They tell you not to worry.

The doctor called a couple of weeks ago.
You need more tests , we don't like the way this looks.
(But don't worry.)
An ultrasound. Then a biopsy.
I lost lots of sleep.
(Worried.)
Finally my tests came back : Negative. Whew.
And life got back to normal.

Not so much for my buddy Bucky.
Why haven't we talked in months?
I've been thinking about all the emails we could have written, phone calls we could have made, laughs we could have had over an occasional cup of coffee.
Why do friends lose touch.
Hmm. I wonder.

These are called hairy cells.
Bucky has them, I guess.

Leave it to him to choose such a testosteronishly masculine-sounding cancer.
He's going through chemo.
Damn.