>Growth

>As I washed my hands, I looked up at the bathroom mirror and noticed something disturbing.

It was a growth, small and ragged and oddly colored, protruding from my forehead.

I knew immediately that it was probably cancerous. I mean, it had all the characteristics.

My eyes growing misty, I stared at myself in the mirror and thought about my life. What would become of me? Would they have to operate on my forehead, leaving me with a nasty scar? What if the cancer came back? What if it spread?

A tear rolled down my face. My poor children. What would happen to them? Bruiser wouldn’t even remember me. And Hubs? Hubs would probably remarry some bimbo who hated the kids and was only interested in my CD collection.

And what about that book I was supposed to write? And that scrapbook I kept meaning to do for Bruiser? And all the overdue thank you notes for Punky’s birthday party presents? And the visit I kept meaning to pay my father and stepmother?

What about my Bucket List? The hot air balloon ride? The trip to Antarctica? The Disney cruise?

I took a deep, ragged breath and lifted my fingers up to feel the life-altering growth on my forehead. I touched it, ever so lightly….

…and it fell off.

It was a bread crumb, from dinner. We’d had croissants.

My bad.

Quickly, I dried my hands and returned to the dinner table.

Just another day in the life of a closet hypochondriac.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.