The doctor rolls his stool back and I am told I can sit up. I remind myself that I have a backbone, not a wishbone like the ones I used to snap on Thanksgiving, and it helps me sit up straight. I ask to see the part that they took. The nurse holds up a clear container with liquid and a blob of red floating in the middle. It’s so small. It felt like so much, like so much had been taken, but I see that it is only a tiny piece.