowed the blanket to be slowly but surely further removed.
A few moments later this inconceivable truth was right before me. Not in words but In the expression on the face of someone who knew better, who understood what the undefined strange grey and black images on the ultrasound machine meant.
The following day it all becomes a reality and I find myself in a fancy disposable pair of jocks, some badass white linen and surrounded by absolute love and affection.
With some more time passing things progress and the moment of truth arrives. I wake from the deepest sleep of my life and there she is, soft and realistic. Parallel but reassuring. Slightly tender but powerful. Susan sally. In all her glory. A new prosthetic testicle. The absence of any lumps.
This is my story of vulnerability, my inviolable nature that was disproven. My story of Susan sally.