Then, my right breast began to ache. It hurt inside, hurt to press my arm against it, not terribly painful but disturbing. I began painting, a distraction. I’ve decided to paint fish portraits because it’s kind of mindless and absorbing at the same time. There are so many fabulous fish that I will never run out of them, never have to think up a new idea for the day, and I’m at least doing something.

I ate a good breakfast, painted for awhile, and then I began to feel, not tired, but weepy. I couldn’t stop crying for several hours. My breast hurt and everyone said it wouldn’t so what’s wrong with me? Am I making this up? Is it psychosomatic? Am I just creeping out?

I just kept painting my fish. Now, about eight hours after my treatments, I am feeling better, not hurting as much, calming down. At least I finished this Queen Parrotfish. I saw several of these, each about as large as my shoe, two weeks ago with my friend Rowland from a glass-bottomed boat off Key West.